Jorath: I think I'm in heat or something. Phloxin: Why, is your ass twitching? Jorath: No, not quite that bad.
Angel: I stop at the small inn. Me: It's called The Marauding Pooka. Angel: I do not stop at the small inn. I keep walking.
Me: And behind the bar is a grandmotherly old woman with a little white bonnet and little grey curls peeking out and- Phloxin: And she's really a lich, and I kill her. Angel: And she's really a grandmother, and I kill her.
Me: She says "Good evening! Welcome!" Phloxin: I scream!
Me: She reaches under the counter and pulls out a huge book. "Please sign your names in the guest register!" Everyone scrambles for dice.
Me: Didn't you guys have horses? Phloxin: We had degenerate vampire mules...
Jefe: Does this inn look suspiciously out of place compared to the rest of the town?
Me: After about an hour, a little porcelain bell in the corner of the room goes "dingle dingle dingle"... Phloxin: I throw a knife at it.
Bri: I'll be in her room, sitting in the corner. Me: Surreptitiously inhaling deeply. Bri nods. Angel: She'll offer you a joint too. Jefe: Now we know why the paladins can't hit anything...
Angel (to me): Your insulin is low, isn't it?
Jefe: It's a butt-plug! Phloxin (face wreathed in sudden torment): Oh...
Phloxin: May I ask what he ordered? Me (as the old lady): Dragon piss.
Me: Gnome-on-a-monk! Do-doo, do-do-do!
Jefe: I'm going to perform my...night forms. Angel: These are my night kata. They're sort of like pyjamas.
Me: Schedule (pronounced British-style). Sounds like a kind of chicken.
Jefe: And all of a sudden, Jorath was like "Woo, nipple!"
Me: It (the chamber pot) originally smelt slightly of potpourri. Angel: Now it smells like piss and potpourri. Phloxin: Piss-pourri.
Phloxin: I get out my dagger called "Snooze alarm"... Jefe: And I get up and go down and perform my morning kata, which looks a lot like breakfast.
Me: And I was wondering if you could go to Gendrew the chef out on the edge of town, and ask him if he'd be willing to cater the wedding dinner of Esmerelda and Bob. Phloxin (making weighing gestures): Esmerelda. Bob. Angel (scribbling): Mental note. Go to the next town over. Seduce Bob. Give him syphilis.
Me: She serves tea, milk, and orange juice. Angel: Wait a second, we're in a temperate region. Where did she get oranges? I grin. Phloxin: She squeezed her brain.
Me: Phloxin's over there scratching his croth. Crotch. Phloxin: What the hell is a croth? Angel: Is that like Olde English for 'Crotch'? Phloxin: Mine Crothe Doth Itche.
Bri (to Angel): You're white. I promise.
Angel: We go to G's and A's. Me: Okay, I heard "We go to Jesus" Phloxin: You heard Jesus, I heard "T and A's."
Me: You now have a dead drawing cord around your neck. Bri: I remove it.
Angel: Hardness is annoying. Because it means that it's hard.
Phloxin: Squishy-Brie! Bri: I'm not squishy! Phloxin: Your boobs are. Bri: How would you know? Phloxin: I hit them with a water bottle.
Angel: Dammit, my dice are going down my crotch!
Me: How many ways can you make a poker gay in one D&D game?
Jorath: I'm not going to sit on my own fingers. I'm not that curious - I know it hurt the first time!
Phloxin walks over, hugs Jorath. Jorath: Your shorts are all wet now. Phloxin: Yeah, I know. Angel: Damn, that was some hug. Phloxin: I need a cigarette now...
Angel: Who's next? Phloxin: Jo. Me: Didn't you take - Wait a second, what's Jo's turn for? Phloxin: Jo' mama.
Angel: The words 'old lady' and 'vibrator' do not go together in the same sentence. Jefe: Tell that to my grandmother.
Me: You have a nicked poker on a leash...
Jefe: Did the poker come out of a rack? Angel: No, but it might be Iranian. (Say it out loud.)
Jefe: I will take my stick-on-a-rope and lash it to a chair. Me: I am suddenly, inexplicably reminded of Pee-Wee's Playhouse.
Me: Now, the imp has no hardness. Angel: Good. The imp is not hard. Me: It's a limp imp. Jorath: It's flaccid! Me: It's imp-otent...
Phloxin (singing): Flaccid man, flaccid man, doing the things a flaccid man can...
Me: He's better off than he looks. He's just floppy. Angel: We have three beautiful women who can take care of that. Phloxin: And a gnome.
Where's Andolyn: Angel: She's with the calzone. Phloxin: Must be a sausage. Angel: Might be anchovy. Phloxin: She's a lesbian? Me: She's out.
Angel: Let's go kill the calzone.
Jorath: Can I turn the calzone? Me: No, it's apparently a lesbian. Phloxin: A little too done on one side.
Phloxin: I'll assess my cyst...err, assist my sis.
Jefe: Bad! Bad pizza! Bad!
Angel: I give the calzone salmonella.
Phloxin: AC 20 hits God.
Me: The calzone belches. Phloxin: Anchovies must've been bad.
Me: She has Secret page, fire shield, and tongues, but not identify. Jefe: Secret flaming tongues, what?
Angel: E.E. Jazz-hands?
Angel: No, I can't cast fireball, but that's a Beholder, and I bet you didn't know that.