Chat Libs is a ‘Mad Libs’ based activity over on our Twitch live stream. The audience suggests a scenario, I write a story template with missing words, and they fill in the holes. Hilarity ensues. If you wish to participate you can join us at twitch.tv/blainearcade
Scenario: Demonic Flirtation at the Gym
“Looking pretty cranked there, you gorgeous little roller coaster,” the demonic voice commented. Poor Helena Troy, no relation had been suffering from demonic possession for weeks now, after stumbling in a museum and breaking a cursed tamagotchi. The demon’s name was Blake, and he never let her forget it.
He rode along in her head everywhere she went: the laundromat, the Earth’s core, and worst of all the gym. It was a lecherous fiend, and when it saw her Herculean body in the gym’s mirrored walls, slick with sweat and wearing her whiskey-commemorating workout clothes, it couldn’t help but whistle in her mind and make foul comments.
“Just shut up,” she whispered as she set down her 0 pound weights. She was training for a triathlon of rigorous events: chinchilla riding, Aussie martial arts, and a thirty lap run around Mars. Unfortunately she couldn’t even track her breathing rate with the demon panting between her ears. Worst of all, its lust was not limited to her. It quickly noticed an amazing veterinarian doing some squats by the water cooler. It forced her to approach.
“Uhmm… hi,” her poor target said when she was too close for comfort, practically rubbing her vestigial tail on his coonskin cap. “Can I help you? She had to admit he was attractive; his biceps rippled frankly just from grabbing a middle school participation trophy to wipe his face with. There had to be a way out of this without him learning about the demon.
“I was just noticing your whiskers,” she grunted with a nervous laugh. “Would you perhaps want to go to uptown New Jersey with me some time? I know a white place where they have great picket fences.” She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t sense invisible fangs.
“That sounds great!” he replied. The demon cackled, certain it would be getting lucky through its host. She had a different plan, a funkalicious plan. A shared experience would be a great chance to get intimate, to expose their ironing boards to each other, and perhaps to transfer the demon mid-tap dance.
It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fair, but she would masticate a cow if it meant winning the triathlon and not having to share the human flesh medal with such an evil presence. This would just have to be the opening ceremony.