Wonderfuldildostatuecastleville Update Two

It's now that time of year where the bank is filled to the brim with anti-depressant demand letters. Well just happens that sort of stuff really doesn't exist in Die2nite. So really the game is just saying "deal with it". Result? We have people dropping dead faster than rocket launched turds. And yes, no one cares about the mascot Toast!

Hope had almost been abandoned here at the Mud Wrestling Motel of Slaves. You couldn't walk a meter before a crazy rambling drunk citizen grabbed you by the collar and started yelling "Where the hell is our blueprint?!". Soon the morale raising thread "What the hell do we do now..." appropriately found its way onto our rather shambled forums. 

Special mention however has to go to our boy Baker of Cl*rks, never to be seen not rambling about meat lockering the fabled "mum47" or hanging "mum47" or at least doing something to "mum47". In fact, in a flash our alcohol and drugs had disappeared and the gallows miraculously built! Yes, this man really takes matters into his own hands! 

So after taking down notes, suspecting each other of treason, drawing up map outlines, cross referencing  information, running around frothing at the mouth mumbling "blooooprint" and being rather jealous of P-Tits locked love shack, complete with charged dildo and doormat for wiping your privates: 

Imirk casually walks in, hits that shit on the table and announces "Bitchez, it's all good, I got yo junk"

And still we need to hear reports of where this superhero actually found the damn thing?! Although yes, most likely he materialized it from pure sand with his god-like fists of fury.

Celebrations lasted around 10 minutes. Surprisingly no one got drunk, no one announced a naked fun-run and we were back to frothing at the mouth, now mumbling "human flesh"... 

Yes, in conclusion we still look like this sucker right here 

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"I'm down like shit on shoes baby!"

News on the street is there is another trippy scout rampage being planned by our now dead and limbo-ing Meat Locker loggers. Could this be the glorious future?! All we know is... George is sure down.