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Revision as of 15:52, 16 February 2007 by Costello (talk | contribs) (New page: grubbymitts's entry for the How much do you love GBAtemp? competition. == GBAtemp – the best site in the world. == <i> It was St. Valentine’s day. I was settled in for a quie...)

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grubbymitts's entry for the How much do you love GBAtemp? competition.

GBAtemp – the best site in the world.

It was St. Valentine’s day. I was settled in for a quiet day, resting, feet up, laptop on and surfing the pages of GBAtemp when the doorbell rang. Diedre, my wife of ten years, got up from the sofa and went to answer the door.
“Simon, it’s my mother!”
Oh dear God! What did she want?
My mother-in-law, or Grizzly Adams as I like to call her, stormed into the living room.
“I see you’re here!” she snapped.
“It is my house!” I retaliated.
“Simon, don’t talk to my mother like that!” Diedre told me. “Sorry, mother.”

Doris, the gorgon, stared at me. I turned away before I faced a life of petrifaction. The ogress before me, attired in a pink dress with matching hat, was the size of a mountain, a danger to shipping. “Are you getting off your idle backside so that I can sit down?” she spat.
Diedre pleaded with her eyes for me not to start an argument. I had told my wife time after time that she needed to stand up to her termagant of a mother, but she refused to believe that there was anything wrong with her. Reluctantly, I stood up and let the old hag have my beloved sofa all to her self. The mad cow almost sat on my laptop.
“Shift this piece of crap too!” she yelled, hurling my laptop to the floor. “GBAtemp? What kind of pussyboy plays on a DS? Real men hack their PSPs with Dark_Alex’s firmware and only surf Maxconsole!!!”
My blood boiled, but for the sake of my marriage, I let her transgression go.
“Make me a cup of tea!” the battleaxe demanded. Diedre began to move toward the kitchen but the witch said, “Not you, dear. Your pathetic excuse for a husband can do it.”

I bit my tongue and went to brew her tea. From in the kitchen I could hear the old shrew slagging me off.
“He hasn’t got a job. He’s run up thousands of pounds in debt. He can’t even give me a grandchild! You’d do best to leave him!”

I finished making the cup of tea and took it into her. She snatched it off me without a thank you and took a long sip. Her face contorted and she spat out the tea. A tablespoon of salt in a cuppa does that.
“You nasty, horrid man!” she screamed, and threw the scalding tea at me. I jumped out of the way, but the tea hit the laptop screen. Sparks flew out of it and my beloved portable pc died a premature, painful death. I sank to my knees and sobbed.
“That’ll teach you!” the nag cackled. “Now, make me a proper cup of tea, you worthless pimple on the arse of humanity!”
I slowly rose to my feet, fists clenched, my eyes aflame. “You evil, twisted, depraved, baneful old crow!” I declared.
“HOW DARE YOU!” shrieked the harpy on my sofa. “I’ll skin you alive!”

Doris stood up and advanced upon me. Twenty five stone of fat, useless whore of Satan, with fire in her eyes reached out to strangle me. Just as she was about to grab my neck, my laptop rose from the dead. GBAtemp’s homepage flashed up and I heard an angry roar emanate from my laptop’s speakers. Ethereal hands, made up of tiny noughts and ones reached from the screen and grabbed the harpy around her ample waist. Doris tried to shake them off, but their grip was too strong.
“Diedre! Help your poor mother!” the crone cried, as she batted away at GBAtemp’s vengeful hands.

Diedre rushed over to help her mother, but something was wrong. However much Diedre pulled her mother, the hands’ grip tightened. Suddenly, the laptop’s screen began to ripple. I blinked as I saw teeth, rows and rows of tiny, sharp gnashers, appear all over GBAtemp’s homepage. The hands dragged my mother-in-law towards the screen. The teeth crunched and my mother-in-law began to sink into the laptop’s gaping maw.

The banshee wailed as GBAtemp chewed and chomped on her. Diedre tried to pull her mother from the laptop, but it was no good. I grabbed my wife and pulled her away, before she too was eaten alive.
Within seconds almost all of the crazed crone had been devoured, but even to the end she spat a tirade of filth at me. I made notes, she was very creative.
“Rot in the deepest, darkest, dankest depths of Hell, you foul demon!” I yelled, throwing my head back and laughing maniacally. “Even Dark Freaking Alex can’t help you now!”
“Leave him, Diedre!” screeched the harridan as the laptop pulled the last of her in.
“Yes, mother!” Before the echoes of my mother-in-law’s dying screams had stopped bouncing around the room, Diedre had packed her suitcase, hailed a cab and flitted.
GBAtemp burped and the fishwife’s hat flew out of the screen. I ducked as it shot past my head and hit the wall behind me. I picked it up and placed it on the mantelpiece, a reminder of the day GBAtemp slew a dragon.

The next morning I awoke to the sound of my doorbell ringing continuously. I clutched my head as the celebratory hangover kicked in and the doorbell sounded like Big Ben going off in my bonce. I staggered to the front door, tripping over discarded beer cans and a half-eaten kebab.
I opened the door and saw a man standing on my doorstep. He was dressed in black trousers, a white shirt and a black leather jacket. His head was shaven and his eyes were dark and cold.
“Mr Mitts?” he asked. “I have an order here from your credit supplier to collect three thousand pounds. Do you have that available in cash, Mr Mitts?”
I shook my head. “Then, I have no choice but to repossess items from your house until I have collected enough to pay off your debt.” I nodded and let him in. I wasn’t about to pick a fight with him, I could barely see straight. The bailiff walked into my living room and began to take stock of my belongings.

“You look worn out,” I told the bailiff as he worked. “Have you been busy this morning?”
The bailiff nodded. “Yeah, a few people didn’t want to pay. I had to convince them, if you know what I mean.” He rubbed his swollen knuckles. “Tiring work.”
“Indeed. Well, you’ll get no hassle from me,” I replied. I removed the beer cans from my sofa. “In fact, please consider this laptop.” I handed him the laptop, still powered up. “As you can see it works a treat and it’s currently logged onto a most interesting site: GBATemp. Have you heard of it?”
“GBAtemp?” the bailiff sneered. “Are you a wussy DS owner? Real men play PSPs!”
I smiled and turned away as I heard the screams fill the air.


The End.