The Eye of the Bedlam Bride (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #6)

by Matt Dinniman

Take a physically gifted, steroid-enhanced male, give him some dancing lessons, teeth whitening strips, a shower, a banana, a Guns-N-Roses CD, and an entire bottle of baby oil, and then you basically plop him into the equivalent of the inside of a female restroom at a nightclub, and you got yourself a money-making empire.

Samantha: CARL YOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING NICE TO HER. YOU HURT HER FEELINGS. Carl: How did I do that? I haven’t talked to her at all. Samantha: YOU FORGOT TO TELL HER THAT SHE WAS STUNNING WHEN YOU FIRST MET HER. IF SHE’S GOING TO BE TRAVELING WITH US, YOU HAVE TO CALL HER STUNNING, OR SHE’LL OPEN HER FIFTH EYE AND FORCE YOUR MIND INTO THE DIMENSION OF UTTER, BLACKENED PSYCHOSIS FOR AN ETERNITY OF SCREAMS.

I remembered Mordecai’s advice when it came to mages. They can’t cast their spells when you’re punching them in the face.

"Avada Kadavera? Avada deez nuts"

“Oh boy,” Samantha said as she hopped into my hands and presented her neck hole. It wriggled like the butt of a puppy. “Please don’t do that.” “I can’t help it. It does it by itself when I’m excited. You can put it as deep as you...” “Stop,” I said as I shoved this one into her. “Keep this one inside you. Can you control what you keep in and what you, uh, expel?” “Of course. That’s what kegels are for, Carl.”