Night One
A bunch of them were out and about doing whatever it is guests stranded at a live Diablo themed mafia in suburban Sydney do when an over-enthusiastic man in a top hat burst into their midst.
"Change places!" he shouted with manic glee. Unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm, they followed his lead and joined him at the plastic table around which six chairs had been set.
No sooner had they sat down for a cup of what smelled like tea, they found themselves changing places again.
And again.
And again.
By the time it was time for them to act, they were so exhausted that it seemed easier to just target those at the table with them.
The first big man attacked the second big man, but the hot girl in the tiny skirt convinced him to hug him instead of hurt him.
The unopened book did a whole lot of nothing, the shambling corpse-man gave a rousing speech to a guy intent on killing him, and they certainly appreciated the sentinment.
"Thanks, you merkin". They then proceeded to hack the corpse-man up into small pieces.
A lesser man might have perished, but the corpse man just left a little of himself behind.
??? is dead. He was Varys' Missing Testicles, ??? Aligned Squashed Grapes
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Another pretty girl was out and about that evening, and went to pay a visit to somebody she thought might be able to help her.
Cajole, reprimand, and delegate as she might - the kitten just kept playing with the ball of yarn and purring.
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In what might be one of the more bizarre things to ever happen, a man with a large penis thrust it between the virgin pages of a weighty tome and f**ked the shit out of it.
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One of the two seemingly identical big men was on his way to bed when a small guy with glasses and the reek of loser on him approached.
"Hey there," the kid asked, "Do you need a best friend?"
The big guy said he would think about it.
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The flamboyant man in women's clothing decided he needed to conduct an interview.
"Hey hey!" he shouted excitedly to his non-existent audience, "This here is Rhu-bee Rhod! I'm here with this mysterious man in tight-fitting clothes. Let me tell you friends, he is HOT HOT HOT!"
"Why, thanksareenie strangeroonie!"
"Tell the listeners at home, are you a Simpsons character?"
"Indeedley doodley!"
"And are you a threat"
"No sirreee Bob!"
"Unbelievable!"
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The big man was just drifting off to sleep when a woman crept into his room. Her exotic appearance did quite a bit to cover for the fact she reeked oddly of shit.
It was a good time.
"My lion" she roared, "My lion with muscles in places there shouldn't be muscles!"
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The trio of angry men were on the hunt, inspired by the words of the stitched together corpse they'd killed earlier.
This time they came across a big man.
"You're a big one," they observed.
"My client wishes to make it known that he is not appearing tonight in protest over the shenanigans surrounding Undertaker's so-called 'victory' at SummerSlam".
"Yep," they continued, "A real. Big. merkin".
They charged then, and although the big guy could have taken them in a fair fight, they decided to make do with killing his friend instead.
But their blades never found their mark. Indeed(ily), somebody was out there praying for the fat Jew and the towering former UFC champion.
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The kid looking for a best friend was preparing to curl up for a night's rest when an obese woman with too much makeup approached.
"Are you Misanthrope?" she asked.
"Huh?" he responded blearily.
She then flashed her extremely untended bush at him. He vomited.
