I Am Trapped in the Ass End of a Hellish Excuse for a Gaming Convention
Hello everyone, and thank you for attending the 1:30 PM presentation of the new gaming technology being offered by my company, CrakSoft. We make awesome games that you can play from your PDA, games like “Go-Go Snakey,” where you attempt to move a snake around without hitting your own tail, and the blockbuster sequel “Go-Go Snakey Online,” a massively multiplayer version of the same.
We spent phenomenal amounts of money to join thousands of other companies at the 2001 Electronics Entertainment Expo here today, so much so that I would use the term “assloads” without embarrassment. I can say with almost complete certainty that every single penny was wasted, particularly the ten bucks that I spent to buy a side-salad at the concession stand.
Because, the fact is, that I am speaking to a single person. We have 35 chairs set up and a stage with a PA system here, and you, sir, are the only one who has bothered to attend the presentation at all today. Furthermore, you’re not even listening to me. You sat down because you look to be exhausted, and for the last ten minutes I’ve watched you staring at that hot chick on the poster in the booth across from ours, slackjawed and dreamy. Even as I speak, I am watching a small tendril of drool lower itself from the puddle in your mouth and crawl, like a swinging pendulum, ever-so-slowly toward the floor.
I suspect that a major problem is that we blew our entire wad of investment capital on a double-sized booth in the cheapest of possible E3 show floor locations, the lovely and spacious Kentia Hall. Kentia Hall is located alongside a parking garage. In fact, earlier I lifted up the carpet and noticed that beneath it was asphalt with white lines painted on it. Furthermore, our booth is situated on what was once a handicapped spot. But I digress.
Our booth, despite costing more money than a corporate jet, is for all intents and purposes located in a ghetto. Kentia Hall is crawling with beggars and the mamed. The presenter in the booth across from ours was recently attacked by bats. Just moments before I took the stage several youths wearing bandannas drove by in a forklift and started shooting at rival gang members. There are so many chalk outlines in the bathroom that they cease to be discernable as individuals.
I would like to change subjects once more and address the fact that it has now been 15 minutes and you haven’t taken your eyes off that hot chick on the poster, not even to blink. First of all, sir, I would point to the fact that there are real girls walking around the show floor, and many of them are paid just to touch you. Second of all, the image you are staring at is not possible within the physical laws of our universe. There is no center-tie or back to that bikini top – what could possibly be holding it to her body, short of paste? Her skull does not have enough surface area to explain the growth of so much hair. What is connecting the sword scabbords to her ass? And how is that dress staying on? Don’t you find the placement of the “flower” just a bit gratuitous? Hello? Sir? …. Hello? If I talk about my snakey will you listen?
Howabout if I stripped naked and pasted a paper towel over each of my nipples? Would that work out for us?
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