Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - My Sister Survives Monsters for a Living. Tonight, They All Showed Up at Once

Episode Date: August 19, 2026

This comedy horror follows Ellen, a professional Final Girl who’s made a career surviving masked killers, demons, and monsters—but when several of her most ridiculous nemeses show up in the same woods on the same night, even she knows something is off. Soon, her younger brother Dennis is dodging machetes, arguing with supernatural psychopaths, and discovering that whatever brought them all together might be even stranger than the killers themselves. Still drinking stale, store-bought coffee? Head to ⁠⁠⁠NoSleepCoffee.com⁠⁠⁠ and pick up a bag of fresh roasted-to-order coffee delivered straight to your door! Use promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout for 20% off your first order! NoSleep Coffee – The freshest coffee money can buy. Guaranteed. Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at ⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠. Shopify: You don’t need anyone’s approval to make a living. Build your own business with a free trial at shopify.com/dns Author:  Jake Bible Check out all of Jake’s horror story collections at: https://jakebible.com/short-storiesnovellascollections/ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In tonight's story, Ellen isn't your typical girl. Surviving masked killers and monsters isn't just something she's good at. It's literally her job. But when several of her deadliest enemies suddenly appear in the same woods on the same night, her younger brother Dennis realizes something is very wrong. Because these killers didn't all come back just to murder Ellen. Because tonight, the monsters aren't following the rules. And Dennis is about to find out why they've all shown up at once.

But before we get into it, if you enjoy scary stories like this, be sure to like and subscribe so you never miss any of our weekly live streams. The blood running down Ellen's leg is like a stripe on the back of a pair of sweats, flashing red at me as I sprint directly behind her. Both of us wheezing and sucking in air. We've been running for I don't know how long, long enough that I don't hear the cracking of broken tree limbs and the smashing of bushes anymore. I think, a gasp. I think... I cough. I think...

We lost them. My legs quit on me, and I stumble over to a large oak tree, my arms wrapping about it in a huge hug. It's all that's keeping me upright. Dennis, we have to keep running. We cannot stop. My sister limps back to where I'm clinging to this oak. We definitely cannot stop inside these woods. That's suicide.

Going anywhere with you is suicide. I snap. By the look on Ellen's face, that one. one stung. I instantly regret saying it. I'm sorry. I suck in a deep breath. I didn't mean that. Yeah, you did. She turns and limps off. I risk letting go of the oak, and when I stay on my feet, I follow my sister. Hey, you have to admit that you don't exactly lead a normal life. You think, Dennis? Damn it, now she's really mad. This is not good. Bad shit happens when she's mad. Ellen!

Hush, you moron! Keep your damn voice down! She rounds a tree, and I lose sight of her. Doesn't matter. Her blood looks black in the moonlight filtering through the branches, leaving a trail clear enough for me to follow. God, that wound has to hurt like a bastard. What psycho stabs a girl in the ass with an ice pick?

Bowden Clark, that's who. They don't call him the stabber for nothing. I get to a tree, rounded, and can just barely make out Ellen's silhouette up ahead. I push myself to catch up. Ellen, please. If we run all night, we'll only be exhausted when the sun comes up. Then what? We won't have any energy to fight. I see her head tilt and angle back toward me. I always have energy to fight. Yeah, well, I don't. Shhh, you shh. No, you shh. You both should shh. I jump, turn, and just managed to duck under the swing of a machete.

Told you. Ellen shouts. The machete's blade is stuck in the tree I was standing next to. I follow the blade to the scarred, vainy hand holding it, then trace his arm up to his shoulder, his neck, and finally his face. That horrible face. Crap! This isn't the stabber.

This is Crapeface, which is the stupidest name for a mass murderer ever. But I guess for as long as slasher's have existed, we let the press name them. Pretty dumb if you ask me. I stumble backwards, my eyes locked on the melted skin of the killer's features. Hey, Crapeface, eat dirt! My sister flies past me and tosses a handful of earth and crape faces, well, face, just as he manages to get the machete free. He cries out, throwing an arm across his eyes as the dirt blinds him. Then Ellen tackles him about the waste, and I lose sight of them as the tree blocks my view again.

Ellen! There are grunts and gasps, thunk and thuds. Then my sister is tossed like a rag doll. colliding with the young maple that bows on impact. She hits the ground and instantly tries to get up onto her hands and knees. Crapeface appears. His machete at his side, a sneer warping his already warped lips. Leave her alone!

I shout and get up, looking about for a weapon, any weapon. Oh, no, the little brother told me to leave her alone. I'd better just do as he says. He switches directions and marches right at me. God, I suck at this running away from Slashers crap. I really do. I mean, if it wasn't for my sister, I'd either already be dead, or I'd have my own boring life somewhere far, far from all this insanity and bloodshed.

But I hate boring, so... Crapeface points the machetee at me. Do you know why they call me, Crape Face? Um, yeah, because your face looks like crepe paper after you survived that fire when you were a kid. Crape Base pauses. I think he frowns. Hard to tell with that messed up face of his. Crate paper?

What the hell is crepe paper? Seriously? Crap paper. It's what those birthday streamers are made of. That's crepe paper? I thought that was paper machet. Dude, no. Paper machet is that stuff you make with flour and water and newspaper. I think pignatas are made out of paper machet. Oh. But then they're covered in crepe paper. Exactly. The two of us have a nice little laugh. Arts and crafts can be confusing.

I mean, you get taught a little about that shit once in like that. kindergarten, and then it's all about the mathematics industrial machine for the rest of school. Damn, people have been calling me crepe face for my whole life, and I always pictured something else. I chuckle. I have to admit, when my sister first said your name, I was thinking of crepes, like the dessert crepes, all filled with strawberries and whipped cream. I mean, what's scary about a strawberry crepe? You ever try making crepes? They are a bitch, let me tell you, just like you are sister. then waves the machete. Sorry, sorry, bad joke.

Anyway, with crapes, you have to get them thin enough. Then you have to make sure they aren't too thin or you can't... Blood explodes out of Crapeface's mouth. So does the business end of a very sharp branch. I scream and try not to piss myself. Crapeface stays upright, pinned in place by the branch through his face. Then a man leans out from behind him and gives him a grin. Okay, I can't see the grin because the stabber wears a brink.

burlap sack over his head, which is also just stupid. So it's impossible to really know what he's thinking. But I have been at this almost as long as my sister, and after a while you get a feel for these things. Stabby, stabby! A gravelly voice sing songs from under all that burlap. Man, how the hell does he breathe in that shit? And I bet it stinks in there with all that heavy slasher breathing.

Yuck! The sharp branch is yanked back, and Crapeface stands for half a second, then collapses into the forest dirt. Does this one want stab her to stab him? Oh, and the bastard talks like a mix of Golm, Buffalo Bill from the Silence of the Lambs, and a caveman. It's really annoying.

How about you stab yourself, asshole? The burlap stretches, and I know for sure the asshead is grinning at me. It's a rude one it is. Stabber will enjoy stabbing this one, won't we? I look around. Who is we? Are you talking the royal we? Because I hate to break it to you.

But you're not royalty. You probably wouldn't even qualify for a house servant. You'd be that weird stable boy with the humpback and the face all broken from when a horse kicked you. We don't like horses. They bite. I'm making fun of you, asshole, not actually suggesting that you become a stable boy. Too much hay.

We don't like hay because we have allergies. Makes us sneeze. Oh my God. Shut up about hay. I was saying that you are a low life, not some royal who can say we and mean it. We don't like your attitude. We're going to stabby, stabby now.

No! I hold out my hands. No, let's rethink this. You don't really want to stab me. You want to stab those teenagers who hurt you all those years ago. The stabber swivels at the hips and looks to the left. He swiveles at the hips and looks to the right. He shrugs.

No teenagers here. So stab or stab you. He shrugs again. Stabber stab you. You brother of teenager girl we want to kill. You like appetizer. You a tater skin with bacon and green onions and extra cheddar. But no sour cream.

Stabber does not like sour cream. No, we do not. He races for me. Then he suddenly face down as Ellen slides in front of him, as if she's stealing a soccer ball at the World Cup. Stabber falls over her, and I realize that my sister has Crape Face's machete in her hands. She shoves Stabber off of her,

then jams the blade up, under the burlap sack. When it comes out the other side, the blade is bloody, very bloody. There's a twitch and a gasp from the stabber. Then he goes still. Holy shit, sis! You got him! You finally got the stabber! One thing I've learned from building businesses

is that getting started is usually the hardest part. When we launched No Sleep Coffee, we already knew exactly what we wanted to sell. We just needed a website. Shopify made that step incredibly straightforward. We set up our storefront, added our products, uploaded the descriptions and images, and within a few days we had a fully functioning online store. What I really value is how Shopify takes care of so much behind the scenes.

The checkout experience is extremely smooth. Customers complete their purchases quickly, giving you peace of mind as an owner that you're not losing sales at the last step. If you've been considering selling a product online, whether it's coffee, merch, or something you made yourself, Shopify is definitely worth a look. With Shopify, nothing's between your idea and a real business, so go make it one. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments,

and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, the SCP experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. Ellen gets to her feet, holds the machete high over her head,

then brings it down fast and true, lopping off the stabber's head. I watched the burlap sack roll a few feet away, then come loose, and the stabber's true face is revealed. Huh. I walk over and nudge the stabbard. the head with the toe. I was expecting him to be gross. This guy? Bowden Clark? Haven't you seen the police photos? He's been on my ass for over a decade, Dennis. Yeah, well, I'm three years younger than you. And dad wouldn't ever let me look through all his police files. He don't ask for permission.

You just sneak in and look at them, moron. That's what I did. And get grounded for my PS3 for a month? No, thank you. Ellen growls in annoyance, then looks about. Well, at least he took out Crapeface for me. Did you know Crapeface thought crepe paper was paper mache? What a dumbass. His name was Kyle Noonan. And he had a learning disability, Dennis. Don't be mean.

Don't be mean. He's been trying to kill you almost as long as the stabber. As have I, children. As have I. I scream. Not going to lie. I scream like a grown man scared out of his wits. Yes, my scream sounds almost exactly like an eight-year-old.

year old girls. So what? Son of a bitch! Ellen groans. You two? What is up tonight? Why are all of you assholes in these woods at the same time? She cocks her head and looks the dude up and down. Wait a minute. I thought I banished you last year. A man dressed, head-to-toein leather, and not cheap leather.

This isn't some flea-market crap. This is serious leather. Well, this guy sort of floats between the trees, settling directly in front of my sister in me. Oh, and he has toothpicks sticking out of like every pore on his body. You can see them sticking out of the leather. How the hell does a wooden toothpick pierce leather like that? I cannot be banished, child. Hey, Pickhead, how about you stop calling me, child?

I'm going to be 28 in three months. Is that so? You're a Capricorn? On the cusp, 22nd of December. Almost Christmas. I'm a Capricorn, too, but January, Baby, not December. Most are.

What the hell is going on? I shout. Dennis Chill. Ellen hisses at me. It's called banter. I have to do this with all of the killers before we fight. You're talking about astrology. Yeah, well, do you have any idea how many times I've had to have conversations with this asshole?

She points at pickhead, then points at stabber. Or this bastard? Then she points at Crapeface. Or that guy? I hear you think's crepe. Paper is the same as paper machet. Pickhead says. What a retard.

Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. Not cool, man. I yell. I am the embodiment of hell's evil. I am nothing but cool. Pickhead grins. And one of the toothpicks on his upper lip gets snagged in one of his nostrils. Uh, hold on a second.

He tries to get it loose. Ow, ow, ow. Damn it, just one second. I move closer to Ellen and whisper. Why aren't you killing him? He hasn't shown me the box. He has to show me the magic box and ask me if I want to experience

the pain and pleasure of all existence. I can't kill him until I see the box. That makes no sense. Just kill the son of a bitch. Jesus, Dennis, have you not paid any attention to my life at all? I'm a final girl. That's how I make my living.

And in this day and age, considering how high inflation is, I can't just be one monster's final girl. I have to freelance and branch out. Look at this shit. She throws her arms out, indicating the chaos around us. Look at this. Two of my nemesies.

Um, nemesi? No, it's nemesis. Yeah, your brother is correct. It's nemesis. Pickhead grunts and lets loose with a laugh. There we go. Got that one's free. He grins over at us.

Now, where were we? The box. Ellen says, making a gimmie-gimmy motion. You have to show me the box. I didn't show you the box. Nope. How puzzling? Pickett laughs.

Get it? Because it's a puzzle box? Buddy, stick to the cryptic goth sayings and leave the jokes to guys like Five Nyes or that creepy-ass doll, okay? You just can't pull them off. That's simply untrue child. I took a weekend improv classic UCB, thank you very much. It's worse than I thought, Ellen. There's improv?

Can we get on with this? Just show me the box, Pickhead. You know I do have an actual name. Don't care. You will when I am peeling the skin from you, one strip at a time. He flies at Ellen, and she barely ducks a swipe from his nasty, goth black nails. You will learn the meaning of pain, child. I will teach you agony like you cannot dream of.

Bring it, Dickhead. It's Pickhead, and now you will learn. Pickhead huffs, then pats his body down. He grimaces and starts, checking him. all of the pockets in his leather outfit. There are, like, a lot of pockets. Oh, dear me. Well, this is embarrassing.

Ellen waits a second. Her hands up, ready to fight. Then she frowns and shakes her head as Pickhead continues patting his pockets. No way. Ellen throws her hands up in the air and spins in a circle. Are you kidding me with this shit? She stops and aims a finger at Pickhead.

Don't tell me you forgot the box. I, um... Remember I had it before I... stepped through the portal from hell, then Razor Jaws said something, and I turned to him. Oh, crap. I set it down to tie my boot. Razor Jaws said my boot was untied. He slaps his forehead, snapping a few toothpicks. It's just right there. The bastard waves his hands around, and a swirling portal of evil appears behind him. You children stay here, okay? I'll be right back at the box. He steps through and disappears instantly with a loud, sort of weird squeak, like the portal could use some oil on the hinges.

Except, there are no hinges. God, I hate this shit. We aren't staying, are we? I ask my sister. Shit, no, come on! And we're running again. Great. Where are you leading us?

Ellen? Where are we going? Down to the river! The river? But you have that water monster after you, too. If all your enemies are showing up tonight, then we can't go near the river. Yeah, well, I got kind of lucky having them gang up on me. Lucky? Are you insane?

I don't need an answer to that. Yes, yes, my sister is insane. Dennis, if I don't take out three monsters tonight, I'll lose my health care coverage according to Guild Rules. Guild rules? What guild? The final girl guild, you dipshit. We were just talking about it the other day. That's real. I thought you were talking about starting a guild.

I didn't know there already was one. How are you still alive? You keep saving my ass, and I'm a fan favorite. I shouldn't have pulled you from the car when Mom drove it into the lake, trying to kill us all. What I should have done is let you die. Then it had had been only Dad and me, and everything would be simpler. You don't mean that, don't I?

Well, Dad would still be drunk, and the mayor still would have taken his badge away. Maybe, maybe not. We reach the river, and Ellen splashes into the water until she's mid-thigh. Critter from the dark river! Come and get me! Vinyl girl here! Just waiting all alone. Completely helpless! Dude, you're not alone. I'm right here. I sit down to take my shoes off. What are you doing? I'm going to wait in with you. Tell you aren't. Go find a big stick or big rock or something you can use as a weapon for when the critter shows up. How do you know he'll show up? He's a horn dog.

He always shows for a booty call. That's gross. I gop. You two haven't actually... What? Don't be disgusting. Just go find a big something, will you? God, what is wrong with you?

Oh, I don't know. Maybe I have a psycho for a sister. You ever think of that? What it's like to have you for my sister? It sucks! I wish one of these assholes would finally kill you. The second the words come out of my mouth, I regret them.

Hey, Ellen, I'm... Eat shit, Dennis. Go find a big rock. Be useful for a change. I know she's hurting from what I said, so I just nod. Turn and start searching the riverbank for a big rock. Riverbanks have big rocks, right? Apparently not.

I hunt for maybe a quarter mile before I turn around. No big rocks. Some sticks, sure. But are they big? Not really. The ones big enough that might work as a weapon. are rotten and mushy, not much use. So I turn and walk back. Hey kid, sounds like you got girl trouble. My shoulders slumped. This isn't good.

Hi, Chauncey. I didn't think you'd make this trip. Why? Because I'm too short to drive and have to hitch rides in strangers' cars like some creeper. I look over at the tree line and can see the dummy standing there in the shadows, the white of his tuxedo shirt reflecting the moonlight. I have never understood the physics. of this guy. How can a dummy with no bones stand? He doesn't even have dowels in his legs. They are meant to be draped over a human lap, while a human hand is shoved up his ass to make him talk. The guy has spaghetti legs. Also, his name is Chauncey and he wears a tux. Why is his voice all old-schooled Brooklyn? Not the English gentleman's accent his old owner had for him when he

performed. Did you hear me, kid? You think I'm a creeper, do you? One thing I've learned from building businesses is that getting started is usually the hardest part. When we launched No Sleep Coffee, we already knew exactly what we wanted to sell. We just needed a website. Shopify made that step incredibly straightforward. We set up our storefront, added our products, uploaded the descriptions and images, and within a few days we had a fully functioning online store. What I really value is how Shopify takes care of so much behind the scenes.

The checkout experience is extremely smooth. customers complete their purchases quickly, giving you peace of mind as an owner that you're not losing sales at the last step. If you've been considering selling a product online, whether it's coffee, merch, or something you made yourself, Shopify is definitely worth a look. With Shopify, nothing stands between your idea and a real business, so go make it one. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, The SCP Experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed.

These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcast. You are a reanimated ventriloquist dummy, Chauncey. Creeper is your whole schick. He shake my head. And don't say I have girl trouble when talking about my sister. That's just gross. A long string flies at me, and I duck under it.

Not only is he a reanimated dummy, but he somehow shoots deadly marionette strings at his victims. Strangling them to death with the strings? He's a dummy, not a marionette. I hate this shit. Hold on, kid. Did you say that cute? killer bitch is your sister? Seriously?

Shit, kid. I thought you were the love lorn sidekick, doomed to beg for the final girl's affections. Another string flies at me, and I dodged that too. No, that was Bobby. He died last year. Fell asleep while watching Dancing with the Stars, and five knives got him. His fault, really. He knew better, and still sat down on the comfy couch with that comfy blanket over his legs. Didn't take a rocket scientist to know he was going to bite it, the second his eyes closed.

Bobby. Right. And you're? Another string. I dodge it. I can't keep this up all night. He's just playing with me, waiting for me to make a mistake. I'm Dennis, the younger brother. Dennis, younger brother. Got it. Sorry about the mix-up. It happens. More often than I'd like, but I keep that to myself. I do have some pride. A string flies. I dodge right into the other string he shoots out. The waxy line wraps about my body, tightening until I'm completely immobile. I topple backwards, and all I can see are the stars. Then I hear small footsteps coming my way. I couldn't help but overhear you and your sister's little tiff back there. Great, glad to know. I thrash, but I'm stuck. Hey, listen, kid, being second fiddle is no fun. Feeling like your life isn't your own? And all you get to experience

is being dragged from one gig to another? I get it, kid. I don't think. we're quite the same. What? No, I didn't say we were the same. I said I get it. He's now standing right over me. I see the glint of the hatpin in his hand, his trademark murder weapon, and the strings, those two. Even after being animated by my dead owner's wife's soul, he still treated me like I was just a prop for his amusement. My eyes are on the hat pin. Dead wife's soul? Wait, you're a woman? What? No, I'm a dude. 100% man inside here. But you said you have a woman's soul inside you?

Animated by, not possessed by. Think of it like a battery. She died. I got her soul's energy, and I came to life. That kind of lore is way too complicated. And, uh, brings up some questions. I think about the ventriloquist with his hand up Chauncey's bum every night. Yikes.

Forget about all that, kid. Let's focus on you. He leans down. and the hatpin is only an inch for my eye. Me? Why? Because, personally, I am not that impressed with your sister's whole final girl act. Feels too performative. And I worked in show business my whole life, so I know performative.

Aren't we all performative at our jobs? Just playing our parts for our paychecks? That's the thing, kid. Being a final girl shouldn't just be about the paychecks from the sequels and that crap. No, it needs to come from the heart. She needs to not just be a final girl in name, but in spirit as well. She's got student loans, man. She needs this job.

Whatever. He eases the hat pin closer and closer to my eye. It's all I can see now. Listen, so some of the killers and I have been talking, and we think your sister needs to go. Um, duh, you guys have been chasing her for years trying to kill her. Of course you think she should go. Chauncey's demented face looms over me,

A blurry nightmare behind the hatpin. Nah, not like that. We think she should resign and let someone else take her place. I'd taken a deep breath, ready to have my eyes stabbed out and... Hold on. What? Resign? What are you talking about?

She'll never resign. Did you not hear the part about her student loans? And if you were really listening to us before, you'd know she'd lose her health insurance too. She wouldn't need the insurance so much if she'd. She wasn't being sliced and cut and stabbed and choked and thrown out of windows. Jesus H with a monocle, kid. Costco has health insurance and the worst thing that happens there is being run over by a forklift.

That happens? More than you think, kid, more than you think. I shake my head, which is the only part of my body I can move. The hatpin follows me from side to side. No way. I couldn't betray my sister. Kid. She doesn't give two wet shits about you

He points the hat pin in the direction I came from She made you go look for a big rock He uses his free hand to make air quotes around big rock So you'd go away So she could hook up with that critter guy No way she wouldn't do that Then I think back to how she told me not to be disgusting But didn't exactly deny the whole booty call with the critter thing

I feel sick You good? kid, you're gonna puke? Don't give her the satisfaction. Chauncey circles his ear with the hatpin. Final girls ain't right in the head, kid. We need someone to take her place who can show a little bit of fear now and then.

She just treats us like we're ordering burgers and fries at the drive-thru. No way. I can't do that to my sister. The hat-pin is back in my face. Is it bigger now? Shit, it looks sharper. Tell you what, let's walk back.

And if she's doing the nasty with the critter, you'll at least take a lunch and hear us all out. Cool. She's not doing the nasty. Wanna bet? I think about it. This might be my only way to get free. Okay, sure.

If she's getting it on with the critter, then I'll take lunch with you and your pals. Great. Deal. He uses the hat pin to slice the strings holding me. I scramble up onto my feet, keeping a good amount of space between us. Come on, scaredy cat. We walk back along the riverbank. As we get closer, I hear cries, and not of pain.

When we push through a bunch of reeds, I am faced with the most horrendous sight I have ever seen. My sister is getting railed by the critter from the dark river, and he ain't trying to kill her, that's for sure. I can't believe she'd do it with a giant lizard man. Lizard man? Chantzre replies. He's a mutated otter. What? No, he has scales.

Yeah, hence the mutation part. I feel sick. I turn, and a swirling portal to hell appears. Pickhead steps out with a silver box in his hand. Oh, hey, there you are. I couldn't find the gold one, so I brought the silver one. I throw up all over him. Chauncey gives Pickhead a wave.

His sister is doing it with the critter. With the beaver guy? Oh, that is disgusting. He's an otter. Who cares? Pickhead looks down at the silver box, then walks up to me and shoves it in my face as I catch my breath. So, do you want to play? Funny you should ask.

Chaunce walks over to Pickhead. Dennis here has agreed to hear us out. Really? Oh, that's great. When? How about now? Chauncey smiles at me. That cool kid?

I hear the very gross noises from the river and nod. Yeah, get me out of here. Oh, wonderful. Pickhead tucks the box into one of his many pockets. We can take my portal. It's faster. We'll call the other guys on the way. How about Moroccan for lunch?

You always want Moroccan for lunch. Because I love Moroccan food. Stop talking about Moroccan food. I say, then puke again. Chauncey slaps me on the shoulder and walks to the portal, while Pickhead wipes the puke off his leather boots onto some of the river reeds. Maybe we should go to Denny's. Morocco may be too much for you.

Come on! Chonzie yells as he slips through the portal. I nod to Pickhead. Denny's is good. I try to ignore the cries from the river as I step through the portal. Want more? Subscribe and turn on all notifications so you need to. never miss any of our weekly uploads.