Alright, alright, so here's the vibe: Picture me, coming off a 40-day dungeon survival tour. Mission clear: Find Takoyaki and inhale it like I've been fasting in the wilderness—because, surprise, I was fasting in the wilderness. Quick side note—dungeon life? Yeah, zero stars, would not recommend. My hair? Full-on frizz mode. Clothes? Goblin-loot couture, and the smell? Not exactly giving "fresh and clean." More like "I've been fermenting under a rock."
Anyway, I spot it—the Holy Grail of my starving existence: a Takoyaki stall. So I do what any sane, starving person would do—I sprint over, slam down some platinum coins like I'm Jeff Bezos, and then… yeah, disaster.
The guy running the stall looks at me like I just teleported out of a nightmare. And I'm thinking, "Bro, I'm just here for some octopus balls, chill." But nah, his face goes from normal to straight-up tomato emoji. I glance down to see what's up and... oh, OH.
Fourth Wall Break Alert: "Ever have one of those days where the universe just decides to roast you alive? Well, pro tip: When escaping a dungeon, always double-check your wardrobe. Because apparently, Goblin-loot isn't exactly runway-ready. And when you're hungry, you might just forget how to human."
Yeah, so turns out, my so-called "outfit" decided to hit me with a little surprise: a flashing my boobs because of a loose hem on my dress Top half of the areola just out there, chillin'. And this guy? Yeah, he's clutching his chest like I just gave him a sneak peek of the end credits scene.
"Oh my God, puddin', that was not part of the plan! No funny business, I swear!" I'm out here trying to laugh it off, hoping the ground will open up and just yeet me into the abyss, but dude's heart rate? Parkour mode.
Fourth Wall Break Alert: "Pro tip #3: Flashing someone—accidentally, of course—isn't exactly a chill way to make friends. There's a fine line between humor and someone thinking you're putting on a free show. Spoiler: I was not putting on a free show."
Then, as if I haven't taken enough Ls for one day, the guy suddenly sniffs the air. His nose wrinkles like he just caught a whiff of literal death, and then he backs up, saying, "Mamma mia! What's that smell?"
And I'm just standing there like, "Oh no… that would be me." Yeah, the funk is strong with this one. "Haven't showered in, you know, 40 days—goblin-loot fashion and all. You get it, right?"
His eyes widen, like I just admitted to murder. "You smell like roadkill that's been left out to dry," he says, stepping back even further.
Honestly? Can't blame him.
Fourth Wall Break Alert: "Lesson #4: If you've gone 40 days without a shower, maybe don't roll up to a food stall expecting a warm welcome. Pro tip: People tend to lose their appetite when you smell like regret marinated in dumpster juice. Also, no one's gonna give you extra points for surviving if you reek. Trust."
I just shrug, like, "No hard feelings, my guy. It's been a rough 40 days, you feel me?"
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