Stockin' the Stuffin' [Shop Refill Thread/Galaxicon Day]

Well it's that kinda season ladies and germs. The season a togetherness and warm tidin's an' whatnot. The season a givin'. An' givin' means spendin'. Which means people are gonna buy my shit so I gotta stock up. Yeah the stuff's really been flyin' off the shelves over the last couple'a days, everyone needs a new watchamacallit or doodad to fuggen justify themselves or whatnot. 'Sides, shiny shit means assholes wanna take it, so I'm expectin' a lotta people are gonna wanna prepare themselves fer the Gaspacho season'a thievin' or whatever the fuck they call it here. Figure I can be sold out in a few days an' I'll have all new stock to sell the next, let the demand drive up the price and watch that money come cartwheelin' up to my counter.

...the fuggam I kiddin'? I'm the only one what buys my own shit, ain't no one want this trash. Fuggen penny pinchin' fuckwits. Ah fuggem, I want my shit. That stuff's useful even if it's fuggen garbage. Don't come cryin' to me when you got yer back up against a wall and need a lockpick. Or do. And gimme some fuggen money while yer at it, this shit ain't a hobby it's s'posed to put food on the table. And I ain't sell nothin' so I ain't fuggen got none, might as well go out diggin' in the fuggen bins fer shit to eat. So I hit the stonework chewin' on my pipe like a dog on a gnome. Seriously you ever seen that shit? Dogs hate gnomes, whaddya fuggen know. It's the funniest damn thing you'll ever watch, all this screamin' and barkin' and jinglin', it's like watchin' a guy fall down the stairs with a case a pies. Only funnier cuz bad shit's happenin' to gnomes. But anyway I'm walkin' down the street lookin' fer all the shit that people threw out that they don't want no more. Lotta people throw out real useful shit this time a season like tin cans an' wire, it's good fer business. But I'm mean muggin' every motherfucker that cross my path cuz fuggem. Ol' Grubby didn't get nothin' fer Jalapeno Day or however the fuck ya say it. Know what I got? Fuggen sores on my ass from sittin' around waitin' fer people to buy shit and no one came. Humbug. Yeah I fuggen said it and I'll say it again, all these motherfuckers can go to the lower planes fer all I fuggen care if that ain't where we already is. Coulda fooled me. What kinda fuggen slummy ass thieves ain't need no tools? I seriously doubt all'a these assholes got the brains to make their own shit. Gotta be stealin' it. Buncha greenhorn jagoffs not havin' their own shit.

So's I'm walkin' down the street there cussin' an' fumin' an' hackin' an' wheezin', lookin' through all the bins fer stuff people tossed out when they got their new shiny shit. Makes me fuggen sick how people can throw some'a this shit away. I found a whole fuggen roast in the garbage, someone just tossed that shit right in the street. ...the fuck do you mean, a'course I ate that shit I ain't stupid. It was just a 'lil dirty, still good though. I sucked ale outta a bear skin rug one time, I ain't ashamed a shit. Still pisses me off though. It's like people ain't even care, the holiday ain't got no meanin'. It's a fuggen excuse to eat like a fatass and mooch off people an' that's fuggen disappointing. Ya can do that every day fer free fer fuck's sake, just lower yer damn standards instead'a makin' a holiday 'round it. Anyways I got all these damn thoughts in my head an' no one to bitch too which is fuggen weird when ya think about it cuz I'm old an' I can get away with murder as long as I bring up how I had to walk uphill in the snow both ways an' I see just the thing that brightens my fuggen day.

I see me a chest.

An' not just any ol' chest and I ain't bein' a fuggen horn dog about this neither, I see an honest to fuggen Pelor treasure chest. Fully made'a wood, got the lockin' clasp on it, I can even smell the mildew from here. An' it's just sittin' on the fuggen curb there. Boy I tell ya I almost sprayed in my shorts when I saw that damn thing, it was like a mirage. 'Cept y'know, I'm not dyin'. At least I ain't think I is. ...shit now I'm freakin' myself out. Whatever, fuggen treasure chest. Been a long fuggen while since I saw one'a these beauties an' the only time I seen one where I ain't gotta kill some undead motherfucker with daddy issues or like a dozen orcs to get one. ...I look around a bit just to make sure, ain't gonna take no chances here. Probably a fuggen mimic or some shit... fuggit, I'm goin' fer it. I suck on my pipe a bit and I walk up to the damn thing and give it a kick. It don't eat me. Good fuggen deal. So's I open the damn thing and wouldn't ya fuggen know it this treasure chest is filled with rusty nails and broken glass.

...now I'm man enough to admit it almost put a tear to my eye. I couldn't'a asked fer a better find than this shit, think'a all the fuggen flash bombs an' lockpicks an' dowsin' rods I can make outta this shit lemme tell ya. So's I start stuffin' my pockets with busted bottles an' bent screws laughin' like a damn maniac. I can't even take all the shit I want so I just start pushin' that damn wooden chest right down the street there, slidin' it all the way on the fuggen walkway, runnin' people over with it an' knocking people down while I giggle like a fuggen bar wench. An' to think I ain't believe I'd get lucky on Gelatto Day. Merry fuggen Christmas jagoffs! Merry Christmas to me!