Upload, Season 2 – Antics Beyond the Grave

Through the Idiot Glass Disclaimer: There will be spoilers. If you’re even remotely interested in this show and you haven’t yet seen it, or if you’ll be mad if you accidentally read any possible spoilers about it, I’m going to chalk it up to “not my fucking problem”. You have been warned.
Discussion Subject: Upload, Season 2 (2022) (Amazon Prime)
Previous Seasons
Season 1

Upload, Season 2
Season 2 of the best show on TV about people who pay to upload their consciousnesses to the internet after they die in order to carry on in some sort of digital afterlife! Second to none!

The Premise

See Upload Season 1 write-up for the basic premise. Season 2 focuses on Nathan (Robbie Amell) and Nora (Andy Allo) drifting apart following the relationship uncertainty at the end of the last season. Nora ends up disappearing off the grid to join a clan of Luddites in the woods while Ingrid (Allegra Edwards) strengthens her bond with Nathan… by pretending to be dead and uploaded.

More pieces of Nathan’s murder mystery fall into place, but that stuff isn’t terribly interesting to me!

Upload, Season 2

The pornography on this thing is simply captivating!

My Half-Baked Thoughts

This season started out very slowly. The end of Season 1 had Nora tell Nathan that she loved him, with Nathan unable to respond after all 2gb of his data was used up during his stay at a, ahem, less lavish afterlife locale. In the month that he spent frozen, Nora moved on. Eventually, being a target, she and her dad decided to play it safe and hide out in the woods with a group of technology-hating Luddite semi-terrorists, where she meets some douchebag named Matteo. They eventually have her act as a plant within Horizen in order to carry out some of the Luddites’ plans to take down the Lakeview afterlife facility (where all the shitty rich people are). Once Nora gets back into Horizen — and gets a promotion and a legitimate reason to stay there beyond sabotage reasons — her side of the story gets back to being interesting again, but never to the heights of Season 1.

Upload, Season 2

I hope these baby blankets we stole from the maternity ward will be perfect disguises during our getaway.

Nathan’s side of the story contains a lot of needless dicking around, with most of the focus on Ingrid deciding to fake it as an Upload. I found her arc unbelievable which, in a show about dead people’s consciousnesses transferred to hard drives so they can eat maple bacon donuts, is saying quite a bit. It just goes to show how rock-bottom Ingrid’s self-esteem really is to spend most of her waking hours squirming around a tub with a VR suit just for a dead guy. I wouldn’t do it for any dead guy in the world!

The season, while enjoyable enough, was unfocused. Like my blog posts! I’ve made that joke millions of times! I don’t think the murder intrigue is all that compelling, and every time they decided to circle back to fitting more pieces of the puzzle together I couldn’t help but think of shitty police procedurals. I don’t care who killed Nathan or why. I don’t care why David Choak continues to invest himself in the goings-on of the living world and why he might want to kill Nathan’s app business. Who cares, who cares. What this season did right was focus more attention on Luke, the army veteran who got his legs blown off in (I think) the Gulf War. He has legs now, of course! He dances and jitterbugs all over Lakeview!

Upload, Season 2

The food is so bad all the color has drained out of my cheeks!

Here’s what I especially think sucks. The whole temporary Nathan/Nora emotional break-up is fine and understandable, but I don’t think they needed to throw other monkey wrenches into the mix. I liked it better when Ingrid was controlling Nathan’s “life” from her position as a definitely-not-faking-dead alive woman. Now that she’s literally there in the afterlife for most of her day, it sets up an unneeded extra barrier between Nathan and Nora. They already have a barrier! A literal barrier! They don’t need another barrier! And what’s the deal with that woman, Tinsley, who seems to be falling for Nathan as well! We don’t need another barrier on top of the other barrier that’s already superfluous to the original barrier! That’s what made Nathan and Nora’s relationship is Season 1 so much more compelling, that a person was falling in love with an Upload and that had a lot of logistical and ethical ramifications. Now it’s like “everyone is in love with an Upload”. Diminishing returns! Watering down! Help! Help!

Upload, Season 2

Future technology will allow you to carry the shrieking remains of your loved ones around your neck.

Tinsley is going to be key in Season 3 for a couple of reasons. 1) Tinsley is falling in love with Nathan, and there’s going to be a big love pentagon between her, Nathan, Nora, Ingrid, and Matteo. And let me tell you: Matteo and Nathan are gonna start fuckin’. 2) Tinsley felt bad for the poor treatment of the AI, so she gave it a hug to make it feel better. At the end of the season, the AI decided to give Ingrid a hug to make her feel better. Tinsley is going to be the catalyst that creates sentience within the AI system, allowing it to take over Lakeview and the Uploads and conquer the living world! Wouldn’t that be something?

I don’t have much more to say about Season 2, so we can wrap it up quickly.

Worth the Watch?

Season 2 is only 7 episodes, you can finish it in an evening. Just watch the damn thing.

Upload, Season 2

Watch it on the toilet. I don’t care.


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Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15 – “It’s Raining Men”

* Standalone issue *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15 – “It’s Raining Men”! It’s a standalone issue, but I’ll talk about the previous storyline anyway. Previously, Jessica Jones was on a missing girl case in a podunk town. The missing girl in question ran away from home because she was too doggoned liberal for her shitty, racist, hick town. In the end, the girl’s dad gets stabbed and her possibly adult girlfriend picks her up to run away again.

Now that that unpleasantness is over, let’s see what all this raining men is about.

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #14 [January, 2003]
Written by: Brian Michael Bendis
“It’s Raining Men”

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15

“Mr. Murdock is expecting you.”

“Oh.”

Jessica Jones shuffles down the hallways of the Law Offices of Nelson and Murdock and sits down outside Matty’s office reading Vogue magazine. As a woman walks into his office, the bodyguard by the door says “Hey, Babe.” Well, after about 506 silent panels, Jones just cannot let that one go! Isn’t he supposed to be bodyguarding? “We’re just letting strange women walk right into Matt’s office?”

Well, lady. That was no ordinary strange woman! This was a special strange woman. You might have heard of her? Natasha Romanov? The Black Widow? Scarlett Johansson? Ring a bell? Lost in Translation with Bill Murray? Wake up.

Whatever! Jones is of the opinion that the guard still should have stopped her. The guard with his sunglasses indoors and his exposed pecs.

So I don’t know what’s going on. Here’s an exchange between the two:

“I don’t understand you,” says the bodyguard. “Why’d you take this job if you’re so fucking pissed at me?”

“Clearly, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“You fucked me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. You – fucked – me.”

Ah, it’s Luke Cage. I see now. She did fuck him. That did happen.

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15

Whoa, sir. We keep it classy here at the Law Offices of Fatso and Blind Guy.

“I was drunk.”

That’s always why she fucks anyone, it seems. Cage lays it all out on the table, obviously he’s been thinking about getting this off his well-oiled chest for months. She came to him when she needed someone. He helped. She was ungrateful.

Then a moment of silence.

“And who was that in your apartment that night when I came by?” Jones asks.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks back.

Jones makes a face. “What? No!

“You don’t want to be my girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“Hell, no!”

“Then it’s none of your fucking business who was in my bed.”

It seems that this is what the whole issue is going to be about. Airing dirty laundry in the hallway of an office building. Jones calls Cage a “cape chaser”. Do you have a fetish or something, my man? You even fucked She-Hulk? She smells like pickles!

Cage defends himself. If he was a lawyer, he’d be fucking a lot of lawyers probably, right? So, he’s in the superhero business. He fucks a lot of superheroes. What of it?

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15

I hope to get Iron Fisted someday.

Cage concludes his rant by informing Jones that she’s angry at herself, not him. So cork it. Jones apologizes and then thanks him for that one night.

“Hey, do you think it’s true?” she asks.

“What?”

“The shit with Matt being Daredevil?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Huh. So then he heard this whole conversation we just had.”

“Hmmm… guess so.”

Cage then asks Jones out, but she’s got plans. Probably with Ant-Man. She and Ant-Man are gonna bone with his tiny little ant penis. But enough of that for now, it’s Jones’ turn to walk into Matt Murdock’s office! Finally, we’re gonna get to the meat and potatoes of Issue #15!

Oh wait, no, we jump right to Jones’ date with Ant-Man. Fuck.

I now find out that Jones, too, was bodyguarding Matt Murdock’s office for some reason. Maybe because Luke Cage isn’t man enough. She apologizes to Scottie Lang for being late as she was helping the blind guy do his job.

“Is he really Daredevil?” Lang asks.

“Does it matter?”

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15

I lied about raping E. Jean Carroll so I had to owe the courts 83 million dollars.

Jones orders a double vodka on the rocks, but Lang stops her. “I was hoping we could not drink tonight,” he says, then orders himself a Coke. Jones is too stunned to rebut, so she orders a Sprite.

Lang knows Jones’ reputation of getting really drunk and then hating herself! So, maybe this first date could instead have a lot of not that. Sound good? No? Are you mad? You’re mad, aren’t you? Please don’t be mad. He’ll show you his little ant penis…

Jones isn’t mad, she’s just stunned is all. Lang apologizes and insists that she should order a drink if she wants to; he overstepped. She says it’s ok. She’ll stay sober for once in her life.

“So…” Jones breaks the ice a bit here. “You were in prison?”

This is met with silence, of course. “I think I need a drink,” he says. This is all very humorous, isn’t it?

“I was young. I did something insanely stupid. And I paid the price for it.”

“Rehabilitated, are you?”

“I left a better person than when I went in and I never went back. And I never will.”

Jones feels ashamed for even bringing it up. This date is going super well so far. Maybe Hitler can rollerblade into the scene and kill some Jews in front of them while they’re at it.

Then they kind of make light of the situation. Jones says she’ll do even more backround checks on him. He says, yeah man, you’ll see a bunch of shit about my divorce! Jones loves divorced men, they’re so eager to please!

Lang takes a pause and wonders out loud why Carol Danvers thought to set the two of them up. Jones figures that he looks like the kind of man that she would sleep with. He takes this as a fun compliment! Hell, she probably would’ve gone out with him herself if he didn’t go to prison once! LOL!

Alias (Vol. 1), Issue #15

No, it’s cool. I love remembering being raped all the time. Nice compliment.

Scott Lang isn’t liking what he’s hearing again, but he gives her the benefit of the doubt. She tells it like it is, after all. No filter. Always an admirable quality.

By the time the waitress brings drinks, Jones and Lang are talking about his daughter. “I think I might make a good mom,” Jones says even though nothing in the last 14 issues has given me evidence for this claim.

Lang tells Jones that she’s fascinated by her current line of work. She shrugs that off, which makes him grumble “I hate dating” out loud. Again, these two are scoring major points here.

He rambles about how fucked up it must be to date a superhero. And how a superhero must feel dating a non-superhero. How can they be trusted? Etc.

“You’re the first person I’ve met in ten years who hasn’t asked me why I wasn’t a superhero anymore,” Jones says.

“Well… you’re the first person I have met in ten years who hasn’t asked me why I was a superhero.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Then he’s about to ask her why she isn’t a superhero anymore when suddenly they see Doctor Octopus outside the restaurant crushing Jones’ taxi with his metal tentacle. Spider-Man is in tow. Jones and Lang watch as they both rampage down the street.

“You — uh – you want to go help?” Jones asks.

“I didn’t bring any of my Ant-Man stuff. Do you want to go?”

“Mmmmmmmm… nah. They got it. And I really – I don’t do that anymore.”

More silence. Then Jones thanks Lang for stopping her from drinking tonight. “I guess I kind of needed someone to do that for me.”

Outside the restaurant is a twisted mess of destroyed cars and confused, scared people running around.

“I don’t think our waitress is coming back.”

Final Thoughts

Jessica Jones is going to get drunk anyway and bone Ant-Man and get pregnant with his little Ant-Babies.

The thing about Jessica Jones is that they don’t really show her investigative abilities. We see her trying to find clues and then we see her get nowhere, and then, suddenly, at the beginning of the next issue, she has already found the person for no reason and the case gets wrapped up. It’s almost like Brian Michael Bendis doesn’t actually know how to write detective fiction! Go figure.


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My Dumb Patti Smith Dream

Patti Smith is ready to take you under her wing!

It’s hard to break out in Los Angeles. Fresh-faced young folk flock to the City of Angels from the likes of Isleton, California, or Sutter Creek, California, or possibly even Carmel-by-the-Fuckin’-Sea, California. Everywhere else in the state, too, even. Possibly the rest of the country, but I’ll need to check my sources. All these bright, doe-eyed youth have the exact same single thought in their heads: “I’m going to be the biggest fucking star this city has ever seen!” After all, all you need to become the next breakout talent in Hollywood is to 1) move out of your shithole town where your best friends Kyle and other Kyle still work at Uncle Tuggy’s Quarry Supplies Surplus, 2) already have over $10,000 in your bank account to cover six months of living expenses, 3) have a job lined up waiting tables at the P. Diddy House of Sex Party Pancakes, 3) collect a stack of professional headshots where you’re wearing your best Saturday Night Live T-shirt, 4) line up a series of acting classes led by seasoned celebrity Professor Uncle Joey from Full House, 5) register for costly audition submission websites, 5) collect a group of friends to expensively write, produce, and act in experimental independent art films about semen dripping delicately from half-flaccid penises, 6) network with casting directors, haggard podcast hosts, and grumpy uninterested talent agencies, and 7) suck the right genitals to get a spot as an extra on CSI: Papua New Guinea. It honestly couldn’t be more simple!

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I think of the Los Angeles acting scene, the very FIRST person I think about is bohemian New York punk beat poet Patti Smith. After all, nobody is more respected by the entire production crew of America’s Top Model Season 43 than a woman who has done more endeavors of artistry while eating breakfast this morning than I have ever done in 3+ years of pretending to be any kind of humorist at all, let alone a successful one. In spite of this, my brain decided for a night’s dream that Patti Smith would be a suitable mentor to me for my path to stardom. She was, in fact, proud to be considered by me to be a “mom-figure”. I wish I was fucking kidding.

Patti Smith has a lot of respect for dime-a-dozen actors in incredibly minor non-speaking roles!

Before all that, let’s get into what kicked things off in Dreamworld. If I had to guess, I was initially in Los Angeles to make money busking. This is based on the fact that I was carrying an oversized saxophone around. Hey, now that I think about it, busking is exactly the kind of situation that Patti Smith could relate with! Maybe that’s why my brain was keeping her in the inner recesses of my subconscious while the scene suddenly shifted to me playing a lion in some sort of live-action Lion King knockoff starring Martin Sheen. I was definitely not a top-billed credit in the cast for this. As I recall, I was prowling around like a overstuffed child sex offender among a dozen other lions in a location that can only be best described as the Macalania Forest from Final Fantasy X. And it didn’t matter if I was with a dozen other lions. It didn’t matter if I was with a million other lions, because Patti Smith (the woman who co-wrote “Because the Night” with Bruce Springsteen in 1977) was so impressed by my performance consisting entirely of rutting around and grunting that she singled me out as the hottest new talent to take under her wing. Patti Smith did this.

What happens next is pretty hazy mostly because it’s more asinine than a screen door on a butthole, but I quickly fell out of Patti Smith’s good graces after telling her QUITE STUPIDLY that I needed to continue pursuing my career in engineering before I can try making it big in Los Angeles. This upset her greatly, as if higher learning was a completely laughable enterprise. I mean, it is, but she didn’t have to be a jerk about it.

At this point I was attending an afterparty which was nothing more than a fucking high school cafeteria where celebrities like (I’m not kidding) Ed Asner and Ted Danson were rubbing elbows. There was a Cheers marathon on late the previous night, so that explains the Danson. The Asner I’m not sure, but maybe my brain was trying to sex up the dream a little bit! Everything at this point played out like high school cliques isolating themselves while Patti Smith deliberately stopped acknowledging my existence; going so far as to acknowledging my existence by pretending I don’t exist by purposely avoiding eye contact with me while she flashed Morse code across the cafeteria with a hanging chad to her other Hollywood buddies. Needless to say, I was livid and embarrassed. My whole career was getting flushed down the tubes because I lost the Patti Smith endorsement within milliseconds because I was dumb enough to bring up college.

I woke up the next morning completely disoriented and bewildered. I felt like a piece of me was missing, like I was grieving the loss of an opportunity that never was. Most of all, I wondered where my saxophone went.


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Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6 – “Dark Moon Rising (Part 6)”

* Part 6 of 6 of the Batman and the Mad Monk limited series *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6 – “Dark Moon Rising (Part 6)”! In the previous installment, Batman escapes the Rallstone Death Castle and gets extremely fucking wounded in the process. Instead of staying away from the Murder Mansion, he decides to return in order to save a girlfriend he’ll have for another three weeks from a Brotherhood of Feral Vampires.

We’re wrapping up the Mad Monk limited series. It’s been a fun ride! Next I’ll tackle Batman and the Anime Convention Orgy.

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6 [March, 2007]
Written by: Matt Wagner
“Dark Moon Rising (Part 6)”

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6

lol look at the cover. Niccolai with his spear and spiked mace. Batman with a fucking shield. This is going to be stupid and I love it.

Julie is scared and screaming like a dingus. Suddenly, she’s not so tired. Suddenly, she doesn’t feel so drugged. Suddenly, she’s awake and aware and oh god the humanity. “Let me go!!” she yells to deaf ears. “What do you want?”

Look, dear. They want your blood. Sorry if that offends you.

It’s at this point that Batman decides to crash his car through a motherfucking wall, scaring a great deal of the Brotherhood and perplexing the Mad Monk to no end. Dala thinks it’s part of the sacrifice. Like a mid-meal show or something, but Niccolai is like “you’re really dumb.”

Batman shoots some weird poison gas out of his car to help “thin out their numbers.” Then he leaps out the roof, providing a decent view of his crotch, and starts roundhouse kicking some red-robed butt. Of course, the Monk is conspicuously dressed, so Batman singles him out almost immediately. He’s the one who looks like Moltar from Space Ghost.

Mad Monk gets nervous! “This… intruder if the very downfall of which I had warned!!” he yelps. “Tear out his throat as you would any cattle! Prove yourselves worthy of my gifts!”

Yeah right. The Brotherhood is riddled with Boomers, basically, and Batman is able to punch these old losers with nothing but the most robust of gusto. Batman even comments upon their sniveling loser-dom. Bunch of perverted nerds, the whole lot.

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6

New phone who dis?

In short, Batman takes down about 400 people without even huffing and puffing. Julie starts screaming for his attention, and I can’t believe he didn’t already notice her. The woman chained to a cross, the centerpiece of the room. He throws silver batarangs at the Monk (embedded in the wrist) and Dala (embedded in her chest), and then blames the Monk for the injuries! Ha! I like that.

Noticing that the Mad Monk isn’t affected by the silver (which is really going to piss off Alfred; Batman wasted those candlesticks for naught!), Batman rushes toward him to give him the ol’ one-two-buckle-my-shoe, but then gets kicked in the ribs. This guy is fast! Like the opposite of a snail, whatever that animal may be.

The kick was so forceful that it sends Batman flying into Julie, splintering the wood she’s chained to and setting her free. His stitches bust open, so that’s a lmao. He’s bleeding all over the place again. But no time for self-care, the Mad Monk is on the run! Julie seems ok, so he leaves her hacking and coughing on the cold floor as he follows the running vampire.

Meanwhile, the sweating, beady-eyed Norman Madison hides behind a column in a parking garage, gun at the ready. He’s going to wait until Maroni and his cronies come down the elevator so that he can murder them in public, thereby severing his ties with the mob forever and living happily ever after!

“MARONI! IT’S OVER! Say whatever prayers you can recall…”

Then Norman fires three rounds that miss Maroni and his men by about 89 nautical miles. Needless to say, Norman gets killed by the still-living goons. It’s really sad, maybe. To somebody. I don’t care much, personally. Norman Madison was a shitty character to say the least!

Maroni is like “I thought it might have been one of Falcone’s guys, but it’s just some drunk homeless guy or something” and moves on with his day.

Batman has lost the Mad Monk’s trail and is now wandering aimlessly through the maze of the castle’s underground tunnels. Again. His underwear is soaked in blood, but he presses on until he finds his culprit in a room full of medieval weaponry. Some real Legend of Zelda shit. They each grab weapons and duke it out, son.

Batman notices that the Mad Monk maintains his springy agility while Batman himself is a bumbling sack of garbage.

Further injury is sustained.

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6

You’re such a whiner.

Batman grabs a shield and hits the Mad Monk with it, stymieing him for precious seconds before he takes off in the other direction again. Batman gives chase, gasping and panting and dying of exsanguination before our very eyes.

They both end up on the roof, and it’s pouring rain. Batman takes note of the steepness of the roof and the slippery tiles! These will prove to either be advantageous or disastrous! Mad Monk starts talking a big game about his immortality, telling Batman that people like him have been trying to thwart him for centuries! Batman calls him “Richard Rallstone”, which takes the Mad Monk aback for a blink of an eye. Then he basically says “nuh-uh.”

As Mad Monk raises his spear, intending to impale the Bat-Man once and for all, he gets struck by lightning! And he dies! There’s nothing ironic or poetic about this justice at all. Batman didn’t do a thing! Before he bleeds out completely, he runs back down to the basement to go find Julie. She is currently being threatened by Dala, who is pulling her hair and waving a knife around with reckless abandon.

Batman and the Mad Monk, Issue #6

Damn. Get a hobby, lady. Jesus.

Luckily for Julie, there’s a large piece of splintered wood right in front of her. Quick as a sultry fox, she whips it around behind her and clocks Dala right in the mug. Somewhere along the line the room was set afire, somehow, and Julie starts choking in the smoke. Before she dies to death, Batman takes her by the arm and plows through a fucking window. The illustration looks like he used her head to break the glass, which I find charming!

Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation time! Julie’s heart is barely beating, her breathing stopped. Bruce takes off his cowl so that she can see a familiar face and a familiar crooning, silky, baritone voice. Like Nick Cave. She wakes up slowly and notices that Bruce Wayne, the Bruce Wayne, is in a Batman uniform! She’s startled and confused and Bruce kinda feels bad about it. He apologizes for all the deception while she freaks the fuck out.

To further add fuel to her freak-out fire, she remembers that her dad was being weird to her while she was still drugged up on vamp juice. Batman promises that no harm will come to him (lol).

Epilogue already? Ha, whatever. Julie has left Gotham for good and joined the Peace Corps. She pens a letter to Bruce noting that she pinpointed the reason for her father’s weird behavior from his journal entries: he was afraid of Batman. So, good going. Anyway, she’s protecting the people of this small African settlement in the same way that Bruce protects Gotham City. “There is a part of me that will always love you, Bruce. But that part all but died along with my father.” So, again, eat shit.

Batman sinks into a depressive bout of introspection. His stupid Batman crusade keeps hurting people, but he won’t stop. He’ll try to not hurt people in the future, though. He’ll try really hard!

Oh yeah, and Jim Gordon found a warehouse full of poisoned bodies. Maybe that’s linked to the missing heroin. What a pointless secondary plot point that didn’t need to be introduced and went nowhere.

Show’s over, folks.

Final Thoughts

This story is not as good as many would lead you to believe. I, for one, thought it was a pile of Grade A Prime Boloney!

But you can do much worse than Batman. Superman, for example. Blech.

I just found out, too, that I was supposed to read this one after Batman and the Monster Men, so whoops! Don’t bother clicking that link yet, I probably haven’t gotten to it. Unless I did get to it, then by all means. Just click any link you see around here, honestly. Something good will likely happen! Not a guarantee.


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The Death Knight’s Squire, Chapter 2 – Lord and Lady Brewmont

Dungeons & Dragons is the world’s most famous tabletop role-playing game. There are elves and dice and dungeon masters who wear capes. I’m embarrassed for even playing this.

Disclaimer: I’m learning as I go. There is a 100% chance that I’ll fuck up, not take something seriously enough, and piss you off to no end. Get over it.

Orlbar: Where frightening-looking buildings covered in giant scythes loom over stinky huts made of hay and sticks.

Welcome to Dungeons & Dragons – The Death Knight’s Squire! Last time we learned about our hero, Milhouse the Scholar, an elven nerd from whatever village elven nerds hail from. Today we kick off our adventure proper. I think. Don’t quote me on this.

There are about three pages of backstory regarding Milhouse’s arrival to Orlbar, which is my favorite candy. It’s a snowy town at the foot of the Greypeak Mountains. But what brought Milhouse here, you ask? The prospects of GOLD, son. Rumors abound of a large horde of treasure in a goblin keep! After entering Orlbar, Milhouse visits a tavern where he gets shitty on hot mulled wine while scarfing down some bread and cheese. Then he travels to a nearby inn where he kicks off his little elf boots and settles down for the night. Oh, it feels so good to have a roof over one’s head after many days of sleeping in brambles and getting endlessly attacked by wolves.

There are the sounds of a woman sobbing in the next room and it has nothing to do with sex. Tired of hearing this cacophony of blubbering, Milhouse decides to get out of bed and knock on the door of the adjacent room. An old man dressed in noble clothes answers the door; the sobbing woman wears equally flamboyant clothing. The man has a black eye, which means he must have fallen down the stairs! Milhouse puffs out his chest and asks if EVERYTHING IS OK IN THERE. The nobles look at the disheveled, unkempt Milhouse as if he were a terrible smear of poop under their noses. Finally, the woman lets Milhouse in.

Pictured: Lord and Lady Brewmont.

The couple are Lord and Lady Brewmont. They arrived in Orlbar for a little vacation at the Holiday Inn Express with their grandson, whom they call “son” (I’ll call him Chauncey). On their way, a mysterious knight accosted the two on the road and he cold-cocked Lord Brewmont right in the ol’ eyeball. “Then he grabbed our boy, threw him on a horse and bolted! Without a word!” Milhouse takes his finger and presses it against Lord Brewmont’s lips. “Shhhh…” he says gently. “Did he seem familiar, this knight?” he asks unhelpfully. Lord Elric Brewmont is like “LOOK, MAN, I KNOW I LOOK RICH AS SHIT. THAT’S BECAUSE I AM RICH AS SHIT. I’M FAMOUS ‘ROUND THESE PARTS, SOME ASSHOLE SAW HIS OPPORTUNITY AND NOW MY GRANDSON/SON IS BEING HELD FOR RANSOM IN SOME HOLE. I GET IT.” Chauncey is actually named Darek, and now he’s gone! Ripped right out their tight little hands! It’s madness!

Milhouse arches an eyebrow and asks, ok, what did they do about it? Well, the Brewmonts went straight to the Captain of the Guard in Orlbar, but he turned out to be quite the incompetent piece of shit. He did nothing but swill some beer and fuck a girl’s butt right in front of all of them. It was unseemly. Then he said something along the lines of “The knight was a ghost and he wanted to pick a fresh squire.” Malarkey, eh? “They say the knight lives in the wood nearby,” says Lady Brewmont. “Weathercote Wood.”

Lord Elric Brewmont isn’t even listening. He’s so fuming mad about all this that he picks up his Xbox and throws it out of the window. He promises to find this knight and slap him silly with a leather glove. Young elven Milhouse looks Lord Brewmont up and down. This dude is pushing 940 and couldn’t lift a plate of tasty haggis to save his life. No matter. Wealthy is wealthy, and if these rich white people are missing their son then surely they’ll cough up a great reward for the return of the poor little nerd. “I can find your boy,” Milhouse says with hearty conviction.

The couple offers Milhouse 2000 gold pieces for the return of Darek. Milhouse accepts the offer with gusto.

And the journey begins! Next time, of course! Next time!


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