 Alright guys, look, I'm... I want to clarify before I show you something. It's Movenber, okay? It's for a good cause. I know it doesn't look great, but you're gonna have to cut me some slack. What's your good booktube? My name's Cameron, welcome back to another video. Today is a goddamn snack of a video, okay? That's snack with a double C, okay? Not with a CK. That's a snack. It's a goddamn treat of a video because guess what? It's another Wattpad's wildest. Every now and then I will bless you with a video where we explore some of Wattpad's finest literature. For example, in the last video we read a story about a bad boy erotic Jesus Christ. So that was a... That was a thing that happened. And if you aren't already following me on Wattpad, maybe you should be. That's Cam Wolfpad. Now, I was having a bit of trouble actually thinking of how we could top an erotic Jesus Christ fan fiction because that's a pretty high bar. I think you can agree. And I was staring at my Wattpad profile and I realized that there's something that's really missing there. Just something that every good Wattpad user should actually have. And I don't have a collection of my favorite fan art. Maybe, but that's not exactly what I'm talking about in this one. No, no, no, no. What we needed was some of my game changing, writing my guy. Written by Cam Wolfpad. Wolfpad. I'm not going to use my name on my Wattpad, especially considering the story you're about to hear about. I figured a different pen name was probably the way to go. So the decision was made. I would be writing my own Wattpad story for the next Wattpad's Wildest and go to that saying it was going to be a weird one. But I didn't just want to do it the old fashioned way. I decided I would need some help. Help from you guys. So I called in the cavalry and boy did you show. So what I did is I went on the community section of my YouTube channel. I'm pretty active there in terms of asking for input from you guys for videos. As far as booktube goes, this is a pretty interactive channel with the audience. Anyway, I asked for some help there and I asked via Twitter as well at Cam Wolfshot. And what I asked was for you to give me some buzzwords. Just a quick word or idea or theme, place, person, anything at all. Just something simple and to the point that I could include in the story or use as a plot device or a location or an idea for the story. Basically, this was going to be a story that we would all be writing together. What could possibly go wrong when you put together the collective creative minds of the audience of this channel for a Wattpad story? Anyway, do you want to know how many suggestions I got? Over 100 suggestions. So with that in mind, obviously I couldn't include all of them. That's just physically impossible. That's it. I just can't. But I want you to know I really did do my best. So I'm sorry if yours doesn't show up in the story. So anyway, I did it. I went through it mathematically, basically with my genius level intellect. And I picked out all of the best ones or not even just necessarily the best ones. Just the ones that would work together. You know, the ones that the ones I could mix together. And what I ended up with. Well, it's something. Anyway, that's how we got to where we are now. And yes, I'm going to read the story for you. Are you ready kids? Yeah. Are you sure? Yeah. Are you sure? Yes. Whiskey Frisky by Cam Wolfpad. Seth had seen all manner of odd and unusual people from behind the counter of Whiskey Frisky. They had a reputation of stocking the most bizarre products he could find from any sex store in California. And yet, despite being situated in the central hub of Hollywood Boulevard, business was always slow. On this particular day, Seth had found himself paused in time, a spoonful of his dangerously sugary cereal raised to his lips and dripping into his lap. His eyes were locked, paralyzed even on the hypnotically grotesque butt crack of the hairiest man he had ever seen. The stranger was perched precariously on the balls of his swollen feet, bent over a shelf of what folks in the biz affectionately called pussy pockets. Every bead of sweat rolling into the rotund man's cavernous moist crease was another reason for Seth to not finish feeding himself the breakfast treat pressed to his lips. Gross, he groaned as his legs slid from the counter, jolting him back to reality. There was one other customer in the store, lingering by the corner and palming through the sleeves of roleplay costumes. She had picked one out and had it tucked under her arm. Judging by the splash of purple across the front, it was the Barney one. Yup, that's Barney, the dinosaur, right? There's something for everyone at Whiskey Frisky, or so they would have you believe. The tall woman was mouthing along to the old pop jam blasting from the speakers, Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody, but kept throwing anxious glances up at Seth from over the shelves. Something any other store clerk may have found suspicious, but within these walls, shame or embarrassment were all too easy to spot. Just this one. The man's gravelly voice gave Seth his second shock in less than a minute, and he swiveled in his chair to see the hairy man had finally made his pick. He slapped a pink box onto the counter and dropped a handful of sweat-claysed coins beside it, with a musical clatter of metal on wood. Would you like a bag? Seth said, hesitantly scooping the coins into his hand and dropping them into the register as if they were burning his palm. Nah, the man replied. He noisily sucked back God knows what in his throat and collected his, Martha's magical, vibrating muff 240 with disturbing enthusiasm. Have a nice day, Seth mumbled half-heartedly, watching his only two customers exit the store into the blinding light with what was probably a very beautiful Saturday evening. He had planned to spend the weekend knee-deep in saltwater and sand, scoping out LA's most physically gifted from behind the safety of a pair of reflective sunglasses. Instead, he was here, keeping Hollywood's not-so-gifted, stocked up on vibrators and flashlights. At the very least, he could treat himself to a smoke break. Yozel, Seth called. Nothing, not even a shuffle in response from the back room. The old man was probably asleep. He was damn near nocturnal, but then who wasn't in the city? Even from behind his shade, Seth felt his eyes flinch against the sunlight, blinding him for a solid minute as he fumbled to light his cigarette. The warmth was welcome at least, not that the inside of the store was anything less than a sweltering sweatbox in its own, one thing Seth had come to learn about Los Angeles is that nothing quite complements a wave of afternoon heat like the smell of ocean and cheap cuisine. He closed his eyes and gave an indulgent moan as the deliciously hot cigarette smoke sneaked through his throat and crept from his nostrils and white tendrils. Chorus lines of street performers and celebrity impersonators were dancing, marching and swaggering along the street, reaching for every passerby like a wave of flamboyantly dressed parasites. Five bucks for a photo champ if mom's feeling generous, said a surprisingly convincing Donald Trump. Oh look, that's working Mario's back too. Nice, happy Halloween, the young man muttered. Something else caught Seth's eye. Two men were marching purposefully towards the store from across the road, weaving between cars and ignoring the frustrated honks of the drivers. Get off the road you fucking morons! They were dressed in dark jackets, a suspicious choice for the current climate and had their caps pulled low over their faces. Ah shit, Seth hissed, blowing the smoke from his mouth and flicking his smoke to the wind. He rushed backwards into the store and ducked behind the counter, wrenching open a drawer. Sell you old prick, we have company! He yelled, still no reply. Within a heartbeat the men were inside and towering over the young man and his toppled box of cereal. We need to do it again, one of the men said in a husky mockney accent. Seth sighed and slammed the drawer shut. You sure about that, Jason? The men on the left looked around cautiously, checking for any other store browsers before, removing his cap to reveal his glistening bald skull. It had been more than a decade since Jason Statham had stepped into whiskey frisky, but here he was, drenched in nervous sweat. We are sure the second man removed his cap as well, revealing the handsome face of one Chris Pratt. Do you guys not remember how close you came the first time? You know it's twice as bad the second time, right? Seth seemed utterly unimpressed by his company. In fact, his cheeks were now flushed with annoyance. Please, I need this. Jason said, leaning forward and cupping his hands pleadingly. Seth sighed again. I don't get why, though. Especially you, Chris. You're doing great right now. Did you see the last Avengers movie, man? Chris replied. I barely had two lines. My manager thinks I may be on the way out. I don't know, guys, Seth said, shaking his head incredulously. The old man might not go for it. Did you bring payment, at least? As if the men had been waiting for those very words. Both Jason and Chris lifted and slammed a bulging black duffle onto the counter, knocking over a delicate stack of bubble bath ice cream butter. It's all there, Jason said in a hushed voice. All right, Seth said, giving one last warning sigh and getting to his feet. Head into the back. I'll lock up. Zell, get out here, man. We have business. Seth looked over his shoulder at the anxious celebrities and banged on the metal door another three times. All right, all ready. Roared a gruff voice. Within a breath, the door swung open with a metallic crunch, and a wiry gray-haired man limped into the dark room. His cane made wooden dumps on the stone and his right foot dragged behind it. Nothing about the old man looked broken, though. He was lofty and powerful, despite his slight frame. Just what is this fuckery, then? He growled. Seth shrugged nonchalantly and jerked a thumb at the men standing behind him. Jason steered them in crisp rat. They won a second go. Paid up front, too. The old man laughed in raspy coughs. You takin' the piss, lads. You know it's twice as bad the second go round. We're aware, Azazel. Jason replied family. He looked concerned, but like most of the characters in his films, he also seemed utterly confident. Chris, however, he looked increasingly unsure. Zell clicked his tongue and narrowed his eyes with bemusement. Well, okay, then. Let's get straight to business. Seth felt his stomach flutter with anticipation, and a smirk crept across both his and the old man's faces. This is going to be a good day. You know the rules, lads. You go through the window, simple. If you make it out again, you get a bit of… good luck. Azazel gave another sinister smile and waved his hand to the opening behind him. The men were all standing within the belly of an unnaturally dark room, in a half-circle around a blackened and burnt brick wall. In the center of the wall was a perfectly rectangular hole that led into a bottomless void of pitch black. It was not an absence of light. It was something that could only be an absence of existence. But either way, I lose some of your soul stage there. Seth added through a mouthful of cereal. Maybe I don't need this, Chris bled it out, palming the sweat from his eyes with a shaky hand. They do want me for another Jurassic movie. Hey, Jason Hissed. We said we would do this together. He grabbed Chris by the collar and bared his teeth. Okay, Chris blinked rapidly, looking from Jason's beaded glare to the void beyond. Zell tapped his cane with a sharp clack and bellowed. Come on now, we don't have all day. Jason took one last deep breath and stepped into the window. He was instantly swallowed by the black. Chris stepped up to the hole and threw one last imploring glance to Seth, who simply winked back. I'm rooting for you, pal. I love the Guardians movies. With one last breathless whisper, the two men were gone, and the sex store clerks were left in silence. What do you think? Seth said, dropping his bowl onto the floor. I think I'd rather get a tattoo of Bob Ross in the nude than see what those fellas are doing right now. Azazel replied, leaning forward on his cane. Not often you get people game to go back in though. Well, not since Hillary's email's debacle anyway. Zell laughed again, sounding much like Stones in a cement mixer. Well, there is... him. Seth replied with a shrug. The old man knew who his companion was referring to, the one man who had so far gone through the void, no less than four times. Suddenly there was a guttural and supernatural groan, and a figure soaked in blood was spat from the window. Seth squinted and leaned forward with an excited gasp. Who is it? The men on the ground spat a mouthful of blood onto the stone beneath him and rolled onto his back. Welcome back, Chris, Zell said, his face emotionless. Very well done. I would say I'm impressed, but I've seen a woman shoot ping pong balls from a crease before, so you're not quite there yet. Seth clapped enthusiastically and gave the old man a smug look. Called it, no Jason Statham I see. Zell said, regarding the blood now creeping the meter's feet. Chris opened his eyes. The whites had drastic contrast against the dark crimson coating him. Gone, he rasped. Seth noticed Chris had grown a beard in his absence. Not unusual for the void, but all the more impressive. Chris raised a quivering hand toward the old man, the rest of his body seemingly paralyzed. Help, he wheezed. We're demons, lad, not nurses. Wash yourself off in the restroom and go enjoy some more monumental success. With that, Zell limped back into his room and kicked the heavy iron door shut behind him. Congratulations, Chris. At least now I know the next guardian's film will be a banger. Seth stepped over the panting blood-soaked man and wandered casually back into the store with his hands in his pockets. He had been chuckling to himself when something stopped him dead in his tracks. What do you think? There is one more paragraph to that story, but if you want to read that, you're gonna have to go check it out on Wokpad. I'll leave a link in the description below. You know, in retrospect, that's probably one of the weirdest fucking things I've ever read, let alone written. But then again, does anyone remember when I wrote and published a book within one day and that book happened to be a self-published Pizarro erotica about a bachelor show where some of the contestants were Bigfoot, a raptor, and a normal woman? Maybe I should leave a card for that video. Because if you liked this one, I feel like you'll definitely, you'll like that one. Anyway, that was this episode of Wokpad's Wildest. I hope you liked it. Make sure you subscribe to the channel so that you can be involved when I do stuff like this in the future. I promise I can write normal stuff too, guys, I promise. Shit. As always, thanks for watching, guys. Catch ya.