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He’s written a personal email address on the back of a napkin and has hidden it… somewhere in the known universe. Find it & send him an email, and you and your friend will join him for a special Skype tea party. He’ll even show you how to make the perfect cup of tea!
Party Poison woke up sprawled on the ground, unsure of how he’d gotten there. This in itself was not unusual. His head pounded, eyes shut tight against the blazing sun, and his mouth was cotton- no, there was sand in his mouth. He twisted his head around, wincing at a shot of pain up his neck, and spit as much as he could muster the saliva for.
A dark shadow fell on him, and Party squinted up at the tall figure that was making it possible for him to actually open his eyes without his brain exploding.
The first thing he noticed was the Hawaiian shirt. It was bright, garish, and one of the ugliest things aesthetically that Party Poison had seen in a long time.
He wanted it desperately.
The next thing he noticed was the generations-old droid that the Hawaiian shirt was on. It looked down at him with what could only be described as great indifference. As far as shepherds to the next life, because Party had to be dying he felt so shitty, this was not exactly what he’d been expecting.
“Hey,” the droid said, sounding like they need to chug at least 3 gallons of oil.
“Uh, hey,” Party responded. His voice didn’t sound too great either, and he winced at the volume of it in his own ears. “Who exactly are you?”
The droid didn’t have eyes, but rolled them nonetheless. And realization hit Party like a ton of bricks.
“You always sound so disappointed.” Destroya sighed. “Listen, I know I’m not what you expect, but no one ever is, kid. No one ever is.”
With a massive creak that sent more pain through Party’s spine, Destroya sat down in the sand next to Party. They took a can out of their shorts pocket, brushed sand off the top, and cracked the tab. Party watched, unable and unwilling to move.
“I guess I just didn’t expect to meet you when I died.” Party explained.
“Oh you won’t,” Destroya responded.
“Yeah you’re not dying,” they explained, taking a sip from their can. “You’re just having a bad trip.” There was a sound like an engine struggling to start, and Party realized it was Destroya laughing. “Nah kid, you’ll know who comes for you when you die. No mistaking her.”
“So am I just hallucinating this then?” Party asked, not entirely sure what he wanted the answer to be. Destroya shrugged.
“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I stopped by to say D.A.R.E to say no to drugs or whatever, or maybe I’m bored, or maybe I wanted to steal your beer while you were too stoned to move.”
Another exhaust pipe sigh.
“Either way, I’ve gotta get going. Your crew is almost here, by the way,” Destroya stood, dusted off their cargo shorts. They took a step, then paused. “And they’re never going to believe you.”
Honestly, this is beautiful. They’ve had series lows for three weeks straight and this week they almost fell under 800k. They’re not even close to the million viewers anymore. At this rate, the thirteen Blarkes are literally the only people who will be watching S5.