Forum Thread

In the unlikely event a garden Gnome develops cannibalistic tendencies, the correct measures to be taken are in the following, of which must be done in proper order lest all be abandoned to utter bloodshed, savagery, and chaos.

Step one, offer said Gnome a single chocolate and raisin cookie. The dough must also be infused with poison dart frogs’ venom, as this is an aphrodisiac to Gnomes, and as a general rule of thumb gnomes greatly enjoy chocolate and dried fruits.

Step two, whilst the Gnome is under an intense euphoric coma due to the cookie, you must perform the An’ud Luk ritual, which will open a rather small but perfectly gnome sized portal to the deepest recesses of hell.

Once said portal is opened, you must chuck the Gnome in question into it, in which case two things may happen, depending on how accurately you followed the first two steps. One, the gnome will be sucked into the fiery oblivion you opened passage to and the problem will have been solved, or, if you are unlucky, the Gnome will awaken before you throw it into the portal, in which case it will rip you limb from limb and eat your soul, damning you to eternal torment the likes of which will make hell seem like a summer retreat. Good luck.

– The Witchdoctor’s Bestiary, A guide on unnatural creatures and methods to monitor, contain, or dispose of them.

Have you ever thought about what special kind of hell it would be if you had been born a slice of bread?

Think about it for a second. You’re lying there, all soft and vulnerable with the rest of your bread family, right? And there’s more bread families of different colors, textures, some made with fruits, etc.

Then one day, some lady with her spawn happen to walk down your aisle, your home, and begin to pick whole families up by their bags to inspect them. And the mini human begins to pick up random bags full of unsuspecting families and slams them down, crushing those unlucky ones that fate had chosen to satiate this creature’s sick craving for destruction and chaos.

And all you can do is pray to whatever god you think will help you and watch as its birth giver comes closer and closer to your family. Imagine the horror of being suspended in air by a human’s grubby, filthy, slimy, unwashed hands; only to not be put back where you belong on the shelf you’ve known most of your life but instead into her infernal basket alongside other miserable half dead she decided to cull from the herd from other aisles.

You’re then carted around the store, whilst the rest of the store’s inhabitants look on with pity while thanking their lucky stars they aren’t you, but knowing full well that they will one day share the same cruel fate.

Once this evil sow and her spawn have decided whom they wish to kill for that evening, you are carted to the checkout where you relish a temporary relief as the pressure of a large fruit is lifted off of you only to find that some of your family didn’t survive the short journey from the shelf to here.

You remember back to when you were chosen and remember the smaller human destroying families before they even got chosen. The members of your family that didn’t survive the journey would be the lucky ones, compared to the brutal unrelenting hell that you would experience later that night.

The drive is long and silent. You and your family share the same existential dread, because you know what’s coming, and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

Once you reach the devil’s residence you will be carried inside a cramped bag with the other poor beings they chose beside you. Upon entry you’re carried into the pantry where you will await your fate in darkness, not knowing the date of your execution.

Time has no meaning. Over the course of what you presume is several days, more and more of your family members are taken in groups of two or three and never return. Soon it’s just you and the last two remaining members of your family, and the pantry door opens as a familiar greasy hand reaches out and pulls all of you out.

You’re laid on a table, made of cold granite. The walls and shelving were painted in whites and dull grays, with little sunlight managing its way through the small windows that seemingly serve no function other than to be aesthetically pleasing while failing entirely at even that. Despite that, you focus on those small rays of light, seeking any small peace of mind before you are erased from this world.

You hear the footsteps. Before you can react however the bag is torn open and the last two people you cared about in this world are spirited away. Then the screaming starts, and the smell of bread being toasted fills the air. For all your bravado about accepting your fate with a smile and no fear in your heart, you can’t help but thank whatever higher power you believe in that it was them and not you.

That gratitude is short lived however, as the hand comes back in and grabs you, lifting you by the top of your head. The pain is unimaginable. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode. You look into the eyes of this mad being who killed your entire family, hatred and fear in equal measure fill every cell of your body, then you hear a clanging sound and then suddenly you feel weightless. You fall into a pit. Inside are the mangled corpses of other foods, and some are your own family. Or what’s left of them.

You finally snap, screaming and laughing. Your broken mind is unable to grasp just what kind of hell you’ve been dropped into and it is here that you wait in darkness. The only reason you’re still alive is because they didn’t like end pieces.

At some point you started to mold, the juices from the fruit corpses ravaged your body, causing some of it to fall apart. The pain is agonizing and all you can do is wish for death that always seems to be just out of your grasp. And it’s here you stay for the rest of your days, neither alive or dead, in pain. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You curse the god that resigned you to this fate.

So yeah, being born bread would really suck.