Join the new world

Well, when I say "I", I actually mean "everybody", considering all the times I've been around town I've seen everybody with their big storage buildings too. A lot of them are like me, just a few boxes of bread compared to the colossal size of the storage area. There were a few with about a dozen or so tanks being trigger happy, but I generally don't associate too well with those people anyway...


Look at those toast...So delicious, so real...

I usually had an organisation to hold all of my things, especially my house that I'm so fond of. Now that I had more storage space than Doraemon's pouch though, I wanted to move my house over. I did what came to me naturally: call up the free delivery company and ask them to bring my house over. You could have probably fitted about seven quality five houses in that storage if you had the money...

Skip ahead five minutes, the delivery company called me back saying they couldn't find my house. I thought they were playing a silly game with me, kind of like how our current governor is, but I went over to my organisation anyway and saw that my house was all there, intact and everything.

I pointed right at the house. I even poked it and smudged my beautiful windows, but the moving company looked at me as if I was dressed up in elaborately pink, frilly stockings along with a princess dress and an umbrella to match. I must point out at now that I am not a crossdresser and am male, which may be more evident by looking at my behavior. Nonetheless, the moving company couldn't even feel the house. Kind of expected considering they walked right through it...


Look! It's right over there! I'm telling you!

So now I'm sitting in my practically empty storage shed, listening to the sounds of ex-Romanians and South Koreans doing rap battles while I wait for the slightest hint of help from an omniscient being...

- A while later -

I've worked and trained beforehand, but Plato still isn't delivering my experience drink, saying that I haven't fulfilled the requirements when my adviser and training instructor state otherwise. Plato really is playing silly games with me... (I get my experience juice flavoured as chocolate milk. What about you?)