Covile sighed in disappointment as he looked at the upcoming raid schedule for the release Tier 2 in Legion – Hyjal along with the Black Temple were slated for release in 7.1 pre-release notes. He didn’t understand how Blizzard could get away with recycling old content, seeing that Legion shipped with Karazhan being the raid released with the initial expansion. And given that Illidan was now on their side after being defeated in the Burning Crusade expansion 5 releases ago, nothing made much sense anyways. Maybe next expansion they’d travel forward in time to kill the new Lich King.

Regardless of the story line or lack of one, Covile was thankful for a number of reasons. First and foremost his idol Bernie Sanders had been elected supreme leader of the United States, implementing massive sweeping reforms in regards to not just healthcare and punishing businesses but rewarding all citizens with a Universal Basic Income, allowing Covile to pursue a fulltime career of tanking and shit posting as he saw fit. A proper society with socialized benefits and welfare, one to make his Canadian friends jealous. And to make his money go even farther, he had moved in with his awesome buddy Booty in a small 420 square foot studio apartment in Kansas City, Missouri.

The apartment was a bit smaller than he was used too; the bathroom was cramped and there was barely enough room between the undersized toilet and the half sized shower which offered no comfort for satisfying a healthy young man’s needs. The kitchen had even less amenities with single burner over a non-functioning oven but at least the apartment complex owners had though to include a small microwave, even if they could only reheat half a Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pocket at a time.

Since both Booty and Covile were Rank One raiders they needed room for their computers and decided to opt with a bunkbed configuration. Unfortunately Booty had skimped on the bunkbed, grabbing one off Craiglist last minute made of cheap metal that squeaked violently whenever someone moved. Covile would have preferred the bottom bunk but Booty’s tall 6’2” frame would have been even more cramped on the top bunk so Covile decided to take one for his bro and claimed the top for his own. One arrangement Covile found convenient was the hanging of bedsheets between the bunkbed and the computer desks; this allowed for privacy for when someone had the urge to release their hormonal needs. Thankfully the bunkbed Booty had found came with some bedsheets of Spongebob and the 101 Dalmatians so there was no need to scrounge up any makeshift dividers.
A growing squeaking sound came from beyond the curtain where Booty was supposedly fast asleep as Covile removed his headphones. He could barely make out the sound of Booty’s vigorous act of self-love making over the squeaking the bunkbed made. There was an unspoken taboo of wearing headphones whenever possible since the apartment was a small 420 square feet but no amount of Grime music could drown out the noise. Covile couldn’t help but imagine the squeaking as a cry of non-consent from the bunkbed being constantly abused.

Normally Covile would have put his headphones back on and turned up Bugzy Malone’s Pain but he felt the oddest sense of curiosity. The bunkbed was moving too much for Booty to be on the bottom where he belonged…

Covile ripped the bedsheets apart to see Booty’s face light up with shame as he was caught in the top bunk underneath a blanket of Spongebob and Patrick Star holding hands in a field of jellyfish, underneath his blanket.

“What the fuck are you doing mate?!” Covile screamed at Booty as he jumped out of his chair and almost hit the bed’s frame with his forehead.

“Suh dude, I’m almost done here, just close the curtains and we can talk about it later,” Booty said out of breath and blusing.

“Get the fuck out of my bed!”

Reluctantly Booty began to pull his boxers from around his ankles up to his waist; under the covers Covile had to admit it made Booty look like he was doing the worm, albeit horribly. While shifting under the covers a magazine fell out onto the floor, facedown. Covile’s eyes widened into a horrified gaze as he read the title: Good Housekeeping.

“How could you?!” Covile gasped. Their eternal and supreme leader Bernie Sanders had outlawed Good Housekeeping due to being misogynist and regressive.

“I can’t watch another minute of cuck porn, or any culturally sensitive porn that forbids fetishes besides pegging, it just ain’t me mate!” Booty cried indignantly.

“It’s not my fault you appropriated people’s culture through you fetishes of jungle fever and MILFs – you need to learn how to check your privilege and be thankful there are those smarter than us who can tell us what’s okay to jerk off too and what’s not,” Covile replied. “Wait, why were you in my bed to begin with?”

Booty’s head dropped in submission as he sighed but did not speak. Covile pushed past him and threw off the covers for his bed to find a copy of Crippled America by Donald Trump closed. Covile grabbed the book in a fit of rage but dropped it immediately as he saw the pages were all stuck together.

“How could you read the false lies and hateful speech of the outlawed hate spewing asshole?” Covile cried.

“His name is Donald Trump and he’s going to…” Booty was cut off by Covile

“Do not say his name in here, not in the safe space, not in this house we built together!” Covile yelled at Booty.

“No, I’ve had enough of this, I’ve had enough watching cuck porn and people in green spandex suits fucking with strap-ons. I can’t take this anymore, the other day I watched a plumber scene where the only pipe that got fixed was the male’s pipe, and you know what, I got off more than I have in as long as I could remember,” Booty pleaded, “I miss finding pleasure in the things I wanted too.”

“I have no more word for you,” Covile said sternly, “I’m turning you in to the Politically Correct and Sensitivity Awareness Unisex Cis-Taskforce.”