Hello. My name is Jamal Squilliams, and I go deep. Now you, dear reader, might look at the reviews and counter-reviews below you and think "Huh, this is pretty interesting. Seems this Gossamer lady runs a pretty intense site to get people so worked up." I too was one of those brave intrepid souls who decided to penetrate her veil of lies. My story begins in 2010, when I join Mizahar with my totally original gay lesbian vampire named Tony. Naturally, when I go in Chat she gets jealous of my PC's hotness because of course she does, she's so gorgeous that when girls see her she's sexy like a man to them and they also become gay lesbians. Anyways, I was just telling her how unprofessional it was to get jealous at my gay sexiness and told her to please calm down Miss Gossamer, it's unprofessional to get lesbian hard over other peoples characters and get mad at them, and I would like some respect please and can I start with a bigger house because Tony is a 300 year old heiress to the Gothschilde fortune? Naturally, she goes off and wraps her prehensile tongue (all nazi mods have one) around me and is about to kick me out when I see a hastily scrawled private whisper from a certain "Tarot" containing an address in London and the words "THE TRUTH MUST COME OUT." in red caps. In that instant, I knew something more sinister than the mere oppression of innocent beautiful young people was going on. I had to thrust deeper into this quivering web of sin. I wrote my coworkers a note telling them that I'd been eaten by grues, and then I took the first flight I could to London. It was raining when I arrived, and everyone around me was the same pasty white, with dull, downcast eyes. In the depths of my soul, as I watched a homeless man pass by with a bottle of absinthe in each hand and chugging from both without the slightest sign of drunkenness, I felt something deeply wrong. With new urgency fueling my actions, I quickened my pace. The address lead to an abandoned kennel by the Thames with eighteen satellites and what seemed to be an apparatus for tapping into Google Fiber on the roof and a rusty steel sliding door. With some effort, it opened with a screech of metal-on-metal. to the site of a single wooden table in the middle of an empty room devoid of lights save for the glow of a laptop monitor illuminating a pasty Italian man seated at the table, typing feverishly in Sumerian C++. After a couple seconds, he looked up at me with a smile. "Hallo!" he said in a voice that was as cheerful as it was accented (which was very). "I've been waiting for you, Jamal." "How did you know my name?" I said in disbelief. "I looked you up on Facebook. Now, can you please close the door before the vampires smell us?" "W-wait, vampires?!" I stammered. "Yes. Everyone in Europe is vampires, don't you know?" he said with a smile. After a couple seconds, it faded into a look of deep sorrow. "And it's all my fault." He then proceeded to tell me the truth about Mizahar: he was a code warlock who made the site in the year 3000 to unite the world with shared passion and love for gay vampires, and had just brought peace to the Middle East and was relaxing with a cup of coffee in his 6 million dollar Italian villa, preparing to expand to China and stop all the hackers and spam by distracting everyone with sexy gay vampires when he heard a knock at his door. When he opened it, he saw... THEM. At his door was a six foot nine, three hundred pound black man who introduced himself as DeShawn, flanked by an identical looking six foot nine, three hundred pound black woman also named DeShawn. They had heard of Tarot's glorious gay vampire roleplay site, and wanted to go into business with him, but without the vampires. Tarot, of course, refused, so they punched him in the kidneys, strapped him to a chair with leather belts, and viciously, forcefully tickled him until he gave in. They then stripped out the sexy gay vampires and replaced them with the content you see today. But Jamal, you may ask, how are we experiencing Mizahar now if it was made in the year 3000? Well, they were also going to implant mind control chips to be broadcasted remotely into everyone's heads, and they got into Tarot's DeLorean and made him drive to the local Best Buy to get them, but when he was passing the Colosium he did a barrel roll right through it and sent them all back in time. Broken, alone, stranded in a strange, archaic time with no money or means of getting back, all they had were the specs to Mizahar... But that could be enough. The site was successful enough, but under DeShawn's tyrannical leadership it could never live up to its promise of gay vampire world peace. And here we were. DeShawn had to be stopped, but he was big and scary and I couldn't get a gun because I was a registered sex offender (public urination.) We sat there together, sipping cheap instant coffee in quiet thought. "So you went back in time by barrel rolling into a historical monument." I said contemplatively. "I believe so, though I suppose you could also call it a sideways flip." "A flip, you say..." Suddenly my eyes lit up. "Tell me Tarot, do you still have that DeLorean?" "Yes..." he said suspiciously, "But why do you ask?" "We're going to the source." So anyways then we jumped through time by flipping the DeLorean over Stonehenge and went back to the future to when DeShawn was a wee baby and we combat rolled out of the car in midair and we were all "DeShwan, your iron rule comes to and end." and then baby DeShawn looked at us and said in perfect Italian "Insolent pests, I need you no longer!" and then he turned into a GIANT WOLF, at which point Tarot retorted "Demon, I have waited long for this moment!" and flexed his shirt off to reveal a physique that would put Hulk Hogan to shame and he punched DeShawn to death and we got married and lived happily ever after. |