Why make friends when you can make enemies?
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“Had they been aware of the full depth and extent of the social and economic catastrophe that they were about to initiate, I have no doubt that the event would have been cancelled altogether. Oh, who am I trying to kid. Knowing that bunch of clowns they’d have gone right ahead. Heck, the server would have been busier. There would have been queues.”
- Felicity Chipmonk, Lecturer in inHumanities, Wilcannia University
It was a fun game until the dusties turned up, after that it was sheer bloody-minded slaughter. B******s, each and every one of them.”
- Anonymous survivor
“The Nilla lot were easy, it was like ‘pop pop pop’ and down they went, I didn’t even bother taking my awp. I knocked off a fair few of my own crowd too, but I always was better than them. They should have known not to turn up when they heard I was going.”
- Anonymous survivor
“Regrets? Sometimes. I mean, I’d always seen Magoo as the soul of courtesy, a proper gentleman. We’d played together plenty of times, I really liked him, honestly. That didn’t stop me from hosing him down with lead while he was reloading, of course, but do I regret doing it? Well, yes, on occasion. But then I just take another swig of beer from his skull and the feeling passes.”
- Anonymous survivor
“We’d been friends for years but she still shot me with a deagle at point blank range. I haven’t been the same man since. Look, I’ll show you the tube.”
- Anonymous survivor
“I’m a big fan of Smithwicks Tincture of Chloroform – for every ailment it cures it gives you two fresh ones and it’s strong enough to kill an elephant. What do you mean, ‘stay on topic’? This is on topic.”
- Timothy Forceps, historian and qualified lunatic
#3, OFFICE
FRIDAY NIGHT
8PM - 10PM
(Australian Eastern Standard Time, thank you to the pedants who pointed this out. You know who you are)
