Then it hit me. After reading the news post on the Shugashack regarding the woman who was banned from Everquest due to writing an "offensive" piece of fan fiction, an idea popped into my mind... one that would surely get my money back from Sony. I would hunt down Gordon Wrinn and hit him in the face with a cinder block! Then I thought of an even better idea - if I could write fan fiction that was offensive enough to Verant / Sony / Everquest, hopefully they'd ban my account and I would never have to worry about paying nearly $10 a month for something I never play! With this in mind, may I present to you my Everquest fan fiction story, "The Legend of Brad and Gordon: Two Haunted Evil Trolls Who Would Probably Beat Handicapped Children if They Had the Opportunity."
CHAPTER ONE - JUST DESERTS!
It was a dark night in Freeport when Brad and Gordon made their trek across the Oasis. It was in fact so dark that many citizens were using EQ Macros Nightscope or the EQ Macros On-Screen Map to properly navigate around Norrath. However, the two infamous trolls Brad and Gordon, who were very fat and dumb and stupid and fat and ugly and stupid and fat and dumb and smelly and stupid and ugly, shunned these useful applications and decided instead to waddle through Oasis like the fat mongoloids they were.
"Duh, hey Brad, how come we been walkin' for 50 minutes but we aint got to Freeport yet?" asked Gordon while taking a moment to attend to a particularly important itch on his rear end.
"I dunno, Gordon! My intelligence is very low an I cant figure it out cuz I'm so dumb just lik in real life!" Soon Brad looked up into the sky and realized something. "Hey Gordon! We've been running face-first into a large rock for the past hour or so! No wonder we haven't been getting anywhere!"
Gordon stopped walking in place and turned to face what he thought was Brad, but was actually a specter. "Brad, I don't like it here! It's creepy an I can't see nothin' and all I've been doing is talkin to you an I don't know where I am!"
Brad started rotating around 360 degrees while somehow never picking up his feet from the ground. "But Gordon, were being SOCIAL! Being lost and SOCIAL is what the land of Norrath is all about!"
Suddenly the specter turned and killed both of them with one mighty swing of its scepter.
"Oh good, we died, that's the other thing Norrath is all about," Brad muttered while looking at his body from a camera hovering above his fresh corpse.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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