Kafka's Dream
We cut to an abstract, colourful landscape. Clashing objects rendered in a wide variety of art styles, all piled up against each other in an ever-shifting mass. Greyscale highways and "LOST CHILD" signs,
◊ burning men standing in bunker-lined streets
◊, crackling white lines in a black void
- all are present, and gone as quickly as they appeared.
The eye of the storm is a certain fox-man the Tropers haven't seen in person for quite a while. He's seated in a golden throne with some very elaborate decals
◊, head tilted back, eyes closed, relaxed and at peace. Hopefully no annoying figures from his past will show up to ruin his reverie.
Two guards enter the room, leading a prisoner behind them.
Your Estoericness!
The guards throw the prisoner in front of them. It is Tropes, dressed in raggedy peasant clothes.
This man refused to allow Death Grips to be played in his house, claiming it was "an FCC fine waiting to happen for a PG-13 show". What shall we do with him?
thebeatles.com/careersKatrina then does a Quizzical Tilt at Bee's comment. "..how?"
artsy geek | any pronouns | "well, if you're hearing this, then chances are you've made a very poor career choice.""Oooh," Puma says, looking around. "Nice aesthetically trippy dimension you've got here, Kafka."
Very good kittyKafka sneers at the sight of this uncouth plebeian who dares to blemish his domain.
"Heresy beyond imagining. Don't you know age ratings are a scam designed by the Man? Throw him in the dungeon. He'll make a good cellmate for that Justin Bieber punching bag I made when I was 13."
Hail majestic corporate light, heaven born and ever bright!"Hey, what the smeg? If he would rather have, say, the Beatles play in his house instead of Death Grips, then let him be. If there's any bail set, I'll gladly pay for it."
"My light shall be the moon, and my path the ocean, my guide the morning star as I sail home to you...."Kafka snarls as the world around him contorts into a twisted, demonic landscape
◊.
"Your lack of knowledge of Our Saviours the Gecs I could forgive... but a Helluva Boss crossover? Crossover? With all of you plebs?"
The claws on his fingers make a hideous scraping sound as he clutches his throne in rage.
"Let me make one thing clear, Tropeus Eternalis VI. Loona. Is. Mine. For daring to suggest that I give others the chance to take her from me, I sentence you to death! Now, do your pathetic friends have any objections?"
Hail majestic corporate light, heaven born and ever bright!"Dookie, you're not getting sentenced to death. It's our buddy Tropes, which, by the way, I STRONGLY SMEGGING OBJECT!"
"My light shall be the moon, and my path the ocean, my guide the morning star as I sail home to you....""Well that's a shame. I was talking to those guys on fire over there."
(Beat)
"Am I even being fucking sarcastic? Do I care? Do I care about Tropes? Who Is Tropes?"
Edited by DookieIdiotNimrod on Dec 16th 2020 at 12:50:38 PM
"Tropes?!"
Puma looks up at Kafka.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing? If you sentence Tropes to death, that's a... a... a death sentence! But not for him! For the person who does it, which I guess would be you!"
Very good kitty"Son of a Pennywise! That's it!" says Puma.
Puma turns into werecat form and lurches toward the guard who took Tropes' mighty weapon.
Edited by DrNoPuma on Dec 16th 2020 at 5:26:48 AM
Very good kitty"Kafka... I demand that you release Tropes or else,"
(Chey then pulls out a boombox from her bag.)
"I will blast Bee Gees until the smegging cows come home!"

A person was seen moving underground, without proper directioning, after hitting a rock he poked his head out and checked his phone.
Darn it, this isn't Miami. You lied to me, Mr. Zilla, you said I could get there digging!
Excuse moi, Bale, but it seems you forgot you don't have a sense of orientation, much less underground.
That's fair, let's see if I'll find anything here.
He kept digging searching for a place to be in.
Edited by VengefulBale on Dec 13th 2020 at 5:58:53 AM
Prettiest Meta Knight Gijinka, ngl