Part V: Fighting the Zombie Financial Horde
Written 3 November, 2012
A closer look at the 43 new arrivals on Whimsy revealed something disconcerting: they weren't only financial paparazzi-- they were Gorean financial paparazzi-- and they weren't only Gorean financial paparazzi, they were zombie Gorean financial paparazzi.
"Damn," I said. "I forgot Halloween on Second Life lasts until Thanksgiving!"
"They've come to eat our brains!" Sweetie cried.
"They've come to take our sim!" I cried.
"They've come to eat our brains while taking our sim!" we both cried.
"Eek!" cried Sleezy. "It's the undead brain dead Gorean press corps! Kill them all! Protect my exclusive! They's repeat anything they hear, and they won't even fact-check it! It'll be around the world in an instant!"
"Let me at them!" Sweetie cried. Judge Camper moved to stop her.
"Dammit, Judge Camper-- all right, stop harrumphing, I'll call you JusticeUnlimited of whatever-- get your hands off me! I have zombies to kill. What? Fine! I'll sign your damn waiver."
With the legalities out of the way, Sweetie got down to business. Since zombies are notoriously slow and Sweetie's sword is notoriously fast, there was soon a big pile of dead undead.
"Mute them, Chey!" said Sweetie. "Derender them! I'm tired of looking at them!
"Erm, honey," I said, "if I mute and derender them it means I won't be able to see them. You still will."
"What good is that?" Sweetie said.
"Not much to you," I admitted, "but maybe I can talk a Linden into setting them to temporary; that'll clean 'em up."
"Sweetie!" said Sleezy. "You're my hero! You protected my exclusive rights to the story!"
"There is no story," I said. "There will be no sale!"
"Oh yes there will," said an impossibly deep voice.
Sleezy turned pale. "Taggmasster 2000!" she said.