The TGSPGoSSP 2-Part TrilogyChristopher D Schmitz / Humor
The TGSPGoSSP 2-Part Trilogy
Copyright 2016 by Christopher D Schmitz
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About the TGSPGoSSP
The TGSPGoSSP stands for The Gilgalesh Satire Players Guild of Satirical Satire Players.
Imagine if Monty Python’s Flying Circus lived in your head or you were a cynical curmudgeon (like a cross between a broke Donald Trump and Clint Eastwood’s character from Gran Torino) but weren’t mean enough to actual articulate the thoughts about people that sometimes amble through your head, begging to be voiced. That sort of lampooning might migrate to the fingers and be printed, rather than vocalized… and remember there’s a difference between libel and slander—they are separate crimes according to the law.
Let me tell you who they TGSPGoSSP are: a bunch of imaginary friends who live inside my head and keep me just inside the thin line that separates the foil-hat basket-weavers from the asylum admin. Yes, I have imaginary friends… and half of them even like me.
These “friends” act out the stories in dark humor fashion as they mock everything I love and help me laugh at myself. If they hurt your feelings… well, you’ll have to take it up with them.
The Epic Quest of Big Epicness
(originally published by The Cynic Online Magazine, April 2008)
The Gilgalesh Satire Players Guild of Satirical Satire Players, (or the TGSPGoSSP since acronyms are always easier to remember,) presents…
The Epic Quest of Big Epicness
She was jaded, like an ancient greenish Buddha statute. As a paladin of little renown, Shannon had been forced to make nice with others. Gilgalesh could be a harsh land if you had nobody to watch your back for you.
Shannon sat with her friends in the guildhouse. They were a typical crew, she reflected, but not too bright. She was the smarterest one, so the task had fallen to her as their de facto leader. They had been on several adventures together, and their individual strengths complemented what lacked in each other. They had a wizard, a thief, a druid, a barbarian, a paladin, and a token orc warrior.
She took stock of the group as they sat around the old, beaten couches in the guildhouse’s lounge. Rivera, the old wizard, shook the dice in the cup. As they rattled, he mumbled a spell to ward against rolling natural ones again.
The wizard rolled. Every face up die displayed a one, which was predictable since every facet on their D20s was a one. Rivera cursed. “Why do we even play this game? Nothing ever happens. We just sit here and roll until our characters die of old age. I’ve never even leveled up.” He picked up the game manual. “Why in the world did someone create a game called Dungeons & Dungeons? You don’t think we could have added something else to make it more interesting? Maybe we could add a dragon or something?”
“Oh, shut up,” Shannon told Rivera. That cockamamie wizard had the stupidest ideas sometimes. They only let him join the guild because he was also an apothecary; potions being his business, he was the only one amongst them that could mix a good glass of ice water.
“While I believe that our erstwhile companion has acted overzealously in the past, perhaps his proposal has merit. I decree, that forthwith, we enliven our sport with an increased volume of rousing exploits,” said Griskh, the green-skinned orc.
Brisco, their cleric, jumped up and down, imitating a typical orc, mocking Griskh. “Me got good idea. Me not dumb bunny. Me say we do sock-puppet show for PBS fundraiser. We orcs is stoopeed.”
Griskh shook his head and sighed.
Shannon knew Brisco was right. Everyone knew that orcs were universally stupid. While Griskh’s idea had advantages, anything involving PBS could only end in woe. She sighed with boredom. Shannon was prone to morbid sighs. I think I’m depressed because all my friends are all so much more stupider than me, she thought. What compels me to even hang out with these guys?
The memory came flooding back to her. When she first came of age, she and her two friends had gone to a local guildhouse to join up. Her former friends, BFFs actually, Barbie and Barbie, brought her with them.
“Like, hello,” the greeter had said. “My name is Barbie, pleased to meet you.” She smiled at Barbie and Barbie, and then scowled at Shannon. “Look here, it’s the guild president, Barbie.”
Barbie wore a nametag for obvious reasons.
“Look here,” said the president, Barbie, “new recruits. My you girls look well-tanned,” she said to the bronzed Barbie and Barbie as they tousled their flaxen hair. “You should all come and meet my boyfriend, The Ken.”
Barbie and Barbie’s jaws dropped. “What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Ken,” they gushed simultaneously.
Barbie frowned at Shannon. Her raven hair and pale skin did not seem to fit in here.
“Oh look! Tanning beds!” the two recruits exclaimed and ran off, leaving their misfit friend behind to face the awkward silence.
Shannon shrugged and stepped into the guild.
“As if! I think you need to leave,” said the greeter.
“Goth won’t be chic for another few years, so run along until then.”
That was the last she had seen of her friends. Though, she did recently read that the entire Barbie cult committed mass suicide later. Apparently The Ken instructed them all to drink poisonous Kool-aid. Shannon knew that she was too cool for Kool-aid.
Shannon looked across at her new friends. At least these people respected her and valued her for who she was.
Sitting next to Ragnar the Barbarian, Brisco piped up, “Hey Shannon, how bout you make yourself useful and go snag me a cold one.”
Shannon bristled. She hated being treated like an object, let alone being talked to like that; it was insulting. The Barbarian always stuck up for her. “Are you just going to let him talk to me like that?” she asked Ragnar.
The barbarian shrugged and continued knitting the pair of socks he had been working on.
A voice piped up from down below. “I think you should go,” said Pinto, their Halfling thief. “It would sure give my back a break.”
Sitting on him like a stool, Shannon heel-kicked him in the face. “Quiet you!” she demanded. “Nobody asked for your opinion. And I refuse to be treated like someone’s personal property!”
But, she was bored. Shannon craved adventure, and this would have to suffice until the boys gave up playing their futile game of Dungeons & Dungeons. For now, braving the trip to the refrigerator would have to do.
Acquiescing to her friends’ pleas for refreshment, she relented and set out to find a couple of cold root beers.