Tears don’t come easy for me most of the time, but I just had to lower my best friend Ryan in the ground today. We met when we were boys and the two of us did everything together. I thought we always would. I suppose it was greedy to think things would never change, or that we wouldn’t die until we were old men living together in the same neighborhood where we grew up. But the fact is he’s gone now, and he’s never coming back. That is, unless I have sex with every woman at this bar and fulfill the Kor’lith Resurrection Ritual.
Back in high school we found the Sumerian Book of the Dead in a chest buried in his backyard that called to us with the sound of thunderous tribal drumbeats. We naively read aloud the texts and unknowingly set into motion the summoning of the Demon Azlaak on the condition that one of us dies before our 27th birthday. The only way to prevent his entry to the mortal realm and revive Ryan is for me to have sex with every woman at this bar, tonight.
Am I technically exploiting my dead friend and the knowledge of fate to sleep with women? Yes. Will I also save the world in doing so? Yes. Does this explain the shades of grey that is life? I think so.
My sacred task must be completed before the stroke of midnight, so that Ryan can rise on the third night of his passing under the fourth and final tetrad of the Blood moon cycle. That means I’ve got three hours, and my last head count netted thirty-six females. That gives me five minutes with each woman, which will entail me introducing myself, informing them of the situation, and then having consensual sex. Plus, Azlaak made it clear that I must satisfy every partner. As if I didn’t have enough performance anxiety.
Yes, I am the one who locked all the doors with 2” chains and master locks. I understand it’s a fire hazard and all but I really can’t have anyone escape. If I don’t complete my assignment then Ryan is never coming back. Also, if I fail, Azlaak will crack the Earth open and the demon world known as Tlikara will merge with our own, and we all will be doomed to suffer the tortuous hellscape for all eternity.
So, what do you say, Mr. Bartender, you gonna wingman me or what? Also, I think I’m gonna keep my tab open.