#dash-con

My gay husband took us to a wedding ceremony at this “dash-con.” No Teen Wolf, though. Sad.

My time at this “dash-con” has come to a close. I have learned much about the “tumblers” in my time. My gay husband assures me that I haven’t the faintest, but I disagree. My studies have prevailed upon me the importance of this unique society. I have three travel tips for any other brave interlopers who dare to come to the con in the future.

1. The ball pit will never be piss free and sitting amongst the piss laden balls is a critical rite of pissage required of all visitors. The locals call this the “piss tax.”

2. The locals have not yet developed any form of legal tender. Goods and services can only procured through the exchange of trinkets. I was lucky enough to get a Thomas Jefferson Mini Binder in exchange for my wedding ring. My gay husband does not know this.

3. Here be clowns. All those who fear fun should stay away.

My gay husband has promised me we can now have a cheeky Nandos. Farewell and Hoozah!

No more reports to follow. Sad.

Haha JK…

Alert! I’ve grown sleepy. I need a nap. I’m just a little guy. This is not a test. My gay husband won’t let me. Alert!

I was feeling quite ill but my gay husband whipped up a warm glass of the sludge—a local cure-all consisting of Tums and Juice I’m told—that was quite soothing. It reminded me of the rocks I once ate as a child.

I frew up :(

sorry gay husband

My gay husband has grown weary, as have I, so we have colonized two seats at the main stage. I have learned much at this point, but I fear that Delta Ruin might be beyond my comprehension .

What is it?

Is Sans Undertale in it or what?

Why is that goat mom kinda…?