So I was listening to Welcome to Night Vale while thinking about Homestuck and somehow this happened. In fact, you probably shouldn't even read this. Just go. Run. Run while you still have the chance and don't have to fret about the giant glow cloud above you.
And yes, in my mind Dave is a shitty rapper don't judge me.
There are no obvious ships in this, what are you even talking about. That's ridiculous. Blasphemy, I tell you.
The grammar also might not be quite what you're used to, but I was trying to write it like a radio broadcast, so hopefully it doesn't suck too badly.
So it's like smoking hot over here in the shitstain of Texas and I think I'm actually starting to sweat my skin off. No joke, the liquids I'm dripping? Not sweat. It's actually melted flesh rolling down the sexy contours of my exposed muscles.
This is TurntechGodhead, and welcome to Sburb.
/
So the trolls have asked me to tell you dirty little "nook-nudgers" that you are not to communicate with the voices in your dreams. I repeat, do not communicate with the voices in your dreams. Rose Lalonde foolishly ignored their advice and locked herself away in the darkest cave with a salamander named Casey, a laptop, and a stolen cue ball. Apparently her cave has wifi because she just messaged me to say the salamander is here and she has renamed it some German name I can't be paid to pronounce. Again, don't talk to voices in dream bubbles.
/
Now with the news.
It has been reported from multiple sources that a portal opened up in the troll lab. Apparently, our dear friend Karkles shit a brick because a hand popped out of that little hole in space. Officials are saying the hand seemed strangely similar to one John Egbert's, and said man was taken to an undisclosed location into Karkat's room for a private questioning that most likely will include yelling, rough sex, and many a shattered object.
Go easy on him, Kitkat. That's my best bro you have there.
/
Also, Dirk Strider, a man who may look startling alike to yours truly but whom I promise has no relation whatsoever to this charming radio voice, has officially asked Jake English to marry him. Aww, ain't it the sweetest gay engagement that ever did blossom from a deranged and obsessive friendship?
/
I have just gotten multiple reports that nameless individuals with skin the color of pitch and others the color of pure, freshly fallen snow have wandered into town. Do not approach these individuals. Do not talk to them. Don't even look at them. Seriously, we've had enough doomed timelines to haunt the dreams of innocent children for generations; be cautious of something for once in your soon-to-be-doomed-despite-my-wise-advice lives. You don't even know anything about these ****ing things, come on.
/
Holy ****ing **** on a ****. Apple juice is now on sale at any and every gas station. **** yes. You'll know where I'll be this evening. Gog****.
/
And now to the weather. Give me a beat, Bro.
Yo, my name's TG,
And I'm hear to give you the heads up,
That despite the fact you're all a bunch of shut ups,
And anyone whose not is most likely a **** up,
This show is totally out of wack,
And probably broadcasts my lack of tact,
But cut me some slack,
This BS is pretty hard to put together,
And I ain't ever taken any of your crap, never,
But even so you could at least be nice,
And try not to put me in such a vice,
Anyway I just wanted to say that the weather is pretty chill.
/
Welcome back to my sick show. Now lets put some beats down and take this nice and slow.
People have been calling up here like mad to report a bunch of weird stuff I don't feel like hearing, so all of you ****heads are going to voicemail. Deal with it, and feel my silky Strider voice sooth your worries through my answering machine. I'm sure you'll feel an immediate calm.
So stop calling up here already, would you? You ****ing fans are cute and everything, but **** like this is just annoying.
/
Have you ever tasted heaven? Ever smelled something so delicious your freakin saliva glands overwork themselves and become a flooding waterfall on fire and steaming at the same time like some freaky coincidence of nature we're not allowed to talk about on air?
If you haven't, you need to go to Crocker's Goods. Jane will hook you up.
/
And now welcome to Romantic Nights with Karkat.
**** you, Strider.
Alright you ****-*******-*****, start calling so I can answer your gog forsaken quadrant problems.
"Hi Karkat!"
Ugh. What the **** do you want, John? I'm in the middle of a show.
"But I have a romantic question!"
Grr. Fine. What is it?
"Should I be worried if a troll starts to become . . . Possessive?"
Hold the **** up. Who the ****ing **** is getting possessive of you? You tell me that ****er's name right the **** now or so help me gog I will march over to your hive, mic in hand, and torture it out of you.
"Kinky! But I'm just asking because a friend is too nervous to."
It's Jade, isn't it?
"So?"
****. I can answer that in person. I'm hanging up, Egbert. Goodbye, love you, don't call up here again when I'm working.
"Aw, but Kar-"
*Dead line*
/
Next caller.
"What's up my pale bro?"
Why the **** am I only getting a bunch of ****ing morons on my show?
"Honk."
What's your ****ing problem?
"Well, see, I don't all up and have a romantic problem, Karbro."
Then why the **** are you calling?!
"Remember Kanaya?"
Obviously.
"Do you, uh, remember when she had that grudge against me for killing our homies?"
Oh my gog. What did you do?
"Do you hear the chainsaw yet?"
Oh my gog, oh my gog-Kanaya if you hear me stop this instant, please, I only have two quadrants and I'd rather not go back to none since I decided I'd kill John myself.
"She said she'd take my spot. Honk."
Oh thank gog.
So why the **** are calling me?
"Er . . . I was kind of hopin' you'd dash in like my little miracle and save this mother ****er."
I'll think about it.
*dead line*
/
Next!
"Yo."
Strider, get the **** of my show! You have your own!
"Aw, but I'm in a crisis here, Kitkat. I need serious help. I feel all dizzy and kawaii and my kokoro goes doki doki-"
Which ****ing Strider is this? Is this Dave or Dick?
"It's Dirk, ***hole."
Of ****ing course. Gog, I hate you people. Platonically.
*dead line*
/
This next caller better be ****ing serious or I'm going to chew my own legs off and proceed to rip out my ocular orbs with my own two clawed hands.
"Well. That was graphic."
Terezi. I. Will. Cull. You.
"But I have problems."
We all know you have problems. You're a blind troll obsessed with hanging people and judical systems.
"But I have quadrant problems."
Gog. ****. It. Fine, tell me all about your romantic problems. Surely they can't be as dumb as some of our other callers'.
"You never listened to any of their problems."
Terezi, I am this close to hanging up on you.
*Cackling* "Alright then. So, Karkles, tell me how I might go about wooing someone into my black quadrant."
Holy ****. You actually have a romantic problem?
"Why else would I call?"
Ask the other ****ing retarded idiots calling my show.
Okay, so the first thing you need to do is take things slow. In all the movies, fast-paced courting is a big no-no and has led to several untimely as **** deaths. Secondly, you're going to need to very subtly scent him or her. VERY SUBTLY.
"Oh, so like what you did to John?"
WHAT THE **** ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I NEVER SO MUCH AS ****ING SNIFFED THAT ****-****-**** HATEFULLY.
*Cackling*
**** YOU.
*dead line*
/
Okay, **** this I am done for the night. Move out of my way, Strider, because I am so ****ing done. Vantas out.
/
As always, due to an early leave on Kitkat's part we will now backtrack this production to me.
Update on the massive callers thing: you mother****ers still haven't stopped. By all that is holy, please, stop calling the station. We don't care about your problems.
/
**** this is good AJ. Gotta love those gas stations, bros. Gotta love 'em. I couldn't find AJ this cheap anywhere but from my Bro, though that's mostly 'cause he didn't give me AJ and just pissed in clear bottles.
Bro always was an ***hole. Probably why he's gone now.
/
Okay, ****, why is this derpbag calling me?
"Dave!"
John why the **** are you calling me? Didn't your boyfriend, like, ground you from this station?
"Ha ha! Karkat can't tell me what to do. I'm a free man!"
Yeah right. If freedom is tattooing the Cancer symbol across your ***, maybe. You wouldn't be free if you broke up with that romantic lover of the night and hung up buckets in every window and doorway to keep him away. Egderp, you are owned by that angry troll.
"Big talk from a guy who lets a clown cultist order him around."
Woah, that was one time and I thought we agreed to never talk about that again. I am enacting best bro code four-hundred-and-thirty-four all over your dorky ***. You do not talk about a bro's past flings on the radio. It is not done.
"Psssssh, alright. But I bet a certain someone wouldn't mind hearing-"
Bro code four-hundred-and-thirty-four, Egbert. You do not break the bro code.
*giggles*
I'm taking one from the cat's book. So long, John.
"Bye, Dave!"
*dead line*
/
Okay, so now that that highly personable and slightly violating segment is over, we can get back to doing what us Striders do best: making dramatic exits.
Goodbye, Sburb listeners. Good night.
*explosion*