This Inevitable Ruin (Dungeon Crawler Carl #7)

by Matt Dinniman

“We are not going out there, not yet,” Donut said. She was voguing in front of the mirror.

“Goodness, Carl, are you okay?” Donut asked. “You’re shaking like Miss Beatrice during pumpkin spice season.”

“Hey,” I shouted at a colonel. It was Jurgen, the large barbarian. His battalion had been designated the 105th Scream Warriors. Their logo was a drawing of a screaming girl who looked suspiciously like the mascot for the Wendy’s restaurant chain wearing a Viking helmet with only one horn.

Dumplin’. Juiced Rot Sticker Behemoth. Level 40. Warning: This Pet is Suffering from the Gurgles. Warning: This Pet is Suffering from Insanity. Warning: This Pet is Suffering from Not Just Rabies, but Eat-Your-Face-Off-Rabies. Warning: This Pet has been fed a Truck Stop Boner Pill.

Donut made a derisive noise. “Well, he looks like he stumbled drunk into the closet of a colorblind drag clown. Though I do like that boa. I wonder if it’s magical. I could use a boa, though I wouldn’t want Tina to get jealous. That’s kinda her thing.”

And we all know what happens when Carl gets a girlfriend. I love him very much, but he’s quite naïve. She could literally have dicks raining on her, and he wouldn’t notice. No offense, Carl.”

I paused, realizing what was scrawled on her forehead had finally changed. I sighed. The “Miss Me?” had been replaced with a new statement. “Fuck the Cheese Dicks.” “It’s cheese sticks, Samantha. Sticks. Not cheese dicks.” “I don’t think so, Carl. Cheese sticks doesn’t even make sense. Sticks come from trees. Why would there be a tree made out of cheese? I know one goddess whose clitoris got turned into the head of a bald man named Otis-Ray who spends his day begging to be fed cabbage, so it makes much more sense that a penis would be turned to a food item.”

Mordecai: By his left fucking tit, Donut. By his left tit. Those spells you just gained are deity spells. You are... I think you’re now the most powerful crawler in the history of this game.

“Wait, you can play your bagpipes now?” Donut gasped. “We can start a band! We can play a song at Louis’s second wedding after we save him!” “The bagpipes are in the probably-never-going-to-need-this-stuff folder, and that’s where they’re going to stay,” I replied. “Is that where you keep the bucket of glitter and the Bea Arthur condom and the sushi-making kit?” “Amongst other things, yes.”