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How I met your Mother:
Jan. 4th, 2014 02:15 am
Jan. 4th, 2014
Mole Man Gil
Jan. 4th, 2014 03:59 amIs there anything sadder in this world, or beneath it, as a mole man with claustrophobia and who also happens to be afraid of the dark?
Such was the case of Mole Man Gil. Unable to partake in the subterranean rituals of his people, nor join them when terrorizing surface dwellers or waging tribal warfare against neighboring CHUDS, Gil was banished by the mole men elders and exiled to the surface world.
One forced to dwell amongst the surface dwellers taking the only job available to a scaled subsurface reptile man that communicated solely through grunts and waves of his webbed hands - the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Here Gil thrived in the comparatively open spaces and soul draining fluorescent bulbs. In no time at all he was promoted to assistant supervisor and had obtained a number of potential surface dweller mates thanks to the miracle the humans called 'alcohol'.
Tragedy struck however when Gil was mistaken for a surface dweller by a pack of teenage mole men and was subsequently terrorized for kicks. Gil, thinking the kids were part of a mole man posse to drag him back to the tribe to stand punishment for his surface dweller ways, fought them off as best he could.
Things quickly got out of hand and Gil was torn apart ruthlessly by the pack of young mole men. Yet with the last of his waning strength, he cast his gaze towards the open sky above and knew the peace that had eluded at long last.
Gil's funeral was well attended by many a DMV worker and bar fly, few were the dry eyes and many the kind words of this gentle reptilian from beneath the surface of the earth that he dread so much.
Such was the case of Mole Man Gil. Unable to partake in the subterranean rituals of his people, nor join them when terrorizing surface dwellers or waging tribal warfare against neighboring CHUDS, Gil was banished by the mole men elders and exiled to the surface world.
One forced to dwell amongst the surface dwellers taking the only job available to a scaled subsurface reptile man that communicated solely through grunts and waves of his webbed hands - the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Here Gil thrived in the comparatively open spaces and soul draining fluorescent bulbs. In no time at all he was promoted to assistant supervisor and had obtained a number of potential surface dweller mates thanks to the miracle the humans called 'alcohol'.
Tragedy struck however when Gil was mistaken for a surface dweller by a pack of teenage mole men and was subsequently terrorized for kicks. Gil, thinking the kids were part of a mole man posse to drag him back to the tribe to stand punishment for his surface dweller ways, fought them off as best he could.
Things quickly got out of hand and Gil was torn apart ruthlessly by the pack of young mole men. Yet with the last of his waning strength, he cast his gaze towards the open sky above and knew the peace that had eluded at long last.
Gil's funeral was well attended by many a DMV worker and bar fly, few were the dry eyes and many the kind words of this gentle reptilian from beneath the surface of the earth that he dread so much.
