Wenn ich sowas hier höre, wäre ich gerne wieder 10 Jahre jünger und mit einem großen Schwert in den Wäldern diverser Fantasy-Ländern unterwegs.

Narrator: Dungeons and Dragons. Satan’s game. Your children, like it or not, are attracted in their weaker years to the occult, and a game like D&D fuels their imagination and makes them feel special, while drawing them deeper and deeper into the bowels of El Diablo! This afternoon, the Dead Alewives’ Watchtower invites you to sit in on an actual gaming session. Observe the previously unobservable as a hidden camera takes you to the Inner Sanctum of Dungeons and Dragons.
DM: Golstaff, you have entered the door to the north. You are now by yourself, standing in a dark room. The pungent stench of mildew eminates from the wet dungeon walls.
Cheeto: Where are the Cheetos?
DM: They’re right next to you.
Golstaff: I cast a spell.
Cheeto: Where’s the Mountain Dew?
DM: In the fridge, duh!
Golstaff: I wanna cast a spell!
Cheeto: Can I have a Mountain Dew?
DM: Yes, you can have a Mountain Dew, just go get it.
Golstaff: I can cast any of these, right? On the list?
DM: Yes, any, any of the first level ones.
Cheeto: I’m gonna get a soda; anyone want one? Hey, Graham, I’m not in the room, right?
DM: What room?
Golstaff: I wanna cast…Magic Missile.

Cheeto: The room where he’s casting all these spells from.
DM: He hasn’t cast anything yet.
Golstaff: I am though, if you’d listen. I’m casting…Magic Missile.
DM: Why are casting Magic Missile? There’s nothing to attack here.
Golstaff: I…I’m attacking the darkness!
[[[laughter from Cheeto and DM]]]
DM: Fine, fine, you attack the darkness. There’s an elf in front of you.
Elf: Whoah! That’s me, right?
DM: He wearing a brown tunic, and he has grey hair, and blue eyes…
Elf: No, I don’t, I have grey eyes.
DM: Let me see that sheet.
Elf: Well, it says I have…Well, it says here I have blue, but I decided I wanted grey eyes.
DM: Whatever. OK, you guys can talk to each other now, if you want.
Golstaff: Hello.
Elf: Hello.
Golstaff: I am Golstaff, Sorcerer of Light.
Elf: Then how come you had to cast Magic Missile?
[[[more laughter from Elf, Cheeto and DM]]]
DM: You…you guys are being attacked.
Cheeto: Do I see that happening?
DM: No, you’re outside, by the tavern.
Cheeto: Cool, I get drunk.
DM: There are seven ogres surrounding you.
Elf: How could they surround us? I had Mordenkainen’s Magical Watchdog cast.
DM: No, you didn’t.
Cheeto: I’m getting drunk. Are there any girls there?
Elf: I totally did! You asked me if I wanted any equipment before this adventure and I said No. But I need material components for all my spells. So I cast Mordenkainen’s Faithful Watchdog.
DM: But you never actually cast it.
Cheeto: Roll the dice to see if I’m getting drunk.
DM: (rolls dice) Yeah, you are.
Cheeto: Are there any girls there?
DM: Yeah.
Elf: I did though! I completely said when you asked me!
DM: No you didn’t! You didn’t actually SAY that you were casting the spell. So now there’s ogres. OK?!
Cheeto: Ogres! Man, I got an Ogre-Slaying knife! It’s got a plus 9 against ogres.
DM: You’re not there! You’re getting drunk!
Cheeto: OK, but if there’s any girls there, I wanna DO them!
Narrator: There you have it! A frightening look into America’s most frightening pastime. Remember that it’s not your children’s fault that they’re being drawn into a Satanic world of nightmare. It’s their gym teacher’s fault, for making them feel outcast, when they couldn’t do one single pullup.