When you find yourself teleported a mile above the game world, plummeting helplessly toward Fort Teth to your certain doom, you have an uncanny opportunity to look back over your life and the lessons you learned. Myself? I believe it may have been a bad idea to taunt the game admin.

"What up, fatty!?" I typed, welcoming him to the town. See, he was wearing Kouija leggings that look all fat and puffy, and he was acting all big, saying all kinds of holier-than-thou crap -- like, "Hail citizens, can I assist you?" and stuff.

So you know, I started ribbing him. "I thought I smelled a server admin," I said. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any copper chainmail helmets stashed up there in between the ENORMOUS FOLDS OF FAT that cling to your engorged gut do ya, eh chunks?"

Come to think of it, maybe the admin was overweight in real life.

He was ignoring me and talking to a new player. "I'm sorry, fair Lady, but I cannot merely grant players gold pieces," he typed. "However, Northeast of the lifestone you will find a short quest befitting of your status and bravery!" What a pud. You know, I hate when these creeps flaunt their power like that.

"Hey listen," I butted in. "Tell her the truth -- you can't give her any gold because you were too busy hauling your big oversized dimpled ass to the salvation army to pick up some spare armor that makes you look like a victim of a car accident and then you spent the rest of your pyreals on Hostess cupcakes and cheesecake with whipped cream, you big sweltering three-fingered nostril-headed armpit-boy." You know, I was just playfully joshing with him.

"Verily, you speak to an elder, tempestuous little one," he said. Oh yeah, see? Now he decides he's going to pick on me. What a jerk. It was time to stop playing around and give him a piece of my mind.

"Elder? More like EL-DORKO!" I typed. "You got the face of a reedshark attack; grotesque and pointy. Is your armor supposed to be dung-colored or did you have an accident, you sweaty cow-suckling pasta-faced fartwhiffer!!" Then I handed him a torch that I had engraved with the words, "Stuff this. Lit."

So the next thing I know I appear in a puff of magic a few thousand feet above a town in the direlands. Why does stuff like this always happen to me?

[Victim idea submitted by GameSpy reader Sal "Sluggo" Accardo.]