Glitch Slapped

Sam Walker had always been good at bullshitting his way through life. If sarcasm were an Olympic sport, he’d have taken home gold every year without even trying. But as he sat alone in the flickering, glitch-ridden base of the Misfits, something was beginning to gnaw at him, something he couldn’t laugh off or push away with a witty insult.

He was starting to realize the horrible truth: This wasn’t just some messed-up fever dream.

This might be his reality. Forever.

No internet. No bad pizza. No mindless MMO grinding to tune out the world. Nothing. All the shit he used to enjoy doing—being a sarcastic asshole in forums, ruining someone’s day on a customer service call—it was gone. All of it. His old life, his shitty, isolated existence, was a million miles away. And here? In this fractured, glitchy hellhole, he couldn’t even tell what was real half the time.

The weight of that realization was like a lead block sitting on his chest.

For weeks, he’d managed to get by on pure snark, violence, and the kind of dumb luck that only seemed to hit when you didn’t actually need it. But as the days in this new world dragged on, it was starting to sink in. The little voice in the back of his head—the one that used to whisper snide comments and smug truths—was getting quieter. In its place was something far more dangerous: doubt.

What if I’m stuck here?

It had been easy to ignore at first. Between glitching monsters, insane quests, and his new Ass-Ass-In class, there had always been something to distract him. But tonight, in the quiet of the Misfit’s base, with nothing but the soft crackle of glitching torches and the hum of distant machinery, there was no more running from it.

Sam leaned forward in the creaky chair, elbows on his knees, and stared down at his hands. Fuck. Is this really it? Is this my life now?

He thought back to his old life—before all of this.

He had been a professional asshole by design. It wasn’t that he didn’t care what people thought of him; it was that he got a sick kind of pleasure out of pushing their buttons. He wasn’t just cruel. He was precise. His insults were calculated, his sarcasm a scalpel he wielded with the kind of expertise that made others recoil. He loved pissing people off. And why shouldn’t he? If they couldn’t handle it, that was their problem.

In a way, being a dick had always been his shield. It kept people at arm’s length, made sure no one got too close. The more enemies he made, the fewer people he had to let in. The fewer people he had to actually care about. That had been his mantra: Better to be hated and alone than risk giving a shit.

But now, as he sat in this broken world where nothing made sense, he felt that shield crumbling. For the first time, it wasn’t enough to just be a sarcastic asshole. Here, no one gave a fuck about his smartass remarks. His jabs didn’t land the way they used to. Hell, even Glitch barely reacted to his insults half the time. In this world, being right didn’t matter. Being clever didn’t matter. All that mattered was surviving—and right now, Sam wasn’t so sure he wanted to keep fighting.

For the first time, in a long time, he felt small.

And he fucking hated it.

Is this really it? Sam’s thoughts circled back to the same question, as if the answer was going to magically change if he thought about it hard enough. Is this where I’m stuck forever?

No one was coming to get him. No one cared that he was here. Hell, who would even notice he was missing? His old life wasn’t exactly bursting with friendships and deep relationships. He’d isolated himself on purpose, like a fortress made of sarcasm and shitty behavior. And now, here he was—alone in a world where nothing made sense. The ultimate cosmic joke.

He felt a lump form in his throat, but he pushed it down with a rough cough. No way. I’m not doing this. Not here. Not now.

But the weight of it kept pressing, pushing him into a corner he didn’t want to be in. He’d always been good at avoiding uncomfortable feelings—burying them under layers of snark and spite. But this? This was different. There was no one to push away. No one to insult into submission. Just him and the brutal reality that, for the first time, he might actually be alone.

Forever.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots to ground himself. He hated this feeling. It was too much. Too real. And fuck, he was tired of feeling helpless.

His thoughts spiraled. What was the point of all this? Fighting? Leveling up? Gaining powers? If there was no escape, no way to get back to his shitty apartment, his shitty internet, and his shitty life… then why keep going?

Maybe he was just delaying the inevitable.

“You’re sulking again,” came the familiar, cocky voice of Glitch from his hip. “What, no wisecrack this time? You’re really off your game today, Taint Lover.”

Sam bit back a groan, staring blankly at the floor. “I’m just… processing,” he muttered, not bothering to make eye contact with the talking pouch.

“Processing? Jesus, who are you and what have you done with Sam Walker, King of Fuckery?” Glitch said, his zipper mouth curling up in a smug smirk. “Come on, where’s that biting wit you always brag about? Don’t tell me this place is getting to you.”

Sam’s shoulders sagged. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t get it? Really? Try me, smartass.”

There was a long pause as Sam mulled it over. The truth was, he didn’t want to explain what was going on in his head. He didn’t want to admit that this world was starting to crack him, that he was struggling to cope with the idea of being stuck here. But for some reason, the words tumbled out anyway.

“I can’t… I can’t tell what’s real anymore,” Sam said, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s all fucked. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on this place, it glitches. Or throws some new bullshit in my face. It’s like nothing I do matters. I’m just… floating in a sea of broken code and randomness.”

“Well, welcome to the fucking club,” Glitch finally said, his voice softer, almost too soft for Sam to register at first. There was none of the usual biting sarcasm, no smug undertone that he’d grown so used to hearing. It was unsettling.

“You think you’re the first one who’s felt like that? I’ve been through this with more people than I can count, Sam. You’re not the only one who’s lost their shit here.”

Sam blinked. Glitch was… being serious? That was a first. He looked down at the sentient pouch in disbelief, waiting for the inevitable punchline that never came. The silence that followed felt heavy, like the room itself had shifted under the weight of that statement.

Sam’s mouth opened, but he wasn’t sure what to say. It felt wrong to let this moment pass without calling bullshit, but something stopped him. Something in Glitch’s tone. For the first time, the sarcastic bastard wasn’t playing a game. He wasn’t deflecting or making fun of Sam’s misery.

This was real.

“Really?” Sam asked, trying to keep the sarcasm that usually came so easily from leaking into his voice. The word felt almost foreign on his tongue. When was the last time he had actually been genuine?

“Yeah, really,” Glitch replied, his voice not changing, not cracking into laughter, not delivering some snide remark. “I’ve seen plenty of people who thought they were going to figure it all out. Thought they were going to beat the glitches, or find some kind of escape. Spoiler alert: none of them did. Most of them either gave up or went completely batshit. You? You’re doing better than most.”

Sam let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter and sharp. “Yeah, right. Better than most. I’m still here, sure, but what the fuck does that mean? I haven’t done shit.”

“No, seriously.” Glitch wasn’t having it. “You’re still here. You’re still trying to figure it out. That’s more than I can say for the rest of the assholes who came before you.”

Sam leaned back, his mind still trying to process the idea that Glitch had seen this before. He always assumed the pouch had been… well, he hadn’t really thought about it, had he? Glitch was just there—this snarky, annoying asshole who happened to live on his hip. He didn’t have a story, not really. At least, not one Sam cared to ask about.

But now? Now it felt like the world was tipping sideways, and Sam wasn’t sure where the ground was anymore.

“How many?” Sam asked, his voice quieter now. “How many people have you been stuck with?”

Glitch was silent for a moment, and for a second, Sam thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then the pouch let out a long, slow sigh. “I lost count. After a while, you stop trying to keep track. They all start blending together. Different names, different faces, but the same story. The same arc.”

“Same arc?”

“Yeah,” Glitch replied, his zipper curling in what might have been a frown. “They all go through the same stages. First, they’re all about the power. The abilities. They think this world’s just another game to beat, another system to master. And they do, for a while. They get stronger. This was before all of the glitches though. Hell, some of them even become legends.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised. “Legends?”

Glitch snorted. “Oh yeah. The world loves its legends. You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard. They start out as nobody, and then they carve out kingdoms, lead armies, kill gods, the whole damn thing. But it never lasts.”

Sam could feel the bitterness in Glitch’s words, and for once, it wasn’t directed at him.

“What happens?” Sam asked, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees. He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to know. “Why doesn’t it last?”

“They hit the wall.” Glitch’s voice darkened, and Sam felt a chill run down his spine. “The wall no one talks about. The one that stops everything dead in its tracks. They get to the top, and suddenly they realize—there’s nothing after that. No answers, no escape. Just more nothing. And that’s when they break.”

Sam swallowed hard. “What do you mean, break?”

“I mean they crack under the weight of it all,” Glitch replied, his voice eerily calm. “Some of them go mad. Some of them give up. They just stop trying. They just disappear or they find something sharp and make it quick. They just… disappear. Either way, they stop fighting. ”

A knot formed in Sam’s chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “And you… watched all of this happen?”

Glitch let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Watched? Hell, I was right there. Carried their junk, listened to their rants, their breakdowns, their final words. I saw it all. I’m always the last thing they talk to before they go.”

Sam felt a weight settle in his gut. He wasn’t sure why, but the image of Glitch, a sarcastic, sentient pouch—sitting silently by as hero after hero lost their mind, broke down, and gave up, made his stomach twist. It was… fucked up.

“You ever try to stop them?” Sam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Glitch was quiet for a long moment. “No.”

Sam blinked. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not my job to save them, Sam.” Glitch’s voice was flat, resigned. “I’m not a guide. I’m not some guardian angel. I’m just a pouch. I hold their crap, I throw up what they need, and I let them fall apart when they’re ready. That’s the deal.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s… cold.”

“That’s reality,” Glitch replied. “You’re not the first. And you won’t be the last. So yeah, welcome to the fucking club.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sam felt a strange sense of… comfort. Not from the idea that countless others had failed before him—hell, that was terrifying—but from the fact that Glitch was sharing this with him at all. The pouch didn’t have to talk about his past. He didn’t have to open up, even a little. But he did.

And that meant something.

For the first time since Sam had landed in this world, he felt a sliver of connection with someone—even if that someone was a smartass pouch with a questionable sense of humor.

“Look, Sam,” Glitch continued after a long pause, “I know this place is fucked, but you’re not doing it alone. You’ve got me. Whether you like it or not.”

Sam smirked. Glitch said, “You’re still here, right?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still here.”

“And you’re still you,” Glitch added. “You haven’t broken yet. You haven’t hit that wall. And maybe, just maybe… you won’t.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You trying to give me a pep talk now?”

Glitch snorted. “Fuck no. I’m just saying, you’re still going. That’s something.”

For a moment, Sam didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to this—feeling something other than sarcasm or anger. He wasn’t used to someone, even a talking pouch, giving him anything other than shit.

But it felt… good.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, trying to process it all. “And now I’m stuck with you.”

“Hey,” Glitch snapped. “I didn’t ask to be your spouch.”

Sam frowned. “Spouch?”

Glitch sighed. “It’s a thing, alright? Sentient pouch—spouch. It’s… ugh, forget it.”

Sam snorted. “A spouch. Sure. That’s what we’re calling you now.”

Before Glitch could respond with another sarcastic retort, he let out a low groan, his zipper shuddering as if he was about to vomit again.

“Oh, shit…”

“What now?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

Glitch’s entire pouch body heaved once more, and with an almost comically exaggerated retch, something heavy and dark fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Sam blinked, staring at the object lying in front of him. It was a cloak—a sleek, inky black fabric that shimmered faintly with an otherworldly glow. His HUD immediately popped up, displaying its stats.

Legendary Cloak: Shadowveil

Dexterity: +25%

Luck: +25%

Special Ability 1: Shadow Shift – Allows the wearer to teleport up to 20 feet in any direction, even through solid objects.

Special Ability 2: Blink – Instantly disappears into stealth mode, even in the middle of combat. The stealth is fully undetectable for 30 seconds, allowing for either a strategic retreat or a deadly sneak attack.

Glitch Immunity – This cloak is immune to all glitches and cannot be corrupted.

Sam’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “Holy shit…” he breathed, reaching down to pick up the cloak with trembling fingers. This wasn’t just any piece of gear. This was legendary. A rush of excitement coursed through him, momentarily shoving aside the existential dread he’d been drowning in for the past hour.

He quickly draped the cloak over his shoulders, feeling the immediate surge of agility and luck flow through him. The fabric felt impossibly light, yet it clung to him like a second skin. He could barely contain his glee as he toggled the Shadow Shift ability in his HUD, watching as his form blinked in and out of existence like a shadow slipping between cracks in reality.

“Glitch, this is…” Sam’s voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. Incredible? Unbelievable? The first real piece of hope he’d felt in ages?

“Yeah, yeah,” Glitch grumbled. “Don’t get too attached. It’s not going to fix your fetish problems, buddy.”

Sam ignored the jab, a smile creeping onto his face as he felt the newfound power hum beneath his skin. This—this was something. Something that actually mattered. For the first time since arriving in this world, Sam felt like he had an edge, a real weapon in the fucked-up chaos he was trapped in.

And then, just as the euphoria was beginning to build, Glitch let out another retching belch.

“More? . . .” Sam hoped, then watched in horror as something else squelched out of Glitch’s zipper mouth and plopped onto the floor.

A small, grotesque statue, bent over, its hairy taint proudly on display.

Sam’s entire body went rigid as he stared down at the offensive statue, blinking in disbelief. His face contorted with sheer horror and disgust. “...The FUUUUCK!?”

He picked up the grotesque little figure, holding it between his thumb and forefinger like it was coated in some kind of biohazardous goo. His voice rose in indignation as he turned it over in his hand. “Why?! Glitch, seriously?! Why would you have this—why would you puke it out?!”

Glitch was already losing it, his laughter weak at first, but quickly escalating. His whole pouch body shuddered as he wheezed, barely able to contain his glee. “Oh, come on, Sam. Don’t act all surprised now. You’re the one who’s always glorifying that useless patch of skin between the balls and the starfish!”

Sam’s expression twisted into even deeper revulsion as he held the statue as far from his body as physically possible. “You’re fucking sick.”

Glitch was practically in tears, his voice coming out in choked gasps. “I-I’m just giving you your spirit statue, man! It’s practically your patron saint! Look at the craftsmanship!” He wheezed, shaking with uncontrollable laughter. “I mean, look at the detail on that hairy taint—it’s majestic!”

Sam was already marching toward the trash, ready to yeet the offensive object into the abyss, when suddenly, the statue disappeared from his hand and a strange tingle ran up his arm. He froze, dread pooling in his stomach. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no—”

He slowly looked down at his hand.

There, emblazoned on his skin, was a tattoo—an exact replica of the statue, complete with its disgustingly detailed hairy taint. And, to make matters worse, above it, in bold lettering, were the words “I LOVE HAIRY TAINTS” in all caps. Because, of course.

Glitch’s reaction was instantaneous.

He exploded into another fit of wheezing, uncontrollable laughter. His zipper mouth flapped wildly as his entire pouch form shook like a seizure victim on a bouncy castle. He was gone, absolutely broken by the hilarity of the situation. “Oh my… OH MY GOD!!!! YOU’RE BRANDED! HAHAHA! YOU’RE FUCKING BRANDED NOW… AS A TAINT LOVER!”

Sam’s face flushed with a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and pure rage. “Are you kidding me?! This is what I get for putting up with your glitchy bullshit?! I’ve got a goddamn taint tattoo!”

Glitch was wheezing so hard, he was practically incoherent now, his voice gasping between breaths. “I—OH—OH MAN—I CAN’T BREATHE!” His laughter became high-pitched, almost like he was choking on his own glee. “YOU’RE—YOU’RE BRANDED FOR LIFE, TAINT LOVER! IT’S OFFICIAL NOW!”

Sam was fuming. He tried to scrub at the tattoo, desperately hoping it was some kind of cruel prank that would rub off. But no. It was permanent. Of course, it was permanent.

“I fucking hate you, Glitch,” Sam growled, his eyes blazing with fury. “I’ve put up with your shit—literally—and this is how you repay me?!”

Glitch was still howling. “OH, THIS IS TOO GOOD! HAHAHA! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I COULD DO THAT!”

Sam, teeth clenched, activated his HUD, trying to pull up the stats on the tattoo. “Alright, maybe this stupid thing at least comes with some useful stats...”

But, because the world just loved to screw with him, the second Sam’s HUD blinked into existence, the tattoo’s stats glitched out. The screen flickered wildly, flashing random garbled symbols that looked like a cat had walked across a keyboard mid-seizure.

Instead of stat numbers, he got:

"I LOVE HAIRY TAINTS"

??? Stats: ERROR. ER-

ERROR: INVALID VALUE.

TAINT ENTHUSIAST RECOGNIZED.

Sam stared at the screen, deadpan. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Every time he tried to tap into the stats, they flickered, changing from “ERROR” to random bursts of garbled code, occasionally flashing “HAIRY TAINT AFFINITY +69”. One time it even glitched out into “CHARMING ASSHOLE: +3 Taint Accuracy” before dissolving back into nonsense.

Glitch was absolutely dying. His zipper mouth flapped open and shut like a fish out of water, his laughter echoing through the room like a manic hyena. “OH MY GOD—HAHA—‘TAINT ENTHUSIAST’?! THIS IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN!”

Sam jabbed at the HUD again, growling as he tried to pull up the stats for the third time. “HAIRY TAINT ENHANCEMENT +5% PERK” flashed for a split second before glitching out once more. “Is this a fucking joke?!” Sam shouted, throwing his hands up. “What the hell even is a Taint Enhancement?!”

Glitch was barely able to speak now, his voice hoarse from all the wheezing laughter. “Oh … OH MAN this is going to be so much fun! Every time you look at your hand—EVERY TIME—you’re gonna see that beautiful, majestic taint!”

Sam glared down at the tattoo, feeling the fury bubbling up inside him. “I’m going to fucking bury you.”

Glitch, completely unfazed by the threat, continued cackling like a maniac. “OH PLEASE! LIKE YOU COULD LIVE WITHOUT ME NOW! WE’RE IN THIS TOGETHER!”

Sam swiped at the glitchy HUD one more time, but it was no use. Every time he tried to get a proper read on the tattoo’s stats, it just flickered and spit out some nonsensical error message. One time it read “HAIRY TAINT PASSIVE ABILITY: DISTRACT ENEMIES WITH DINGLEBERRIES” before disappearing again.

Sam could only stare at the screen, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation washing over him. “This is my life now. This is what it’s come to.”

Glitch, still wheezing from laughter, managed to cough out one last jab. “Oh man... oh man, I’m never letting this go. Taint Lover for life!”

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration. He might’ve gained a powerful cloak and the ability to blink across space with ease, but none of it mattered. Not when he was now the proud owner of a goddamn hairy taint tattoo.

“I’m in hell,” Sam muttered, glaring at the pouch still heaving with laughter. “Absolute hell.”

Glitch’s voice, hoarse and breathless, chimed in between his final fits of giggles. “Yeah... but at least it’s a fun hell, huh?”