Homestuck Pages 309-369

> What??

There's this really cool dude, ok? He's standing around being all chill, like cool dudes are known to do sometimes. A cool dude like this probably has a real cool name. But he probably wouldn't just tell you what it was if you asked. He'd be way too busy for that. Busy being totally sweet.

But you could always try to guess his name. And if you were right, he might nod ever so slightly. That's a cool dude's way of letting you know there might just be hope for you yet.

> Enter name.

This guy doesn't have time for this sort of bullshit.

> Try again.

> Examine room.

Your name is DAVE. It is an UNSEASONABLY WARM April day. Your BEDROOM WINDOW is open to let some air in, and your FAN is cranked. Arguably even more cranked would be your FLY BEATS, which brings us to your variety of INTERESTS. A cool dude like you is sure to have plenty. You have a penchant for spinning out UNBELIEVABLY ILL JAMS with your TURNTABLES AND MIXING GEAR. You like to rave about BANDS NO ONE'S EVER HEARD OF BUT YOU. You collect WEIRD DEAD THINGS PRESERVED IN VARIOUS WAYS. You are an AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER and operate your own MAKESHIFT DARKROOM. You maintain a number of IRONICALLY HUMOROUS BLOGS, WEBSITES, AND SOCIAL NETWORKING PROFILES. And if the inspiration strikes, you won't hesitate to drop some PHAT RHYMES on a mofo and REPRESENT.

What will you do?

> Dave: Quickly retrieve arms from cinderblocks.

Nah.

> Dave: Get the damn beta and save your friend's life!

This notion strikes you as nonsensical. You can't imagine how a video game could save someone's life, and in any case, you're quite sure no one you know is in any danger.

Anyway, these are your copies of the beta you received in the mail recently. You've labeled them with your name in BOLD RED PRINT to distinguish them from your BRO's copies, who labeled his in kind. Neither of you really gives a shit about this game or has any intention of playing it, but you'll be damned if you'll let that get in the way of your campaign of one-upmanship.

> Dave: Bleat like a goat and piss on your turntable.

You would never consider allowing any fluid even remotely resembling urine to touch your beloved TURNTABLES. That would risk breaking them, and a world without the gift of your godly science just doesn't sound like a place you want any part of. While you're at it, you might as well wipe out human civilization with a meteor or something ridiculous like that which will probably never happen.

That sort of thing only happens in stupid idiot movies for stupid idiots.

> ==>

You will however contemplate bleating like a goat for IRONICALLY HUMOROUS purposes at a later date.

> Dave: Examine closet.

This is your closet. This is where you keep a lot of your crap.

Like that BOX. And that bottle of... what is that?

Is that...?

> Dave: Check the blue box.

This is the package that your friend John Egbert sent you for your 13th birthday a little while ago. It now contains nothing except a NOTE and a CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICITY vouching for the genuine Hollywood memorabilia which the box originally contained, and which you are now wearing to be IRONIC but also to be INCREDIBLY COOL IN A WAY SOMEHOW INTANGIBLY RELATED TO THE IRONIC NATURE OF THE ACCESSORY. You find it sort of exasperating to explain these subtleties to people.

The BOX also included a signed photo of BEN STILLER which now proudly hangs above your closet. Proudly and IRONICALLY.

> Dave: Take box.

You captchalogue the BOX through your HASH MAP FETCH MODUS.

Your modus's current HASH FUNCTION resolves the index by valuing each consonant at 2, and each vowel at 1. The total is divided by your number of cards, and the remainder is the index.

BOX = 2 + 1 + 2 = 5

5 % 10 = 5

The BOX is captchalogued in card 5.

> Dave: Examine jar of unknown yellow substance in the closet.

Oh hell yes. It is an unopened container of APPLE JUICE. You thought you were all out. It is like fucking christmas up in here.

This is so great. You've got to tell John about this immediately. He'll be so excited.

> Dave: Take juice.

You captchalogue the JUICE into card 7.

2+1+1+2+1 %10 = 7.

> Dave: Access Pesterchum and pester John.

In addition to letting your buddy know about this outstanding juice windfall, you figure you'll wish him a happy birthday while you're at it. In your own cool, sort of roundabout way of course. Good thing you looked at that box he sent you, or you might have forgotten.

You also might as well ask him about that beta. The kid's been harping about it for weeks. It would be cool if it came on his birthday. He'd be one happy camper.

> ==>

> ==>

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:13 --

TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today
EB: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, the applejuice scene was so funny.
TG: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here
EB: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage?
TG: but
TG: the seal on the bottle is unbroken
TG: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory
EB: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle?
EB: try using your brain numbnuts.
TG: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like
TG: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous
EB: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice.
TG: ok i can accept that
TG: monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters
TG: also fred savage has a really punchable face
TG: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it
TG: did you get the beta yet
EB: no.
EB: did you?
TG: man i got two copies already
TG: but i dont care im not going to play it or anything the game sounds boring
TG: did you see how it got slammed in game bro????
EB: game bro is a joke and we both know it.
TG: yeah
TG: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now
EB: alright.

> Dave: Go online and view sites indicative of your interests.

You open the HEPHAESTUS web browser and direct it to your ironically maintained blog where you post monthly satirical reviews of GAMEBRO MAGAZINE. Your latest post is a review of the MARCH ISSUE.

You've been meaning to write a review for the latest issue too, but you've been sort of dogging it. Something about the game they're reviewing just doesn't strike you as ripe for satirical purposes.

> ==>

In a new tab you open another one of your sites, a webcomic ironically maintained through a satirical cipher vaguely similar to that of your blog. It's called SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF.

You have legions of devoted fans, most of whom are totally convinced of your creative persona's sincerity. Which is just how you like it.

> Dave: Check the latest page of the Midnight Crew.

You figure as long as you're chilling at your computer you might as well see how that new MSPA story is going. You haven't looked at it in a while.

> Midnight Crew.

"You are members of a sinister gang called the Midnight Crew. Your nefarious plots are serpentine in complexity. Your schemes, convoluted. You are planning a heist in your underground hideout.

What will you do?"

> Use Occam's Razor on plans and schemes.

"Spades Slick uses OCCAM'S RAZOR to carve a circular hole into the HEIST PLANS, freeing it from the knife.

You wonder what moron would jam the knife so hard into the table in the first place."

> SS: Climb ladder and exit hideout. Implement nefarious plots

"You push against the MANHOLE COVER, but it seems some unbelievable jackass has parked your GETAWAY VAN on top of it.

A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage.

It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades."

> Dave: Skip ahead a hundred pages or so.

You don't remember where you last left off, so you jump way ahead. You always forget to save your place in the story.

It looks like tempers have become short in this pressure cooker already. You speculate that the tipping point may have been an ill-advised motion for a game of 52 PICKUP.

> Dave: Save your place, read it later.

Even though the adventure began recently, it's already over 3000 pages long. You just don't have time for this bullshit. You'll catch up later.

Besides, it looks like someone's pestering you. You're pretty sure you know who it is.

> Dave: Answer chum.

TT: In some cultures the persistent refusal of a lady's invitation to play a game with her would be a sign wanton disrespect.
TT: Either that, or flagrant homosexuality.
TG: what oh no
TG: no look
TG: im busy ok
TG: ive got a lot of shit on my plate
TG: i am sort of a big deal ok?
TT: I know.
TT: Sometimes I wonder how you are ever allowed to pay for meals in restaurants.
TT: It must be hard to keep a low profile when you're always overhearing awed voices whisper, "It's that guy who has a blog."
TG: seriously
TG: dudes be worshipping me left and right
TG: i cant hardly walk down the street without stepping over torsos of the prostrate
TT: Navigating the urban landscape I'm sure is difficult enough without an obstacle course of deferential flesh and skyward asses.
TT: Perhaps adapting the art of parkour to your unique environment would help?
TG: yeah!
TG: i mean damn
TG: like theres this scruffy little shit at my feet
TG: an orphan or something i dont know
TG: face flush on the pavement
TG: im like dude you listening for a stampede of buffalo or something?
TG: he braves a look at me then gives my shoe a little kiss and scurries the fuck off
TT: Heavy is the crown.
TG: yeah
TG: not kicking oliver twist in the fucking face every day is my gift to the world i guess
TT: Breathtaking magnanimity!
TG: among other things
TG: i just give and fucking give
TT: Indeed, nary a jewel tumbles from your wishbox of daily exploits which I imagine does not sparkle.
TG: oh for fucks sake
TG: youre just lobbying for me to play that dumb game
TT: Baseless accusation!
TG: look i am telling you
TG: egbert is ALL ABOUT that game
TG: he will play it with you and probably be tickled retarded about it
TT: I know this very well.
TT: I cannot hasten his mail's delivery, however.
TG: yeah yeah
TG: ill hassle him some more about it
TG: and look how about this
TG: if you ever find yourself in the position where your life depends on me playing that piece of shit game, then ill play
TG: will that make you happy
TT: More than you know.
TT: It perfectly mollifies my grief over the demise of chivalry.

> JOHN WHAT ARE YOU DOING. STOP DOING NOTHING.

Meanwhile in the present, in a place where the present may be a concept of dubious merit, John is spacing out.

But a vague and forceful thought jolts him to attention.

Or maybe it is that bumping sound coming from the other side of the door. What is that?

> ==> ??

A thick, unpleasant fluid pools from beneath the door.

> TROUBLING. INVESTIGATE THIS.

There is a trail of this fluid in the hall leading to your room.

> Dave: Play some hauntingly sick beats.

You've had enough of the computer for a while. You feel like you've been messing around on it all week. It's time to get your jam on.

You pull up to your trusty AKAI MPC-1000 SAMPLER and prepare to get sicknasty.

> [S] ==>

> Dave: Take sip of the apple juice, despite what John said.

Those beats were so fresh they belong in the produce aisle, is what you're talkin' about. Soccer moms be thumpin' that shit for ripeness like melons. Know what I'm sayin'?

After beats that fresh, it would be a crime not to reward yourself with a celebratory SWIG.

2+2+1+2 %10 = 7.

> ==>

You can't do it!

John's got you all twisted up inside now. All you can think about is Mandel's gross monster piss.

Damn you, Egbert!

> ==>

You re-captchalogue the JUICE.

> Dave: Allocate sword to strife specibus.

Your STRIFE SPECIBUS is already allocated with the BLADEKIND ABSTRATUS! There is no need to allocate it.

You can wield your sweet NINJA SWORD as a weapon once it is in your STRIFE DECK. But you will have to captchalogue it first before moving it there.

> Dave: Captchalogue sword.

The NINJA SWORD (2+1+2+2+1 + 2+2+1+2+2 = 17 % 10 = 7) occupies the same card as the JUICE (2+1+1+2+1 = 7 % 10 = 7), expelling the JUICE from your SYLLADEX.

It splashes all over your TURNTABLES and your copies of the BETA.

Argh!

> Dave: Get a towel or something!

You head out to get a TOWEL from the bathroom across the hall.

You glance at one of the many RADICAL PUPPETS in your BRO'S collection and nod in approval.

Is there anything not awesome about your BRO? No, you think not.

> ==>

You enter the bathroom. There's a damp towel on the floor you can probably use for this crisis.

You stop to pay a little respect to one of your BRO'S boys up there. Hey lil' man. How's it hangin'?

> Dave: Captchalogue damp towel.

You take the DAMP TOWEL (2+1+2+2 + 2+1+2+1+2 = 15 % 10 = 5), expelling the BOX (2+1+2 = 5 % 10 = 5).

> Dave: Search the bathroom for something slightly less damp.

Nah, you just decide to wring this towel out into the toilet to make it less damp.

It is now just a TOWEL (2+1+2+1+2 = 8 % 10 = 8).

> Dave: Take towel.

You take the TOWEL, and grab the BOX again while you're at it.

> Dave: Clean up the juice.

You CLEAN (2+2+1+1+2 = 8) up the juice with the TOWEL and hang the damp BETA ENVELOPES on your line to dry off.

> ==>

In the breeze of the FAN, the betas jostle near the OPEN WINDOW.

This arrangement is a little disconcerting. If they fell out, it sure would be a stupid way to lose them.

> Dave: Turn off the fan.

The crisis is easily averted. You can't imagine it will ever resurface later in any way, shape, or form. That beta is as good as yours, forever.

> ==>

You should probably go pester Egbert again. You wonder if he found the beta yet. You also might chat about your respective SYLLADICES and FETCH MODI, if the topic happens to come up. You wonder if he is anywhere near as smooth with his sylladex as you are. Probably not. It's probably not even humanly possi...

> ==>

Suddenly a RAMBUNCTIOUS CROW flies in the open window and snatches the beta, possibly to make a nest with, or maybe just for the sake of being a brainless feathery asshole.

You yell at the bird.

> ==>

> ==>

You accidentally launch your NINJA SWORD. Everything goes flying out the window, dead bird and all.

> ==>

No one can ever know about this.

> Dave: Look out window.

Yeah, you can kiss all that stuff goodbye. You feel sorry for the bird, but at least you never planned on ever using that beta, ever.

Anyway, now that that bit of ugliness is behind you, you guess you can look forward to several more hours of messing around in your room WHOA WAIT WHAT???

> ==>

You prepare to descend the stairs to your living room. You are standing eye-to-eye with a familiar foe, a 20-foot tall granite statue of the mighty wizard, ZAZZERPAN THE LEARNED. Your mother had him installed through a hole in the roof with a heavy-duty crane.

Just look at that mystical gaze. To peer into those aloof, glassen eyes is to arrest the curiosity of any mortal. To behold the wisdom concealed in the furrows of that venerable face is to know the ceaseless joys of bewonderment itself. Any man so fortunate as to catch askance his merry twinkle or twitch of whisker shall surely have all his dreams fulfilled.

> ==>

You find this grisly abomination utterly detestable.

> Rose: Psychoanalyze mother's love of wizards.

There is nothing to psychoanalyze. Your mother clearly has no real affinity for these damnable things. She only collects them to spite you.

If anything, she finds them even more repellent than you do. She's just a committed woman.

> Rose: Go downstairs to the kitchen back door.

You descend to the living room area of your home's expansive open layout. There is the sound of rushing water beneath the floor. It tends to strike guests as a strange presence in a living space, but it's become hardly audible to you through familiarity.

There's the front door. But hopefully there's no need to make the long trek around the house in the rain. You might as well see if you can slip through the kitchen and out the back unnoticed.

> Rose: View Mother's solid copper vacuum statue.

Ok, but it's bronze, not copper!

But it wasn't always. A while ago you gave this as an ironic gift to your MOM for mother's day. You even customized it with a drink holder to support one of her ubiquitous ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES.

She "liked" the gift so much, she had it bronzed and put on this pedestal. She even left it plugged in so it can still be turned on now and then. But never to do any cleaning. It never leaves this display.

Sometimes at night when you are in your room, you can hear it wailing from downstairs. She MUST know you can hear it. She's completely deranged.

> Rose: Grab the Eldritch Princess.

It's too big to captchalogue!

Not that you would want to move it anyway. The PRETTY PRINCESS DOLL has been sitting there for months, ever since your mother got this abomination for your birthday as a totally PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE gesture.

You decided to make it much less abominable by knitting Her Majesty a new head and new arms. Now it brings a mischievous smile to your face whenever you walk by. Your mother hasn't removed the doll yet, and probably never will. She would never be the one to blink first.

> Rose: Acquire umbrella for protection from elements.

U > L. U < V.

You're going to have a hell of a time accessing that card when you need it. You guess you'll just cross that bridge later.

> Rose: Peek inside kitchen.

The LIQUOR BOTTLES are out in full force. MOM is surely nearby.

> Rose: Investigate richly colored object in middle of screen.

That would be your REFRIGERATOR, whose surfaces have customarily served as the battlefield for a chilly siege of PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE one-upmanship.

This was a drawing you did of your cat JASPERS when you were younger, along with a poem about him. Your mother bought this ostentatious $15,000 frame for it, and had it welded to the door.

> ==>

Using the colorful MAGNET LETTERS, you recently left a succinct message, which may or may not have been directed toward anyone in particular. But you couldn't find the letter W, so you just stuck two V's together.

> ==>

Your mother then purchased a fresh pack of W's and left them there for your convenience.

Appreciative of the thoughtful gesture, you left her a sincere THANK YOU NOTE, which you had legally notarized, and then marked with a drop of blood.

> ==>

But part of it was touching the floor, so your mother was kind enough to lift the lower portion of the document with a VELVET PILLOW.