Envy

Dear Ratface,

Sometimes I sure wish I was you. Or at least lived in your world. Like today for example. This person of authority was being really really stupid. They were making me very very angry. I would have really liked to have been able to throw them under a train. But society is far to civilized to allow that sort of behavior. -Envious

Dear Envious,

It might come as a surprise but I don't kill everyone who pisses me off. Stupid people have their uses. Meat shields, for one. Give the bad guys something to shoot at besides myself. Useful. Here's a little thought I find useful when dealing with some armored freak who's been hit in the head with blunt objects a few too many times: In a few hours you won't be angry any more, but they'll still be stupid. -Ratface

Oxymoron

Dear Ratface,

Now that fourth edition is available, I was wondering. What's it like to be a washed up has been? There are no barbarians in fourth edition. Nor are there half-orcs. There are still rogues. But they're very different beasts. Are you some sort of shade now? Relegated to satirical comic references to previous once loved games? -Smarmy

Dear Smarmy,

I've got your satire right here, boy. Come get it. Rest assured. You can sleep soundly at night knowing that I am exactly what I have always been. Except now I prowl for you. -Ratface

2nd Breakfast

Dear Ratface,

Do you like killing people? If not, what is your favorite thing? -Morbid

Dear Morbid,

Do you like sitting your fat ass in an over-airconditioned cubicle? Nah, it's just something I'm good at that pays well. Hell, I'd just as soon play classical guitar. Seriously though, my favorite thing has to be second breakfast. And no, not them berry filled tart things. What? I look like a halfling to you? Second breakfast is when you hunt your prey. You wait for it to make its kill. They you make yours. You cut open its belly. Real careful like so you don't accidentally nick its stomach. Which you liberate and tie off both ends. Put it in your pack. It'll keep all day. When you get hungry, pull it out. Make a slit in the side. Open it up so it's now sorta bowl shaped. Shovel the yummy bits into your pie hole. Delicious. Enjoy. -Ratface

Pancakes

Dear Ratface,

I was at the Squat-n-Gobble yesterday, and the waiter brought me pancakes without any butter. I asked for butter, and he apologized and quickly brought plenty. How would you have handled the situation. -Hot Cakes

Dear Hot Cakes,

Pancakes are a breakfast food. The ritual of breakfast is traditionally observed in the morning. A time when Ratface has better things to do. Much better things to do. Like sleep. I don't really give a rat's fart if there's butter on my pancakes or not. But let's say for the sake of discussion a server in a fine dining establishment screwed up my order and didn't bring me butter on my pancakes. I woulda grabbed that fool's hand and smacked it down on the table. No butter, says I. Then I quickdraw a dagger and stab it through the guys hand deep into the table. Then says I, go fetch me some butter boy. And while he's standing there stuck and squealin I slowly pull out an axe and take careful aim at his wrist. I'm betting they get free right about then. And for added amusement, I'd wolf down the pancakes before they could bring the butter. Mop up the guy's blood with em. Delicious, says I. -Ratface

Dwarfism

Dear Ratface,

Please take pity on all the people in the world afflicted with dwarfism. They suffer horrific physical deformities from this genetic aberration. They should be put out of their misery. I'm sure you'd agree. And you have the skills and tools to do so. -Better Than

Dear Better Than,

First, I don't work for free. So cough up the dough, Mac. Second, Dwarves got their uses. They make great meat shields. And the gods seem to like em. Pious little buggers. So they make good clerics. Third, take pity on all the people in the world afflicted with foot-in-mouth-ism. They suffer horrific physical deformities. Most notably the one from which the disease takes its name. -Ratface

Work

Dear Ratface,

My employer asked everyone to come in to work this weekend. The request went out on friday afternoon. I was kinda torqued. I mean, I had plans. What would Ratface do? -Overworked

Dear Overworked,

Get drunk. Torch the place. -Ratface

Training

Dear Ratface,

I ride the train to work every day. Coming home today the train was close to full. There were several empty seats. But by empty I mean they were occupied by someone's stuff. Everyone pretended they couldn't see me. I was too polite to yell at anyone. Even though I wanted to. So I stood. What would Ratface do? -Sore Feet

Dear Sore Feet,

Oh Ratface might say something simple like, "Move." If they don't budge grab there stuff and toss it off the train. Problem solved. Most likely though they'll free up the seat. At this point, smile. Chuckle a little if you're so inclined. Then say, "You misunderstood. 'Move' doesn't mean, 'Please move your stuff.' 'Move' means, 'Change seats. Now.'" -Ratface

Line Cutters

Dear Ratface,

I was waiting in line at the amusement park when a group of kids jumped the railings and cut in line in front of everyone. I got so mad. I was too mad to decide if I should beat up the kids or the dumbass that let them cut in front without even saying a word. What would you have done? -Made to Wait

Dear Made to Wait,

Heh. Well, your first mistake was waiting in line behind people who would let you cut in front of them. Now, hypothetically, if I was waiting in line and some kids were brave enough, read stupid enough, to cut in front of me, I wouldn't say anything either. I've made a fairly lucrative career out of killing silently. It's an extraordinarily useful skill with all sorts of unexpected applications. -Ratface

Whine

Dear Ratface,

What type of wine should I have with a fish and red sauce meal? The fish calls for white, but the red sauce calls for red. I'm stuck! Please help, my partner is coming over for dinner any minute. -Winer

Dear Winer,

Skip the fish and the sauce red white blue or otherwise. Go for red wine. Followed by white wine. Followed by more red. Then more white. -Ratface

Fatties

Dear Ratface,

I know this guy who's hugely immensely obese. I'm always tempted to say, "Hi Fatty!". Have you ever engaged in the activity known as fat paddling? Is it as much fun as it sounds? - Wabalawabala

Dear Wabalawabala,

Hugely immensely obese? Ha! I had a job once involving a king. A hugely immensely obese king. In the vernacular. I was gonna get paid extra if it looked like an accident. As opposed to an axe-ident. If you catch my meaning. So there I was hiding in the royal bedchambers waiting for them to wheel the king's bed in from the throne room. No lie. The guy was so fat he never left his bed. They just moved it around with him on it. Eventually, he chased away all the servants. Except the queen. He tells her she talks to much and gives her a look. She gives him a look right back. And a big ole sigh. Then she starts rootin' around at the bottom of this mountain of flesh. He's quite distracted. And she can't see a thing behind this wall of blubber. So i just stroll up. Grab one of his chins. And wrap it over his face. Not exactly fat paddling. But whatever. He's finished. She's finished. I'm finished. Problem was. It looked too natural. The customer needed a little persuasion to cough up the bonus. If you catch my meaning. -Ratface

Rouge

Dear Ratface,

So what's it like to be a barbarian rouge in real life? -Bad Speller

Dear Bad Speller,

Rouge is makeup for your face. It's the base layer stuff they smear on your corpse to keep it from looking like a corpse. I'm a rogue. And I like it. Thank you very much. It's sort of a rat eat rat world. Kinda crowded labor force if you catch my meaning. Unless of course you're the big rat. Good luck with that. -Ratface

Why?

Dear Ratface,

Why are you such an asstard? -Curious.

Dear Curious,

Why are you such a beautiful corpse? Ha ha. Nah seriously, meet me in my office at 3 am. It's in the dark forbidding alley behind the Squat 'n' Gobble. I'll explain it to you in as great a detail as you wish. Bring coin. Lots of coin. -Ratface.

War

Dear Ratface,

I'm a soldier in a war that people think is unjust. What do I do? -Shaky Soldier

Dear Shaky,

Suck it up. You took the man's coin. You do his job. He's not paying you to think. He's especially not paying you to engage your schizo imaginary selves in some morality ethics debate. You're a freaking soldier for crying out loud. He's paying you kill people. Kill who he tells you to. When that job's done come home and kill whoever you want. If you don't have the guts for it - pay me. I'll do the killing for you. If you can afford me. Which I doubt, soldier. -Ratface

Blockers

Dear Ratface,

Some otherwise nice but oblivious people were blocking the aisle through the store. I excused myself politely and waited patiently for them to notice me. But it took a while. In fact, I think they had finished their business and were actually just moving on. What should I have done. -Feeling Ignored.

Dear Feeling Ignored,

This is what Ratface calls a 'mistake'. Say in a strong voice, "You will get of the way. Right now." Give them a split second to take in your toothsome mug. If they don't high tail it right then, quickdraw your greataxe, rage, and sneak attack their heads from their shoulders. Then turn to the stunned onlookers and put a sort of puzzled innocent look on your face. Say, "Oh, did you think that was a request?" I guarantee, they will not make that mistake again. -Ratface

Retard

Dear Ratface,

The barber shop was full. This big guy walks in. It didn't look like he needed a haircut. Every time a chair became available he jumped up and started shouting. Take me next! Take me next! Sometimes he even jumped into the chair. No tip for you. The stylists laughed nervously. And eventually talked him out of the barber chair and back to the waiting chair. He obviously had mental issues. Like understanding the idea he needs to wait his turn. But he was a big guy and kinda scary. What should I do? -Long Hair.

Dear Long Hair,

Kick the crap out of that retard. Obviously, whatever special education program he came from failed. A little school of hard knocks might do him some good. The harder the knock the better as far as I'm concerned. Certainly don't reward his anti-social behavior. Or I'll knock the crap out of you. -Ratface.

MySpace

Dear Ratface,

I met this woman on MySpace. Her page says she's 19 and divorced. We met in real life and she said she just turned 18. She wants to have sex. What should I do? - Not-so-sure.

Dear Not-so-sure,

Yer fucked. She's underage. Or she's your kid's schoolteacher. Either way she's a lying tramp. Crazy biatches are born. Not made. Fuck her. Then fuck her again. If she's underage you're fucked anyway. The lawman's gonna getcha. Lawman won't care if she showed you fake ID. Yer fucked. Fuck her. And if you're not gonna fuck her. Gimmer url. I'll fuck her - Ratface.