The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #3)

by Matt Dinniman

“Why does she always type in all caps?” Katia whispered as I peered out the window. “Is it because she’s four-legged?” “No. It’s because she’s Donut.”

“Look at how beautiful she is,” Donut whispered. “She’s like a vision of pure elegance.” “Yo,” Elle cried at the bartender. “Whose dick do I gotta suck to get another drink? Christ.”

I turned to see her standing there on The Sledge’s shoulder, glaring at Frank. Both her and The Sledge now had pink feather boas around their necks. The Sledge now also wore a cowboy hat. Hanging from the boa on the Sledge’s neck was a giant pinback button that read, “I like my sausages extra-large. Penis Parade. Desperado Club Floor One.”

just for us and only us. The three of us. I grinned. “My dad once made me sleep in a tent in the yard because I had a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop.” “Miss Beatrice once used scissors to get poop off my butt,” Donut said. “Uh huh,” I said. “Once?” “We’re having a moment here, Carl. Don’t ruin it.”

It was painfully clear what the dungeon wanted us to do. You will not break me. Fuck you all.

You will not break me. Fuck you all. You will not break me.