[Micro-Skit] Tomar and the Cartilage-Kid: An OneyPlays hypothetical

Joshua Tomar in, "Tomar and The Cartilage-Kid"

* I N S E R T O N E Y P L A Y S I N T R O H E R E *

*

Rustling in a little corner of the couch, Zach hastily clears the magnum wad of green phlegm from his esophagus

"Hey, uhm, Tomar, what would you do if one morning you woke up to find your beloved wife, Jaxxy, had transformed into a big, fat, bald, skeleton-- wouldn't that make you scream?"

Fixated on playing the game in front of him, Tomar struggles to divert his threatening, beady eyes from the screen

"Uhhh, yeahh, I guess so?"

"Yeah, but why?"

"Well, I mean, if I woke-up and found my wife was turned to a skeleton, I feel like I'd be pretty torn-up by that, if not frightened at the very least."

Disatisfied with Tomar's response, Zach's tongue glides across his dry lips, while fondling his little cryptid-hands, and provokes further

"No-no-no, but Tomar what if this fat, horrendous, bald, revolting, skeleton corpse-bride-wife Jaxxy was pregnant with your precious little marrow-cartilage-ghoul-son-- what would you do?"

"Would you abort it?"

Slightly taken aback, Tomar furrows his singular hairy brow, scratches his dandruff-ridden head, and begins to ponder for a moment

"Well, I mean, is it sentient?"
"I don't know if I would abort it-- who am I to say the baby is like-- based on appearance-- in any way of lesser value than anyone else of some general cognitive-standard just because it's exterior might make the answer to that question seem ambiguous?"

"I mean, what are the moral ramifications for me aborting this hypothetical child of my wife and I?"

Peeling from the lethargic trance of staring at the screen, Chris narrowly pipes-in

"Your fat, bald, skeleton-wife."

With a peaved-squint and a gaping maw, Zach slurps-up his exposed drool, then proposes an ultimatum

"Okay-okay, Tomar, new hypothetical-- if you were put in a situation where you had to save your hypothetical boney-corpse-child, from say, a big beautiful, perfectly rotund brass 9mm boolit, but at the cost of you being permanently paralyzed and debilitated for the rest of your life, would you do it?"

Harnessing the power of the Tomar Emeralds, Tomar scours the extensive depths of his ethereal mind, searching his heart and soul until he's come upon the answer that his purest essence finds to be the epitome of morality, with which he can confront the magnitude of Zach's head-scratcher of a hypothetical, in poise

"Well, I mean, he's my son, right?"

"Regardless of if he's a skeleton or not, I would like to imagine I would be a caring and altruistic enough of a father to not choose the certain security of my own personal well being, over saving the life of my proceeding flesh and blood."

Vaguely conscious from his constant re-cycling into trance-status, Chris mutters deadpan,

"No, just bone."

Putting the power of the Mighty Tomar to the test, Zach tries the iron will of The Immovable Tomar, without fear

"Yeah, but would you really give your life away for some dairy-headed, brittle-boned, calcium-dope, just because he's your son?"

"I mean what kind of mileage are you gonna be able to get on him anyway?"

"How would you even be able to induct a ghoulish little skeleton-child into that globally-renowned child-trafficking ring of yours anyway?"

Roaringly, Chris howls into a hearty chuckle, breaking free from his digital-dreary

With a sly glint in his eye, Zach reaffirms his cheekiness, "I mean really, even for necrophiliac-types, I would imagine that's just too far!"

Tomar's huge, hulking physique begins to gyrate in-tandem with his intermittent chortling

"What are you even talking about?"

Laughing triumphantly, Zach doubles-down,"Your precious, boney, pale, ghoulish little skeleton, child-trafficked offspring!"

Fully awoken from his daze, Chris adds boldy, "The Necrophiliacs are like, 'Erm, I, am, fine, with, filling, corpses, with, my, 2%, milk, but, this, is, simply, too, much, calcium, for, me, personally-- as, a, self-respecting, necrophiliac.' "

Zach lets-out a chuckle-out, " 'As, a, self-respecting, necrophiliac.' "

Chris snickers cheekily, barring big crooked British-teeth, " 'As, a, self-respecting, necrophiliac, this, is, simply, too, much, for me.' "

Clearing the snot from his toucan beak-esque shnozz, Zach straightens himself upright, " 'As, a, self-respecting, necrophiliac, this, is, simply, too, far, past, my, moral, standard, to, partake, in, hermmm.' "
" 'I, just, simply, cannot-- it, is, much, too below, me...' "

Chris sighs with a regain of composure

"Ohhh..."

"..."

"But actually though, shame on you for legitimately child-trafficking, Tomar."

"I DON'T-- WHAT THE FU--"

Chris and Zach collectively lose-it