Consultation 81.

“HEY GODS AND GODDESSES, GODDESS TILLY NEIGHS OF HALF-ASSED PRODUCTS HERE WITH MY BRAND NEW PRODUCT, THE P*SSY A*S MOUTH F*CK MACHINE 6.9.”

…

The bleeped sponsored message played for five minutes while I did my utmost to keep my sanity points from dropping below critical levels. When it was finally over it was time for me to continue with the moronic game show.

“Haaaaaaah.” I somehow got off easy with the last one because she was a chocolate obsessed idiot, but I had to be more careful this time. This time I needed a line that would be rejected by just about anyone regardless of age. 

Let’s see… what can I possibly say that ensures guaranteed rejection? Oh, that’s right! There’s always that option.

With sparkles in my eyes and a face filled with only the purest intentions, I said, “Please marry me, you fat whale.” I made this proposal extremely confident that I’d be flat out rejected with such a bombshell nuclear winter-inducing line.

“Slurp. Slick. Schlook.”

Eh? What? What the hell is that response supposed to mean? Wait, those sounds… no... it couldn’t be that. Definitely not THAT. 

“Glug. Glug. Glug.”

I broke out into a sweat as my uncertainty grew.

“Hmmm~ nnnn~ ah~”

Eh. No way. There’s no way it’s what I’m thinking it is. The mind is notorious for interpreting sounds in misleading ways. The person on the other side is definitely not doing what I‘m thinking. Besides, could they really broadcast this sort of thin- Shit! It’s a Japanese one, what sort of standards can I expect?

“Go-ah-d ish dat wu?”

I covered my face in shame. That voice was the second on my list of degenerate bitches I want nothing to do with. Marry, I’d rather have a TikTok influencer for a daughter than marry this undead nympho.

“Uh… undead nympho bitch, please repeat after me.”

“Okway. Ib wu shay sho. Slick.”

Don’t ‘Slick’ me!

“I am a slutty nympho bitch who can only get off to being pounded in every hole at once. I belong to everyone and refuse to belong to a single man.”

“I mm a swutty nymbo bwich~ nnn~ oo an onwy gwet ob wu be~in poudwed nn ebi howu ad wonz. Ai~ bewong wu ebiwon an webuse wu bewong wu ah~ singo mnn~.”

I plugged my ears halfway through, but I still heard everything. I could only imagine what was happening on the other side of the divider. My ears had been violated to extremes by the pervert on the other side of the divider.

The green light changed to red, the buzzer sounded out against before it was immediately followed by, “REEEEEJECTEEEEEED!” 

When the monitor turned on I covered my eyes with one hand to avoid seeing what she was doing, but I couldn’t hold back my curiosity and still cracked open a small gap between two fingers. I peeked at the screen only to see a censored wriggling blob falling toward a censored field of what appeared to be upright dildos.

Bing bong. 

A disclaimer message popped up on the monitor, ‘Due to the grotesque nature image has been censored for viewer safety.’

It was actually too grotesque even for this game show. That truly said a lot about how much of a degenerate she was.

“To be rejected by a woman like this… heh. Will God Waifus ever find his match? What a pitiful God.”

That bitch.

“Well let’s move onto our fourth candidate.”

When the light turned to green I didn’t bother to waste any time.

“Please marry me, you fat whale.”

Snap. Snap.

What the hell… what was that sound supposed to be? Who the hell did I propose to this time?

“Sorry, what was that?”

Snap. Snap. Snap.

The only thing that returned my query was that snapping sound. Do I know any women like that? Just what is going on? Wait… it’s a Japanese game show... 

“Snap once for yes and twice for no. Will you marry me?”

Snap...

Eh? Wait. What? No way! Please snap again! 

Snap.

Haaaaaah. Thank god. Don’t scare me like that.

“REEEEEJECTEEEEEED!”

When the monitor turned on this time, I nearly flipped my desk.

“To be rejected by a snapping turtle, today just isn’t your day God Waifus.”

“Don’t fuck with me! What the hell is this? You expected me to marry a turtle?”

“No, are you dumb? We never expected you to marry a turtle, we expected you to marry a SNAPPING turtle. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, a difference as big as my expanded asshole when I’m sitting on the toilet taking a hot shit. Don’t play theatrics with me, you know what I meant.”

“Pfft. L-Let’s not dwell on this too much, God Waifus. Let’s just move onto the fifth candidate.”

I glared daggers into the divider. If I got my hands on her I’d make damn well certain she was forced to marry that turtle.

As soon as the light turned green I repeated the line that seemed to be the most effective, “Please marry me, you fat whale.”

“HAH! God Waifus, is that you! Who are you calling fat! Do you have a death wish? There’s no way in hell I’d ever marry you!”

Eh? This time around it was someone I hadn’t heard from in quite some time.

“Goddess Grandparents? Is that you?”

“Yeeeeeeeeeaaaa- “REEEEEJECTEEEEEED! -AHHHHHHHHH!”

The monitor turned on revealing Goddess Grandparents on the other side falling into a pit.

“What the hell is this! Why are all my clients here! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

When I saw what was in the pit below her I sent her my best wishes. There were a bunch of old men and women at the bottom. When she landed they all turned toward her and started approaching her with pickle jars in their hands.

“NOOOOOO! NO MORE FUCKING PICKLE JARS! IT’S BEEN NOTHING BUT FUCKING REQUESTS TO OPEN PICKLE JARS FOR THE LAST MONTH! I DON’T EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO VISIT ANY FRIENDS BECAUSE OF THE SHEER NUMBER OF REQUESTS I GET JUST TO OPEN PICKLE JARS! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! I’M SO DONE WITH OPENING THEM FOR YOU OLD FAR-”

The monitor turned black and cut her off before she finished her sentence. It seemed her requests to open pickle jars had really broken her down recently.

“Well, it seems the last candidate is a bit too busy to be looking for marriage right now. Oh well, better luck next time, God Waifus. Next.”

“Haaaaaaah.” How many times am I going to need to do this?

“Please marry me, you fat whale.”

“...”

Eh? No response this time? Did they maybe not hear me?

“Please marry me, you lard ass pig.”

“...”

Still nothing? What’s going on? Is it another animal or something?

“Please marry me, you stupid chimpanzee.”

“...”

Amidst my confusion, a piece of paper phased through the divider.

Were they mute and only able to communicate through writing or something?

I stood up, approached the divider and grabbed the paper. I immediately realized there was something wrong. The first problem, it wasn’t a single piece of paper. The second problem, it was the marriage document. The third problem was the fact that it had been completely filled out. The last problem was the name.

I started to tremble. 

No.

No…

Why?

How could I suffer such humiliation? Not once, but twice?

I don’t want to get stabbed.

This is just a dream. Yeah, it’s got to just be a bad dream.

Dum dum dudum dum dum dum dum…

To my horror and dismay, Wedding March in C major started playing.

“Rejected. Come on, just say rejected like every other time. You can’t do this to me! This is clearly rigged! There’s no woman that could possibly accept being proposed to in such a manner. Just cut me some slack, please?”

The divider suddenly dematerialized and revealed a woman on the other side in a wedding dress. The moment I visually confirmed it was really her, I knew… I fucked up. It was my worst nightmare.

I turned around and returned back to my desk. I folded my arms and put my head down on the desk as I lamented over all my decisions in life. If I’d just gone with a mortal or that stupid turtle, at least they would eventually die and I’d someday be free of a fate worse than death. But with her, my freedom would eternally be gone. Why don’t I file for divorce? Are you crazy? I’ll probably be stabbed by her until I give up on the notion of divorce.

“Haaaaaah. This is really the worst.”

She hadn’t said anything the entire time, she just had a smug look on her face that said, ‘Heh.’