I Am Witless

The young man (who is unnamed but possibly recognizable) belched so loudly that it shook the chandeliers of the hall. His mom had told him that people in the Alleyverse got into duels all of the time, and that, because those duels were the centers of attention, one was more likely to be maimed, hurt, killed, or turned into a potted plant if one went near them. So he just drank as much rootbeer as he could and burped his favorite songs.

The spiders started un-sticking the young man, and he stopped singing. When he was finally free, the spiders climbed into hiding on the web/buffer suit. He strode over to the root beer bar and started chugging the different types so that he could rate the carbonation levels of the root beer through belching.

The young man continued to play his air guitar while stuck to the pillar.

The young man couldn't see what was going on from his position stuck to the back of the pillar, but he continued to call out encouragement. "Put 'em in an Iron Maiden! Kick 'em in the crotch! Blow them up!" His head started banging up and down, and then he started singing. "SOOOOOOOO understaaaaaaaaand, don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years. Face uuuuuup, make your staaaaaand and realize you're living in the golden years." He then fervently played riffs on an air guitar, a difficult thing to do when your arms are stuck to stone.

The spiders quickly webbed the young man in his shock suit to a pillar so that he wouldn't slip. "Beat 'em up!" He yelled.

The young man put his back to the wall and said "Enable websuit". His shirt fell apart, leaving him bare chested (which wasn't an altogether bad sight). The tattered remnants of his shirt split apart into what they actually were - small, colorful spiders that had acted like cremlings to form another object. A few of the ones from the armpit section were dead, but that was only expected. Quickly and efficiently, they climbed up the young man's body and started weaving a strong protective layer with their thread. It resembled a snowsuit, and could get hit by a car without the person inside being injured. That didn't mean that the young man had extra stength. He was just more likely to survive an attack, and waddled behind a pillar for good measure.

The spider stopped spinning it's web. It had been a good one, and the spider knew good from bad. She would have been able to get Klasten out eventually, but now he was gone. She wandered to the center of the web, tapped a few random threads, and disappeared in a zip of light.

The young man looked down at the floor. "Or maybe not. I'm sorry." He said before rushing over to the tables of food. He loaded up an empty salad bowl with as much as he could get, then wandered over to the wall. There was a little spider there, sitting patiently. "Prep to enable websuit. I want to survive this. And tell Mom that I got her a couple cans of root beer." The spider bobbed up and down in acknowledgment.

The young man who called himself Bro-Dude walked up to a random female character (I don't care who right now) and smiled winningly. "Would you like to dance?"

"You can call me Bro-Dude." The young man said, stopping and pulling an uninflated basketball from a back pocket. One of the mimes tossed him an invisible air-pumped, and the young man proceeded to pump up the basket ball. " 'cause I'm a bro, and I'm totally a dude." He shot the ball at a punchbowl, but missed by a good six feet. It hit one of the mimes.

The young man continued dancing, only paying vague attention to what was going on. He tried to beckon to other people to dance with him. A high heel-kick at the turn made his confidence wax even stronger.

The spider, which was female, couldn't roll over, didn't know how to sit, had a different definition of dangerous than Klasten (anything that could squish it), and actually wanted a fly, dodged around Ioc's foot. Then it went to one of the bottom corners and started spinning a large web.

The musicians started playing Cotton-Eye Joe, and the lanky young boy began dancing, long legs flying everywhere. Some poor NPC soul who had the right voice was forced to sing the repetitive lyrics over and over again. "If it hadn't been for cotton-eye Joe I'd been married long time ago Where did you come from. Where did you go? Where did you come from cotton-eye Joe?"

The spider stopped for a few minutes, then felt the minute vibratons of a message under its feet. It rappeled down the wall and scuttled up to Klasten, waving it's front sets of legs in the air.

A small spider sat in a high-up corner of the box, and idly plucked on it's web.

The young man sidled up to the musicians. Upon closer inspection of his hawaiian shirt, one could see that guinea pigs were mixed in among the pineapples and palm fronds. "Can you guys play Cotton-Eye Joe?"

As ponderous as tectonic plates, the gilt door opened. A young man in dress slacks and a Hawaiian shirt came through the door, grinning and trying to walk in a way as to make himself look more intense. He displayed no weapons but a self depricatingly cheesy smile and his hair spiked up.

A very small spider in a dark ceiling corner watched idly, and plucked on it's web in a pattern that only made sense to spiders. And one other. Morse code becomes so much more efficient when you have eight limbs instead of one finger. There was a web opposite of the original on the outside of the room, several threads running through a crack. This was connected to a whole network of threads running down the inside of the wall, which ran through the broad web of a funnel-weaving house spider that doubled as a networking center. Web after interconnected web, some the tangled mess of a Black Widow, others the single stabilizing line of a jumping spider. The message was repeated, echoes, and sent through the tunnels of bird-eating spiders, the strict webs of orb weavers, and finally received in a small copse on another world (accomplished by a realm-hopping spider whose thread transcended dimensions). In the woody clearing, a woman opened her eyes and watched a very large spider carefully tap-dance to the tune of spoken words. "So they're planning on releasing the guardian? And not Voidus......" Yzabet smiled as only a born trickster could. "Let's see what Voidus thinks about that."

Yzabet, who decided to play a part in the world for only a moment, checked the pulse of the man and then pulled out the stick. "Pallas, go get your emergency backpack." She looked out into the snow, then back at the Waystop. Home of fifteen years. Peace. "Why?" "We're leaving. Waystop has been a place of safety for years, but not any more for you and I." After a quick raiding of the larders, and without alerting anyone or letting them know of their intentions, Yzabet and Pallas disappeared the perpendicularity. Who knows where they will be seen next, or if they will at all? The snow is covering their footsteps, and so their last trace bids you farewell.

I also view him as at least slightly on the autism spectrum. Possibly aspergers. I'm always on the lookout for neuroatypical characters. Hopefully they will become more "popular" main characters, like good female heroes and people of color have.

Reviving this thread. Now that I'm here at BYUI I've met two Sanderfans, but I'd love to find more to join me in my obsession build connections and become student leaders through our examples to others, because that is a thing here at BYUI. For some reason I can't take myself seriously when I say that. Together we can do amazing things if we don't spend our time trying to become popsicles. We'll probably become popsicles anyway because it's Rexburg.

*Yzabet makes breakfast* *Yzabet helps strip corpses*

Welcome, @redshadow310! Have a free upvote, a cookie, and a penguin! What has been your favorite part to lurk in?