Because I’m still feeling ill and not up to any sort of heavy lifting and anyway the piece on webcomics isn’t quite done yet (and honest, Brett, I’m working on it)—but anyway, for now, another trifle:

Choose life. Choose a side. Choose a quest. Choose a fellowship. Choose a fucking big sword. Choose elven cloaks, horses, mallorns, and rings of power… choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are and why you’ve got to destroy the fucking thing. Choose sitting by a fire listening to mind-numbing, spirit-crushing ballads, stuffing fucking lembas into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable volcano, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats who left home with you. Choose a future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that?

Via Space Waitress, a collection of surprisingly better-than-not pastiches of you-know-what.