- Can we speak in subtitles?
- As the werewolf comes leaping into the ring: This guy is incredibly hairy! (Over his shoulder) Mr. Z! Get in here, we need a cameo!
- Note that "El Fantastico" himself is clad in gold Spandex and a sparkly gold cape... Stoned student: Whooooah...the hairy guy is running toward the sparkly guy...this could be interesting... Shortly after: Oh, look. Those nachos I dropped. I stare at them for a while.
- (To the two Spandex-clad Mexican professional Wrestlers - who have somehow managed not to Overcome their Cowardice scores of 3 and 4 (on 2d6) - and are standing staring at the werewolf-pro wrestler wrestling match in panic and terror): Because you are shatting in your total lack pants, these items (various folding chairs, baseball bats, wrenches, etc...) are useless to you.
- (After Z's little brother, for the tenth time, used an allusion to Z's well-known pacing to describe his character's actions): Look, the idea of having Eric at this event just...disturbs me.
- (On finding the remains of an arrow in the trash can):Give me that arrow. It's not an arrow, there's no tip. It's just a shaft. Okay, fine. Just give me the shaft.
- This is a visual joke - I'm not sure how well it will translate, but it sent us into hysterics for a very long time, so I felt the need to include it. It begins with the Mexican wrestling referee counting out "Uno! Dos! Tres! You're out!" at the end of each match. A series of events culminated in someone getting hit in the face with a pant leg. He collapsed out of his chair onto the floor. Someone picks up the plastic chair and upends it, pro-wrestling style, over the wounded party. In unison, all the players: Uno! Dos! Tres! You're out!
- Doctor (lifting up the stoner's eyelids and peering into his eyes): Are you okay? Do you need assistance? Stoner: Uhhh....I can't blink...
- Doctor (a la pulp Westerns): There's a mad scientist; we must go to him! We ride, we ride, we ride!
- (Following a discussion about Mexican transportation in which the players completely fail to note that I've given several of them cars on their Goodies lists...) So, I'm on his mule?
- (There were a lot of Catholic jokes. Our hosts - two of which were playing the priests in their respective sessions - are Catholics.) The priest: I like riding with little boys.
- (To the doctor): You can do that next round. It takes some time to fill your needle with tequila.
- Are you going to set the mummy (injected with the aforementioned tequila) on fire? No, we'll kill him wiith alcohol poisoning. Just have to run around for a couple of hours.
- Priest: Okay, I give the robot last rites.
- (Somehow, "the size of a microwave oven" became "It must be a microwave"...): I want to throw my microwave at the mummy, dangerously close to her (the journalist's) head.
- There are seven bloodthirsty, beautiful, scantily clad women lunging at you. What do you do? I submit!
- (In a fit of quirkiness, I gave one of the professional wrestlers six fingers on his right hand. His player attempted to make rude gestures toward his opponent, provoking the following observation): This (raising third and fourth fingers) is me giving him the finger. I don't know which one is my middle. Well, having six fingers on one hand would make it difficult how to give someone the finger...
- Anyone ever see a werewolf in a full Nelson?
- I'm the head of the church of Jesus Christ the Professional Wrestler!
- It's Mexican professional wrestling - much like Mexican soccer. Journalist: Gosh. Four hundred and twelve people killed in vicious wrestling riot....
- Dude! What is it with stoners and Count Chocula?
- (Priest, to stoner): You're going to grope him (El Fantastico) and they're all going to blame me.
- It's open-mic night at the wrestling arena!
- (The stoner, after everyone else has completely failed to catch the attention of the near-panicked crowd): I'm going to pick up the microphone and fart into it. (GM, after she makes her roll): You have their attention. What are you going to say? (Stoner, realising she doesn't speak Spanish): Uhh....move...su asses....out la puerta....a hora! (Mexican professional wrestler): What? (GM): Wait for the subtitles....
- Wow....Padre been sniffing the holy dust....
- (The constable tells the assembled VC's that "he's going to take him down to the station and book him", referring to the now-defeated werewolf. Apparently, someone misunderstood. Pro wrestler: What? GM: Take him down to the station and book him. What did you think I said? Wrestler: ...Take him down and poke him.... Priest: No, Padre gets first rights on that! Someone else: Only if they dress him in a cassock first....
- Another fit of creativity named the journalist "Maria Olestra" - if you've heard Robin Williams speak on Olestra, this will be at its maximum funniness. Apparently, there's a warning on products containing Olestra: "May cause anal leakage".... What kind of journalist are you? Journalist: One with anal leakage... Stop that! Journalist: I can't - that's the problem. (GM, getting up in mad giggles): Okay, now I have to pee.
- (While interrogating the werewolf, now back in human form, the pro wrestler threatens to shave him bald. Werewolf: Shave away - I will not speak! Wrestler: Have you ever seen a bald werewolf?
- (Villain, regarding being hired by Dracula): He gave me a fortune in Aztec gold coins. Stoner: But he didn't give you any Count Chocula? What a cheap bastard!
- How many valleys are there near Mexico City?
- Man, you got gold, but you don't have cable or cereal? Sounds like you're getting fucked.
- (As the stoner picks up a rock): The stoner is going for the stones...
- (GM): And Count Dracula - (Players, in unison): Chocula! (GM, waving the arrow shaft in their general direction): Plus one Misfortune! No more Chocula!
- (El Fantastico, the Golden-Masked Man, the Heavyweight Champion of All Mexico, due to being under the GM's control and thus subject to the laws of Evil Dice (TM), spends most of the gaming session flat on his butt, failing to grapple, hit, or otherwise contact anyone he attempts to attack - or flat-out unconscious. In summation: He's not much of a wrestler...
- (Randomly, as the players made an effort to use the expressions listed under their "favourite sayings" category on the character sheets): Newt cripes!
- If they had milk, it would be coming out of their noses. But they don't have any. (Pause) Milk, that is. They have noses.
- (The priest, at ringside, made the error of shaking his hot dog hand rather than his walking stick hand at the werewolf. The hot dog consequently flew out and landed in the ring. Later on, the dice and a Very Evil Mastermind decided that he would slip on it and fall on his butt. After a while, around 3 or 4 AM, the session started to slide into the gutter, engendering the following at various moments: He's described as Friar Tuck-esque in build - he gets out of breath going down stairs! What's there to be attracted to? More to love! If you can trip on your hot dog, it's good enough for me...
- Can you put your hot dog between your buns?
- He gets his walking stick and his hot dog confused? Man, that must really hurt when you're hiking.
- Right now, I need to be guarded from behind...
- (Regarding the "Friar Tuck-esque" description): Oh, just call me "Friar Fuck..."
- (They encounter a steam shovel digging holes in the side of a hill. It is worth noting that there are instructions that anyone who wants to see inside the steam shovel has to Overcome Clumsiness or take 12 Lumps from being beaten on by the Steam Shovel. And that every party goes through at least three characters getting knocked unconscious before discovering that there is a "blinking, flashing, whirling metal box about the size of a microwave oven" operating the Steam Shovel. This is the "microwave oven" of note.) It (The steam shovel) is being run by the microwave. Don't you think that's a bit odd? (Ignorance-7 Professional Wrestler:) Hmmm...I'm going to see if this is odd or not. (Rolls dice) Yes, that is odd.
- (The professional wrestler attempts to manoeuvre his car so that the headlights shine down a tunnel, and fails, wedging the car sideways in the narrow valley): Well, that microwave is not going anywhere, now.
- (The priest, in attempting to decide which of four tunnels to go down, spins his crucifix on the ground to use as a sort of random pointer, yielding the following comments): It's a Ouija-fix! Catholic party games: Spin the crucifix!
- (On finding a row of coffins): Let's see if there's dead people!
- (The Priest attempts to sprinkle holy water on a mummy. GM, in response): Now you have a moist mummy.
- Friar Fuck and the Moist Mummy...sounds like a bad porno.
- (Priest): I can get the dead wet...
- He (El Fantastico) has teeth marks on his butt now. (Stoner, wailing): And they're not mine!
- (In conclusion): We've had doorstops more productive than El Fantastico...
Random, from my note margins:
- I would like to prepounce El Villiano, please.
- Are you taking notes (on the wrestling match) for your journal article? Journalist: Oh, yeah. Stuff happens, people fall down, it was pretty cool.
- Player, OOC'ly, to EM): May I ask what happened to the werewolf? (EM):Yes. (Player, turning to the others): What happened to the werewolf? (Note that it changed back into a man Before Their Eyes, and is now lying in front of him in the ring.)
- Knocked senseless -- -- Eaten senseless.
- (Priest, in the werewolf battle): I throw holy water at it. EM: You have a wet werewolf.
- ...the wet werewolf, mind you.
- Female pro-wrestlers: No brains, all bra.
- Doctor: We'll just go to the nearest valley. EM: Rather than asking the prisoner for directions? Someone else: Yeah, screw that.
- The last thing you need to know is whether he stuffs those Spandex briefs.
- You could make a wet vampire! A wampire?
- Those wascally wampires...
- Be wery wery qwiet...we're hunting wampires....
- These are not actually vampires. They're just blood-crazed women with fangs.
- I wake up the wrestler (El Fantastico)- we need some help. Why are you waking up the wrestler?
- Do something useful - don't attack!
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