Dungeon Crawler Carl (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #1)

by Matt Dinniman

Reward: You’re now a handsome son of a bitch. That’s reward enough.

Enchanted Crown of the Sepsis Whore.

“Nor am I wearing a cloak that makes me look like I won a participation trophy at the special needs comic con, Carl. I’m a cat. Cats don’t wear pants. Don’t be so droll.”

“Yes. A huge. Ugly. Goblin. My word. I do not like running.

“There sure were a lot of babies in there, too,” Donut said in that last moment before the blast.

“My word is it ghastly. Miss Beatrice is going to absolutely shit when she sees it on me.”

“My heavens,” Donut said, crinkling her face like I’d tried to feed her vegetables. “This is going to be unpleasant.”

“It’s a damn Waffle House from Alabama.

“Once by a meth-addled goblin shaman and once by Abraham Lincoln’s grandmother. I can’t wait to see who you attract next. Five gold coins says it’s some sort of bog witch with a beard.”

He was like a goddamned psychotic wolverine hopped up on bath salts.