Editing Old Man Henderson (section)

==Director's Cut Part 1==
''Anonymous 07/29/12(Sun)02:09 No.20082449

:''Just want to say, WHM actually posted a continuation to Old Man Henderson.
:''Shit's whack.
:''Search for Eli Burning (I believe) on [desuarchive/warosu].

'' A Self Called 'Nowhere' 07/29/12(Sun)02:52 No.20082857

:''He never actually posted more than a quick summary of it actually.

:''Also, for those of you curious as to whether or not Old Man Henderson was 'real'... Yes, yes it was. I was there, I was the Professor and like 15 other fucking people.

:''Because Henderson had no concept of 'collateral damage' or 'inside voice'.

:''The whole and complete story was fucking crazy, because crazy shit was happening in and out of game, and he only gave you guys a 'highlights reel'. I might end up story-timing the whole thing. even though I'm not as eloquent as him. Seriously, I read the backstory of doom. What he told you about it does not do it justice.

WHM tends to get emotionally attached to a well-made character. To him they're the means of exploring a story, and a good story is something he thinks the very foundations of modern society are based on. He doesn't mind a 'bad end' so long as it's legitimate.

Botched a roll at a bad time? Shit happens.
Bad choice, in character? Meant to be.
Simply screwed by circumstance? Them's the shakes.
'LOL you're dead because you actually disagreed with my self-insert fetish-fuel character with two katanas!'? I actually had to stop him from choking the fat bastard.

Which might make him sound like a bad person, ruled by petty emotion, but the truth is he's like a bear: normally quite chill. Not that easy to piss off normally. So he doesn't move often, but when he does... Things like Henderson happen.

It was the fifth session of the game with an 'experienced' GM, using 'Trail of Cthulhu' (a small distinction on the whole, but one worth mentioning in my eyes) and he'd already lost three characters. To the STUPIDEST shit.

Seriously, the last one some evil force put a curse on him, and he ended up being killed by a horse.

Falling out of an airplane.

Yeah.

So the GM goes to grab the pizza, since it was his turn to pay, and I could feel the room cooling slightly. WHM's expression never changed, he never looked at me or the other two guys. "I know you're thinking about leaving, but I want you to stay. I want you to watch what I'm going to do."

I knew this was bad, because while he can get frustrated mad (which is hilarious by the way, he makes a choking noise in the back of his throat like a murlock caught in a trash compactor), when he gets TRULY pissed, he gets calm.

We continue for the evening, and about a week later, we come back. He's giving me a ride, and he looks like he hasn't slept in two days, and the stubble is almost, but not quite, into gangly half-beard territory.

"I've done something. I'm not sure it's a good thing yet." he says as he hands me the little binder thing he keeps his character sheets and notes in.

"You've done something?" I ask, as I take the folder from him.

"I.... created? No, created is the wrong term. I feel like it was already there, waiting for me to give it life. I put a thing on paper, and I'm bringing it down on that fat fuck like the wrath of god."

"Uh huh." I say, as I look at the sheet. "Is Henderson his first or last name?"

"I don't even fucking know."

So then I look at the stack of paper he called a backstory. I start reading it, and I'm immediately fascinated by what can only be called a tome of madness.

It switched perspectives and tone wildly, at one point it's written with stage directions in the form of a script. At one point it went to GERMAN.

I know for fact he only knows like two words in German, while I'm kinda fluent.

The German was in his hand, and it was grammatically flawless.

I find my voice.

"What?"

"Been asking that myself. All fucking day."

So we get to the game, and the GM asks what we're all doing.

Detective Guy's drinking alone at his desk, waiting for one of his contacts to get back to him.

Jimmy, the jock type, is struggling with math homework.

My character, Professor Filkins, is grading mid-terms.

Then we get the introduction to Henderson. He's sitting in a lawn-chair in his house, smoking a bong, staring at a wall he painted to look like a Hawaiian beach. "You know, Rupert?" He addresses the stuffed parrot currently resting on the arm of his chair. "You're a good friend. Most people would've asked for a hit, but you know how much I love this shit. Way better than what we had back in 'Nam." he chuckles, and then begins reminiscing "You know, I still remember the first time I got high. Back of my Older brother's van. Know it musta been some good shit too, because I'm an only child. Ain't that right, Charles?" He looks over to an empty corner of the room.

".... Charlie?" He then gets up, mildly concerned. "Man, what the hell?" He begins to search the house in earnest, before sitting down on a chair in his kitchen. "Where the fuck are my lawn gnomes? I mean, did somebody steal them? Who the fuck would steal them? Yeah, they're worth a lot, but come on." He then pulls out a sharpie and begins to scribble on the table. "Alright, 215 gnomes, total weight about 800 pounds, total value approaching 40 k. Not a one man job. Need help to carry them, need help to sell them. I'm looking at a large and well organized group of assholes."

He looks into the middle distance. "Like those guys down the street? They're Mormons, right? Large religious group, come around in the early morning like those damned charlies.... Rupes, I think we've got a lead." And then he poured a bottle of Jack Daniel's in a large go-cup, and went and got in his car.

Before I get back to the rest of the party, it should be noted that Henderson looks a lot like Jeff Bridges of today. So imagine all of his lines in that voice. Because that's the voice we were treated to at the table.

Anyway, I've had the lead on a cult meeting for a while, and I managed to get an invite. I'm sitting in the front row, listening to a passionate Arab man talking about how there's more to the world than we know. Despite myself, I'm intrigued.

Jimmy is sitting outside, thinking about his friends and trying to decide if he should go in and talk to them or what.

The detective's gotten his call-back, and is now watching the scene with interest.

A battered '92 Buick Century fails to get their attention until it suddenly executes a perfect handbrake turn and parks at the curb.

Back to Henderson's point of view, he's blasting Creedence Clearwater Revival when suddenly he sniffs the air and says 'Mormons' before whipping around and parking out front and killing the car.

He then gets out of the car, and pops the trunk. In full view of the detective, he then shoves 'Lurid Lucy', an inflatable sex toy of exceptional quality, to one side and pulls out some sort of Israeli-made combat shotgun and starts walking towards the house.

He then kicks open the door while our mouths are agape and shouts the words that let us know the game would never be the same.

"MUCKLE DARMED CULTISTS! 'AIR YOU NAMBLIES KEEPIN' ME WEE MEN?!?"

So at this point the GM has not yet realized what Henderson IS. In fact, I think I'm the only one who truly understood what was about to happen to existential horror, as at this point in time...

Here's another fun fact about WHM: When he's at a game table with a character sheet, you aren't at the table with him. You're at the table with whatever character he's playing until further notice. I don't think he could've meta-gamed if he tried.

So anyway, the GM has decided to regain control the only way he knows how: By killing Mike's latest character via bullshit. So he summons a shoggoth.

Henderson, having passed the will check to not puke up his brains, and winning the initiative, comments on how it's the UGLIEST fucking poodle EVER oh god, and then shoots it in the fucking face until it dies. Then he shoots the cultist guy who summoned it. Then he shoots me, then a random guy, then he pisses on the shoggoth's corpse since everyone else is too busy losing their shit in a panic over the Creature That Should Not Be being summoned, and casually sets the tapestry on fire with his cigar as he walks out the door.

So then everyone still alive runs the fuck away from the burning building before the cops show up. Henderson makes it home (about three blocks away) when he realizes something horrible.

He totally fucking forgot about the lawn gnomes.

He RUNS back to the still burning building, only to see the fire department has already arrived. They inform him that no gnomes were in the building that they can tell.

On the one hand, he's relieved as fuck since he didn't lose the gnomes, and killing that many little people would probably constitute a hate crime.

Never mind that he totally just leveled a church with the speed and brutality of the fucking Spetsnaz.

Anyway he goes to try and cook up where they could have gone at the local pub.

The GM at this point looks up at us from his notes. He's clearly been thrown so far off the fucking tracks by what just happened that he can't just improv his way out of it. "I... I think I need a minute. Or ten."

He amscrays, and I look over to the man I thought I knew. He has his cell-phone out, and is asking us if we're cool with Chinese food since we had pizza last week.

"What the fuck was that?" Asks one of our fellow players.

"Remember when I said I was getting revenge? I brought out the big guns. I don't even have the small guns anymore. I was given some once, and promptly returned them. 'Won't be needin' these' I said. Hello, (Chinese food place I forget the name of)? You still got that special on the shrimp fried rice?"