#fire and brimstone
Everybody always gives me shit for not wanting to leave my instrument unattended and are like “BuT wHo’S gOnNa StEaL a BaSs”
But what they’re never expecting is it actually happened to me once.
Waaaay back in middle school (7th grade), I didn’t have my own bass (who would give their kid an expensive and fragile instrument that they’re probably going to lose interest in??) and had to use a school owned bass. There were lots of us across all the grades (10-15 I think) and there were only 8 basses, so there were multiple people using each one.
So it’s concert night and we’re all crowded into this stupid little “multipurpose room”. I need to ask the teacher a question and I leave my bass with some friends, who were only paying half attention. I turn my back for LITERALLY 2 seconds to look the teacher in the eye. I mean what can go wrong in 2 seconds?
Well I turn around and go back and my bass is GONE.
My friends have NO IDEA where it went
Like how do you miss someone stealing a 5 and a half foot (it was a half size) tall instrument?!?! HOW?!
I see the eighth grader that also plays it and he doesn’t have it.
I didn’t start getting panic attacks until 8th grade, but OOOHHHH BOY WAS I CLOSE at that moment. I knew nothing but that I HAD TO FIND IT
So after several minutes of running around in general panic, I find it.
There is this guy. Sitting there all alone. Smiling. In a stupid little Santa hat. And lemme tell you, that innocent smiling face there with his CONTRABAND had me SEEING RED. Looks like nobody told me our bass had another user. And this asshole just up and steals it. Like he just saw it and went “Wonder how my bass got here, better swipe it all sneaky and such” Oh good lord I was so mad.
So obviously I march up there, grab the contraband, and just start SCREAMING at him.
And you know what he does? He’s being all POLITE. And SWEET. And NICE. And PLEASANT. While I’m screaming at him. And it’s PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF. He’s just like “Oh wow, I didn’t know I share this, I thought I was the only one, nice to meet you! :3″ (I swear to God he actually made that face) and I’m that GIF of angry flaming Hades from that Disney movie Hercules.
So after a good few minutes of trying to fucking KILL the personification of a cinnamon roll (Don’t worry, he’s fine, we later put our difference aside and like totally love each other), I finally return to my friends and was like “Jfc I’m never leaving my bass alone again, little bitch in a stupid Santa hat stole my fucking bass!”
And I kept my word.
Also I just now realized that if homeboy can steal a whole bass without anybody noticing, maybe I should take his threats of sneaking through my bedroom window and cutting off my ponytail a little more seriously.
But yeah, bass stealing happens and I’m not taking my chances.
As WRRRATH, Bloodlorde Vra'kriss Rakt'plyre, one of the living books in the enchanted Altalamatox Library.
The storybook characters who populate the Library include heroes, sidekicks, and comic relief… but Kriss is the only villain. He was the big bad boss at the end of a (cheesy) high fantasy novel. He had armies, monsters, and a blood pact with demons. He claimed the kingdoms of men for Evil and crushed all that was Good. He was ultimately stabbed to death by The Hero, some chosen peasant brat with great hair who found a magic sword or some annoying shit.
He spent some time after his death in a sort of purgatory before being unceremoniously tipped out of his book and into the real world. So the Kriss we know is a muted one, far more introspective, brooding, and even repentant than the warlord rampant portrayed in his tale. He feels this world is a new and very unexpected lease on life and is doing his damnedest to rewrite himself.
Kriss is generally affable BUT YOU MIGHT HAVE GUESSED has a temper THROUGH THE GODDAMNED ROOF. Often literally. The guy catches on FIRE when he’s pissed and unconsciously summons thunderstorms. As he tries to fit in with the team, which he honestly loves being a part of, his rage issues are his worst enemy. The other Librarians have him on a kind of probation, not sure if he’s really capable of changing his villainous ways, or if any of them will survive long enough to find out. If he can’t curb his flare ups, he’s gonna end up on the wrong side of a book burning.
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1966.
Ronald Reagan investigates sexual orgies, suggestive positions, and the thick smell of marijuana in the hall.
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