Read Online Xtreme Manly Man Force of Intense Badassery: Book One: The Fountain of Testoserone by Kell Inkston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kell Inkston
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sound of the beautiful music; he can't let the others know
that he appreciates something as refined as the classical
genre.
“Heh! That wasn't so bad! You guys
really should stop being such noobs and try tricking people into
carrying you around also!” Mr. Honkers criticizes with a smirk;
somehow still panting from the exercise he made fifteen minutes
prior. The others ignore his comment and move on, having learned
fairly well by now that arguing or defending oneself against him
with words is practically useless, as Mr. Honkers seems to use a
very specialized form of logic that few others are quite rich
enough to share with him.
“Yes, this view is marvelous. Great.
Are you guys ready to go?” DTO says. Mr. Honkers nods and says “Of
course.” IMRM is silent. SISY nods quickly and strongly, clearly
conveying his agreement, and UDGD just says “Yeah.” The group
begins their descent into the great Eastern swamp. The trip down
proves to be far less challenging on the group than the one
upwards, and only takes a fraction of the time. By the time they
get below the tree line, the atmosphere completely
changes.
A swelling, humid heat overtakes the
group, as if they were being enveloped in a blanket of moisture and
warmth. The thick canopy of the swampy trees lets barely any light
through, entirely trapping the swamp in a sort of twilight; not the
stupid kind with sparkling sissy vampires who are unable to
properly convey romantic emotions to underage females, the normal,
light-level-related kind. The group is greeted by a chorus of
chirping, buzzing insects, incessantly screeching and warning the
group of the intensely-high manliness-level-requirement for this
place. Most striking to the group, however, is the total change in
the Subspace Orchestra's mood. Droning with outlandish-sounding,
hypnotic power is a group of didgeridoos, accompanied by a
low-toned banjo, serving as the only hint of form and order in the
music. It is obvious from this change of musical spirit that this
swamp is even manlier than your typical manly swamp, as it is
playing these low toned instruments instead of a reverberant cello,
which is what the Subspace Orchestra tends to use for most manly
swamps.
Making note of these factors, UDGD
realizes that the place they have just entered is definitely way
manlier than the bleak wasteland, and that it probably contains
super-manly foes to kill.
“WELL DAMN! THESE BUGS ARE LOUD!” SISY
yells with a grin, now totally-pumped for an awesome swamp fight.
The others acknowledge him, communicating: “Yes, thank you, Sir.
Obvious,” and press onward.
“So, Robo-Dork,” Mr. Honkers addresses
to IMRM, who is holding him up on his shoulders.
“Yes?” IMRM says.
“We're almost there, right?”
“No, sorry. I estimate that,
considering our current speed and the distance we still have to go,
our trip to our destination should take about two-to-three days,”
IMRM says capably and calmly, as if he were expecting to make this
trip for years. Mr. Honkers looses an epic groan, sounding like an
angry cat in a cage being slowly lowered into a pool filled with
water, as inappropriately-cheerful music plays. DTO smirks under
his hood, glad to hear that Mr. Honkers is not enjoying this
commitment in the slightest. It is not so much that DTO dislikes
the little guy or any– wait no, that's exactly what it
is.
“Three days?! How will we survive?!”
the short man whines over the insects.
“I am capable of food procurement in
every biome that we will encounter. Food will be no problem,” IMRM
states.
“Psssh, whatever... Scrub!” is the last
thing that Mr. Honkers says for the next several
minutes.
Time passes, and the bugs only increase
in their irritating intensity of noise. However obvious it is, it
takes a few minutes for UDGD to realize just how loud these stupid
insects are. As the group trudges through the deep, swampy swamp,
the legions of bugs go on and on like a bunch of stupid
that he appreciates something as refined as the classical
genre.
“Heh! That wasn't so bad! You guys
really should stop being such noobs and try tricking people into
carrying you around also!” Mr. Honkers criticizes with a smirk;
somehow still panting from the exercise he made fifteen minutes
prior. The others ignore his comment and move on, having learned
fairly well by now that arguing or defending oneself against him
with words is practically useless, as Mr. Honkers seems to use a
very specialized form of logic that few others are quite rich
enough to share with him.
“Yes, this view is marvelous. Great.
Are you guys ready to go?” DTO says. Mr. Honkers nods and says “Of
course.” IMRM is silent. SISY nods quickly and strongly, clearly
conveying his agreement, and UDGD just says “Yeah.” The group
begins their descent into the great Eastern swamp. The trip down
proves to be far less challenging on the group than the one
upwards, and only takes a fraction of the time. By the time they
get below the tree line, the atmosphere completely
changes.
A swelling, humid heat overtakes the
group, as if they were being enveloped in a blanket of moisture and
warmth. The thick canopy of the swampy trees lets barely any light
through, entirely trapping the swamp in a sort of twilight; not the
stupid kind with sparkling sissy vampires who are unable to
properly convey romantic emotions to underage females, the normal,
light-level-related kind. The group is greeted by a chorus of
chirping, buzzing insects, incessantly screeching and warning the
group of the intensely-high manliness-level-requirement for this
place. Most striking to the group, however, is the total change in
the Subspace Orchestra's mood. Droning with outlandish-sounding,
hypnotic power is a group of didgeridoos, accompanied by a
low-toned banjo, serving as the only hint of form and order in the
music. It is obvious from this change of musical spirit that this
swamp is even manlier than your typical manly swamp, as it is
playing these low toned instruments instead of a reverberant cello,
which is what the Subspace Orchestra tends to use for most manly
swamps.
Making note of these factors, UDGD
realizes that the place they have just entered is definitely way
manlier than the bleak wasteland, and that it probably contains
super-manly foes to kill.
“WELL DAMN! THESE BUGS ARE LOUD!” SISY
yells with a grin, now totally-pumped for an awesome swamp fight.
The others acknowledge him, communicating: “Yes, thank you, Sir.
Obvious,” and press onward.
“So, Robo-Dork,” Mr. Honkers addresses
to IMRM, who is holding him up on his shoulders.
“Yes?” IMRM says.
“We're almost there, right?”
“No, sorry. I estimate that,
considering our current speed and the distance we still have to go,
our trip to our destination should take about two-to-three days,”
IMRM says capably and calmly, as if he were expecting to make this
trip for years. Mr. Honkers looses an epic groan, sounding like an
angry cat in a cage being slowly lowered into a pool filled with
water, as inappropriately-cheerful music plays. DTO smirks under
his hood, glad to hear that Mr. Honkers is not enjoying this
commitment in the slightest. It is not so much that DTO dislikes
the little guy or any– wait no, that's exactly what it
is.
“Three days?! How will we survive?!”
the short man whines over the insects.
“I am capable of food procurement in
every biome that we will encounter. Food will be no problem,” IMRM
states.
“Psssh, whatever... Scrub!” is the last
thing that Mr. Honkers says for the next several
minutes.
Time passes, and the bugs only increase
in their irritating intensity of noise. However obvious it is, it
takes a few minutes for UDGD to realize just how loud these stupid
insects are. As the group trudges through the deep, swampy swamp,
the legions of bugs go on and on like a bunch of stupid
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