UnGames:Make it to Ketchikan/Thl'Chnakkoh
You open the strange holy book that has appeared near you, and begin to read from the scripture contained within it, while the naked man stares at you in confusion.
THE BEGINNING[edit | edit source]
In the beginning, when the sky, the sea and the earth were as one, when the spirit of Oscar Wilde was scattered in thousands of pieces hidden under the great floating islands of solid nitrogen, when only in man's dream existed the divine shoes that we now call moccasins, there lived two great races of beings.
And one of these great races were the first woodchucks, and the others are what we now know as Octo-Clams, the ancestors of all beings that dwelleth in our oceans and seas. Now these two races were in a constant literal race, with the woodchucks being clearly with an advantage over the lowly molluscs. And the two did race for seconds and minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years and decades and centuries and millennia and, well, aye, thou gettest the idea, probably.
And the woodchucks did run circles around the Octo-Clams, and they did taunt those sluggish creatures, and they did so without end for seconds and minutes and hours and, well, I wish not to repeat that dreadfully lengthy phrase again. Now, where were we, oh, we were here: The woodchucks did continue to taunt the Octo-Clams for seemingly eternity, non stop, without end, and due to this burden did the Octo-Clams grow ever slower, yet they began to be filled with an unstoppable rage.
So the Octo-Clams summoned one another, and they did aggregate into one cluster in the suspended chaotic mixture of land, sky and sea, and a horrifyingly putrid stench certainly emanated from this cluster of molluscs. Yet in this cluster, more joyous than ever were the Octo-Clams, who then discussed how they would then defeat the woodchucks in this seemingly impossible race… this race in which the Octo-Clams had remained underdogs for seconds, minutes, hours, days, and yada-yada-yada.
Even after five thousand, eight hundred and sixty-six generations of Octo-Clams had copulated, birthed new Octo-Clams, and perished within their cluster, none could think of an answer to how the Octo-Clams could finally win in this horribly unbalanced eternal race. That is, until one young Octo-Clam came forth, and his name was the not-yet-almighty Thl'Chnakkoh. The Great One, the Almighty, Overlord-Of-All-That-Dwells-In-The-Sea Himself, Thl'Chnakkoh suggested that the woodchucks should be coaxed into having a massive orgy, so that the female woodchucks would all become pregnant, and thus slower.
"Thou hast given us a bizarre yet most fantastic idea," said the old Kshtquanucktur, ——-
After hearing all this rambling about Octo-Clams and woodchucks, the naked man got closer to you, slammed the book shut, and bludgeoned you to death. Not because of your blasphemous texts, but because he was getting rather bored.
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