Life is good. That is, it was until the “Creator Of All That Is Evil” plopped my house down next to an active volcano to make room for the seventeen bingo parlors he placed side by side down the main stretch of road. It’s really not all bad. There’s a mini-golf venue right across the street from me; it blends right in with the speakeasy and coal power plant. Fun for the whole family.
I’ve determined that the “Creator Of All That Is Evil” has a sense of humor, seeing as how he replaced everyone’s brownstone houses with deluxe sleep tubes that hold five thousand times the people. He’s probably just making room for more bingo parlors.
“My Shino!” I shouted and waved to my neighbor as she returned from visiting the redistribution center. She just looked at me indifferently, I suppose those mood centers to neutralize your mood really do work.
At least I’m not alone. The “Creator Of All That Is Evil” has filled almost every piece of land as far as the eye can see. He should be commended for trying to prosper what was once a small little town filled with soccer and baseball fields, demolishing them and replacing them with bingo parlors seemed to create the addicts we needed to bring more people in. Why he didn’t think to install World of Warcraft in every household is beyond me, I suppose that will be available in the next expansion.
The “Creator Of All That Is Evil” seems to be up to something, but who am I to question him? Life seems to pause every five seconds and I can hear our deity yelling in the distance, something about homework and hot pockets. This is a bad thing. Maybe if he calms down…
Yeah…We’re screwed.
—