“No, no, no and definitely no. Also fuck off with your info dumps. Thinking this is even slightly normal makes you the insane one. Not me. Rooms are supposed to be a stable construction WHICH DOESN'T MOVE. I don't care if this realm has magic or not, you don't fuck with the basic concept of a room.”

Intercourse with any structure is highly ill-advised. Of course. The cuts alone would make the hero die from blood loss.

“Exactly! I mean... wait... I have never ever considered any of this, at all. My genitals are solely for childhood friends and the woman with the big bosom.”

The dead ones?

“Well sometimes things get a little bit tough and you take what... I mean NO. Stop putting words in my mouth. What is wrong with you?”

The hero blames the narrator as usual for his own shortcomings and kinks. This narrator does not have any impact on the hero's sexual endeavours. And might one further point out that the queue for the tour is about to close. Here is your poor person's voucher and packed lunch.

“This packed lunch is just a picture of a crudely drawn hand with it's middle finger raised.”

Finger-food for the soul indeed. Now off the hero goes, chop chop.

With a half-smile and an unknowing look he stands in line for the queue towards the evil fantasy castle of evilness. Much like the one in Florida but with better working conditions and less indirect slavery.

“Wait this world has slavery and magic at the same time? Why not just use magic to do all the stuff for us?”

Mostly out of tradition. Sometimes the slaves get to switch for funsies. The house slaves become the field slaves, the field slaves become factory slaves and the factory slaves become a refreshing drink that the field slaves get to enjoy on a warm day.

“I feel you casually slid past a very important detail in that last sentence.”

It's important to recycle, hero. The resources on this planet aren't unlimited you know.

“Still uncomfortable with forcing people to eat people. You know?”

It's an acquired taste. Thankfully there's plenty of slaves to help acquire it. The extra bitterness from the slaves watching their own children be put into slavery adds a certain je ne sais riens.

“Oh god, it just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?”

Well the hero could always add sugar if it's too bitter.

“Is the sugar also made from people?”

Mostly by filtering the blood of diabetic slaves. So in a way, yes.

“I really hate recycling now.”

Nature matters, young hero. You can't just let the next generation solve all of the problems this world has. We have to be proactive when it comes to making more slaves and mashing up their insides for that sweet, tasty sustained source of slave energy. It even has a catchy jingle set to the tune of 'it's a beautiful world'.

~~ A hundred percent organic except for the pockets of mercury we keep finding. Which is two hundred percent organic. Don't wait, buy slave-drink now for that slave-errific taste. Comes in small, medium and Martin Luther King-size. Buy two and get your next slave-drink for free. ~~

“Ya'll need superjesus. Christ man, what is wrong with this world.”

The author really likes grimdark stories. But also funny ones. Combining both interests has been... problematic for many people and many reasons.

All of a sudden a loud bang was heard from where the mid-evil camera was placed. A wall gained eyes and a mouth, stood up and moved towards the party.

“I am SICK and TIRED that you two bastards keep breaking me.”

The hero looked on reproachfully and craned his neck to see the top of the wall that came to life.

“Does all the architecture come to life nowadays?”

“Only when you keep breaking the fourth fucking wall. Which is me. Really fucking hate you guys, I did absolutely nothing against either of you. And if you don't stop this bullshit then I'll break both of you myself.”

To make an example, the fourth wall grabbed the room of acquirement and crushed it between his brick layers.

“Are you calling me fat, boy?”

Correction, between it's thin and highly polished brick layer.

“Better. Now both of you stop this crap and get on the fucking ride to the evil castle of whateverness.”

Mental note made, never piss off the fourth wall again.

“Agreed.”

The hero was bumped ahead of the queue and was allowed to ride the short bus towards the castle. As he sat down he looked up at the invisible narrator. Why? Nobody knows. Perhaps another kink.

“Thanks for the idiot joke, idiot. Really needed that right now. Still, I'm not gonna have to pay for that room of acquisition, right? I didn't crush it.”

Room of acquirement and no. Not to worry. Another one will be here shortly with a fresh batch of dying childhood friends.

“Gonna be honest, it feels weird that this many people feel the need to commit suicide on my path towards glory. Is this another acquired taste?”

No, this is a prime example of acquired incompetence. That was added to the innate incompetence and the incompetence ground together through dumb luck.

“No way I could be incompetent at being incompetent, right?”

Is the hero certain he wants to divide by zero when the fourth wall is so close by? Restarting any system might end up with a new recycling target.

“I'll euh... I'll be good.”

That's a good little hero. Now on your right you'll see the rest of the town. The witches caverns that produce a new witch every second turn if you're in possession of the horn of plenty. Next to it is the mine where we employ mostly children and behind that you'll find a butcher shop specialising in fresh meat-cuts.

“So euh... just how much does this city recycle?”

A hundred and ten percent.

“Euhm... where do you get the extra ten percent?”

This city has a very successful inmate exchange program. That and elves of course. Always those blasted elves. Juicy, sexy elves.

…

…

…

“Ok.”

Hmmm, supple, young elf-meat.

“Please stop. I'm sorry I asked in the first place.”