Ringleaders: The following is an account of how I met your Off-topic: *** So I had just broken up with my girlfriend, she was everything man, the whole deal: brains, brawn, the looks, the eyes...the...the...I'm going to stop before I cry in public. I was sitting at a restaurant and had just finished telling the waiter my sob story and how I'll never get a girl like her again when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Psst." Came a loud sound in my ear. I turned to see who would dare interrupt the story of my life with a "psst". " What..? " I asked him, turning to see a man with short combed hair and dark glasses. "Heard you were having, ahem, "lady" problems." I looked at the man dumbly for a moment. Who was this guy to be giving me love advice at a time like this? "And I guess you have all the answers, mr..?" "Oh, good goodness no, I'm just terribly excellent at screwing things up so often that to reverse reverse the negativityness.." As he spoke he took off his glasses. Somehow, those glasses had hidden his face so well that I had not recognized the face of Nathan Fillion himself. "And I just so happen to be one with the ladies when the occasion demands." "Nathan Fillion...what are you doing here..? " He made a face and said in a very not serious tone, "What? Can't a guy but a sandwich nowadays. Unless you think I'm some sort of god or something that's above the mortal trappings of a good greasy burger and fries." He laughed the comments off as he pulled me up by the shoulder. As he pulled me along I found myself with surprisingly little to say. He took me to a bar not so far from where I had been eating and pointed out a couple of girls. "Okay," he said as he turned his pointer to me. " So listen closely, we're going on the offensive and in the likely case that we don't make it out of here, I just want you to know, you were a good man. " He patted me on the shoulder and started walking towards the women. "Alright?" "...Alright? " "Alright!" I followed Fillion towards the bar, not sure if this was a good idea or not, but I'd never done anything like this before so how should I know? Before sitting next to the first lady, Fillion turned and mouthed the words "wish me luck". I nodded in affirmation as Nathan confidently said to the lady: "Hey, girl." She looked over and I started to take notes, maybe this would work after all... "I have all the materials we need to make Muppets of each other." It was at that moment that cold terror gripped me, we were both of us doomed, and everyone would blame me for the death of Capt Mal, and Castle, and Cayde, and Officer Nolan, and whoever he played in Buffy the vampire slayer, ahem, Caleb. A split second later he turned to me with a slap mark on his face and crinkled brows. "Hm." He opened his mouth to say something , stopped, opened again and raised his forefinger, then shut his mouth again. At last he said, "you're turn!" And pushed me up next to the second lady. She looked at me expectantly. "I know Nathan Fillion." It was the only saving grace I had. "He's, uh, actually here with me right now." She looked surprised and asked if she could meet him. I turned around to point out the actor when I found that Nathan had disappeared. I looked around the room in vain, seeing only his failed date roaming the room angrily, probably wanting to kill him. "Eh, heh..." *** I walked out of the bar with what little dignity I had left that day, utterly bemused and disgraced. I saw Nathan Fillion make b-line straight for me and when he caught up he looked mortified. "Whoo....that did not go as we had planned..." "No, " I said. "I don't think it did." "You know, I may just know a way to make you feel better, maybe." I looked over. "Yeah?" "Video Games, and a whole other dimension..!" I looked at him strangely for a minute. "See, there's this game that's really great, and it may or may not be because I'm in it. But, if it were, then I'd be recommending you play it. But...here's the thing. They killed me." "They what!?" "Yes," he said somberly . "Sudden and yet inevitable betrayal. I was in two of their games...they sold the one, still in the series but Bungie doesn't own me anymore... and killed me in another! Such sweet sorrow..." "That's terrible." "Seriously! But there's one place left there that is still cool and follows what I would ask of the people called Bungie." "What is this place?" "The Flo---I mean Off-topic. They're rowdy, nasty, free, a bit psychotic, and boy do they aim to misbehave!" "How can I get there? " I asked. "Real life holds nothing for me anymore!" He put a copy of Density in my hands and looked at me seriously. "You have to go through this. Now I know it looks bad, and maybe it is, but who knows, maybe at the other end is pot of gold, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be there watching." "You visit the land of Off-topic?" "Pssh! Of course! I have to use an alt these days after they banned me...they don't want me there..." He whispered the last phrase. "I'll do it!" "Alright!" He smiled and handed me a game controller. "Alright." "One more thing. If you see a user with the name [Redacted], that's me, okay?" I looked at the disc in my hands and wondered what horrors might be inside, but what ever they were, it must be worth the prize of such a holy land. "Thank you, Nathan, this changes everything." "It does, buddy, it does. " He turned to walk away but then seemingly remembered something and swiftly turned around. "I almost forgot to give you this." In his hand was a bag filled with Molasses Cookies. "Um, thank you...I think." "Of course! You'll understand soon enough." I took a bite of the cookie as I watched the great man walk away. As he went, I too walked away. Away from reality and towards a new land, "this" land. And the cookie? The cookie tasted like freedom.

Perfectly balanced... as all things should be.

Naturally I like mine, but NightHawk's was good too

Nighthawks: You want a car that gets the job done? You want a car that’s hassle free? You want a car that literally no one will ever compliment you on? Well look no further. The 1999 Toyota Corolla. Let’s talk about features. Bluetooth: nope Sunroof: nope Fancy wheels: nope Rear view camera: nope . . . but it’s got a transparent rear window and you have a -blam!-ing neck that can turn. Let me tell you a story. One day my Corolla started making a strange sound. I didn’t give a shit and ignored it. It went away. The End. You could take the engine out of this car, drop it off the Golden Gate Bridge, fish it out of the water a thousand years later, put it in the trunk of the car, fill the gas tank up with Nutella, turn the key, and this puppy would -blam!-ing start right up. This car will outlive you, it will outlive your children. Things this car is old enough to do: Vote: yes Consent to sex: yes Rent a car: it IS a car This car’s got history. It’s seen some shit. People have done straight things in this car. People have done gay things in this car. It’s not going to judge you like a -blam!-ing Volkswagen would. Interesting facts: This car’s exterior color is gray, but its interior color is grey. In the owner’s manual, oil is listed as “optional.” When this car was unveiled at the 1998 Detroit Auto Show, it caused all 2,000 attendees to spontaneously yawn. The resulting abrupt change in air pressure inside the building caused a partial collapse of the roof. Four people died. The event is chronicled in the documentary, “Bored to Death: The Story of the 1999 Toyota Corolla” You wanna know more? Great, I had my car fill out a Facebook survey. Favorite food: spaghetti Favorite TV show: Alf Favorite band: tie between Bush and the Gin Blossoms This car is as practical as a Roth IRA. It’s as middle-of-the-road as your grandpa during his last Silver Alert. It’s as utilitarian as a member of a church whose scripture is based entirely on water bills. When I ran the CarFax for this car, I got back a single piece of paper that said, “It’s a Corolla. It’s fine.” Let’s face the facts, this car isn’t going to win any beauty contests, but neither are you. Stop lying to yourself and stop lying to your wife. This isn’t the car you want, it’s the car you deserve: The -blam!-ing 1999 Toyota Corolla.