On the Price of Beard Cobwebs

 

On the Shelf:	Behind the Counter:
₵$20 Ghost Tobacco (20)	₵$144 Bux. Semp X Cannabis (One Plant)
₵$20 Bloody Mary	₵$17 Shiraz of Maybe Electrical Damage
₵$50 El Dorado Green (1/4)	₵$145 The Safe of What You Want for Dinner
₵$36 Black Meat (g)	₵$100 Chocolate Bar
₵$1 Slut Root (kg)	₵$104 Bottled Emotions
₵$25 Marital Aid Potion	₵$32 Beard Cobwebs
₵$50 Quetzalcoatl Feathers (doz.)	₵$74 Tofu Which Pairs Perfectly with Your Wine (350g)
₵$5 Blue Roses (doz.)	₵$20 Cuck Chair
₵$68 Mythril (oz.)	₵$50 Self-Cooking Olive Oil (375 ml)
₵$9 BZTCN	₵$48 Quad-Option Flare Gun

This Week's Special:

Judea wakes feeling good about himself. He is ready. For people, for markets. He feels it in his balls.

Doris the camel sees Judea back-and-forth past kitchen window and stops chewing - she understands. She has gotten a bit chubs. Judea has fared worse and she wonders how to broach subject of his slowly accrued pong, considering she is camel.

But first, Judea checks where he left his roving-tradings, his merchandise to travelling-merchant. Sascha the Sex-Doll Goon Sack is voluptuous with Wynns 2022 Coonawarra Shiraz. The Brick of Cocaine is still good. Judea does not remember what Beard Cobwebs are or how he got a bag of them, but it is certainly labelled.

The market for Beard Cobwebs will be patient. The strands can be carefully parsed and rewoven into a net which, magic, only catches males. Hunters gonna' hunt and hunters wanna' hunt again, one key many two-holes. They are also good for gazebo occasions.

That market is Amy.

On one knee, Amy bounces sight - down nocked arrow - between standing targets.  Iris catches breath through gritted smile, right hand clutching baseball bat at rest, blonde hair loose and striped with blood. Pivot aim right - Azrael pisses on something still flaming. Amy spins aim 180° to Doc Hasselhoff, who raises glass of  Penley 'Phoenix' 2021 Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon and thumbs-ups the all-clear.

They are in a circular chamber, somewhere underground, you know the sort. Furry corpses scatter both floors. This is not implying that the Furry subculture is inclined to human sacrifice. Instead this is (was?) a Lawful Evil cult that adopted Furrist trappings in case anybody needed excuse. The Lawful Evil alignment is evidenced by the sconces.

Azrael has pissed the fire off the corpse. Amy slips arm through bow, stands and stretches. Doc Hoff cracks her beer and she lights a dart, stabs knife into corpse just (horizontally speaking) above its hip. She slides knife through suit and skin, fused together in fire, up to armpit.

Amy skins the Furry. It does not make a good fur. It is, however, an ethical fur. There is probably a market for that.

That market is Michael.

Wednesday night is take-out night and Michael has come to like Seoul Express’ spicy tofu soup, paired with prosecco. Kristy spleeted an eyebrow when he snapped disposable chopsticks apart – this was new. Whilst not the whitest guy around, Michael is pretty white. Chopsticks went nyam-nyam – Michael grabbed some veggies, then some kimchi, the tofu sliced in two but he gently lifted a half.

White guys capably using chopsticks, without putting in any work to learn how, is something of a meme. This meme is popular amongst the Gods of Asian Takeout, who have names like Robert and Esther. Whenever a Michael happens, one will cough their bento into oyster pail and share their phone with compatriots. It is customary to bestow the Michael with White Guy Chopsticks, because that is also a meme.

White Guy Chopsticks bestow the user with agility (plus one, to clarify). They grant the owner with +1 Perception, mostly olfactory. They dull the parts of brain associated with racism, for everybody within nine-metre radius. Michael does all these things naturally, so he opts to put White Guy Chopsticks on the market.

That market is Easy.

Easy got home at 6.30 – the Boomers had been out at the pokies since 4.00 He turns aircon on to use the last photovoltaic potential after a swelter of a day left house warm. The dogs have not been fed or walked, the dishwasher still full and dirty. What pisses him is that they did not let him know, because he coulda’ rubber armed two beers on way home.

Easy’s bulky file lands in the slush pile of the Goddess of Parentage just as she pulls from it. It puzzles her and eyebrows carumbrum. She adjudicates to assistants and finds that he was supposed to find a nice girl seven years ago. The fuck is this shit?

Lo, a boon: Easy’s glasses plick on periphery when a woman cops perv on him. This is useful to the guy looking to winky-smile at gal whilst on his perambulating way. Easy has already updated his cognitive implant to do this. So now he does not need the Glasses of Girl Opportunity and puts them on the market.

That market is Judea.

 

* Prices have reasons.