GYSO Reviews Part 88 - World Pool Association
Published: 2026-03-22
Machine Operator: Ess, how about we just crash their computers when they try to play billiards online?
Sir: You’re a genius, Mo! A true No Rules Infiltration
Mo: No Rules Billiards, Sir.
Sir: Whatever, I need pictures of spiderman a good name! Give me something to prompt Jeeves Code!
Mo: Uh, something to lure in the degenerates sir, something sexy!
Sir: It’s a good start, but it has to be subtle… Otherwise the idiots might figure it out.
Mo: Something, something, boobs – because it sounds kind of like ‘pool’? What about ‘bool’?
Sir slams his hands against the post on the pool table. It’s a distracting maneuver as he uses sleight of hand to steal Mo’s watch and wallet. This is the third time this month.
Sir: Yes, Mo! A Seamaster, you have taste! We’re onto something… How about… b l o o b?
The two slowly pan to look at the camera.
Main Character 2: Uh, sorry. We’re here to document sports events.
Main Character 1: Yeah, we both got fired from our marketing jobs.
Awkward silence.
Main Character 1: How about those whacky pragmatic names, huh?
awk --silent
At the World Pool Association headquarters, front desk.
Clerk: Yes, number sixty-seven, how can I help you?
Person 1: Hello, yes I’m a journalist for The Journalistic Media Entity Inc.
Clerk: Oh, is this about the new stupid game of “no rules” billiards that no one can play?
Person 1: Exactly, I was hoping to speak to your President about it.
Clerk: That won’t happen, cupcake.
The clerk reaches towards something behind the counter.
Person 1: Are you refusing an interview? Even after the Thim Act of 1903, which explicitly bans people from denying plot progression?
Nodding, the clerk politely yet assertively smashes a medium-sized cupcake towards the mouth part of their face.
Clerk: (moutful of cupcake, shaking head) nu-uh.
The Clerk is gesturing with their hands, then at their mouth, back at me, then the North Dong as it passes over, then does a swirley with hands, then back at your man, indicating “just a moment”. One moment passes. Then she swallows, and points to the sign above her.
Clerk: We’re the World Pool Association, honey. What does one of fifty bajillion media conglomerates want with us? We don’t cotton to freaks around these parts.
The clerk reaches towards something behind the counter. One guess ass two what it is.
Person 1: WHAT? But you’re responsible for the World Pool Association rulebook on the game of pool! We just want an interview with someone about No Rules Billiards!
The clerk stares intensely into the eyes of the journalist, gaping and awkwardly pushing their whole hand straight into the dark and beckoning nothingness that is their mouth. It’s sort of like having eye contact while eating a banana, but way worse. There’s now honey on the floor, the desk, the clothes, the walls (somehow), and also the mouth area (somehow).
Clerk: (hand in mouth) I’m a clerk. I’m not responsible for anything. And we’re about pools, not whatever that is.
(When the Clerk gets home, she will enjoy a nice rest under her rock.)
Clerk: Now move aside, we have other visitors that are waiting. Number sixty-eight! How can I help you?
Number sixty-eight died years ago in the war.
Glancing at the clerk terminal (stage four, sadly), she can see that there are two thousand six hundred and seventy eight million people in line. Some have showed up in person, others are queing digitally, and one of them cloned themselves, making the count even harder to keep track of. She’s very glad they all will have very relevant questions related to swimming pools.
Clerk: Next! Number sixty-nine! Next!
The entire building rumbles like a category whore earthquake. A single disjointed, gestalt word rises out of the tremors.
“Nice.”
The World Billards Association front desk clerk taps her fingers on a stale cupcake, looking out into the vast expanse of droll, office-chic reception room before her.
Clerk (the second): Where is everyone?!
In the crowd at the World Pool Ass-ocean-ation, people are talking.
Crowd Expy 1: I’m starting to think they don’t know anything about the Great Game.
Crowd Expy 2: I’m staring to think! AAAA MAKE IT STOP!
Crowd Expy 3: I’m start– oh wait, nevermind. False alarm.
Crowd Expy 4: I.
Crowd Expy 5: FDSAFDSKFDJSALKFDJSKALFDJKSLAFJDSALFJKSLD
Crowd Expy 6: Is that an eel?
Crowd Expy 7: I heard there wasn’t a rule against eels playing. Like Legally Distinct Air Bud.
At the World Billiards Association…
President (of the WBA, not Legally Distinct Nation State): What’s going on down here, I haven’t had a single person come up to my office yet, and it’s almost noon! What’s the hold-up?
As they’re talking, the empty and voidless expanse of open floor reception strikes their retinas, and their voice starts to shake-tremble.
President: Ah! There’s no one here? Where is everyone?
The clerk hangs up the phone. A traditional rotary phone with a spiral cord, for some reason.
Clerk: Haven’t you heard? They all think it’s called ‘pool’, not ‘billiards’. Only an idiot would make a mistake like that.
Somewhere, Thim sits up straight in the middle of his pool.
Thim: Nani the fuck!? Who said that?!
The pool flashes with… flashes. A… uh… brightness spreads over the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion World Pool Association Brand Pool, by association, as the toaster Thim was delicately balancing on his chest slips into the water. It causes an electrical… shockwave? Because that’s how elecricity works for this scene. Currents and amps flowing along the insulated lines of plot contrivance. Regards, someone that hasn’t electrocuted themselves yet.
Henry: oh no! :( thim!
Bunny: Worry not, plant creature, father is healthy and hale.
Thim (dancing in the electricity): DAISY! DAISY! SEND ME YOUR ANSWER TOO!
Bunny: He’s been chewing on the wire during the past half-hour. I asked him why. He just giggled and said “it tickles”.
Thim: I GOT THE POWAH! OOOGA BOOBA BOOBA!
Back at the WPA crowd after something interrupted them. Fucking point of view one-off jokes turning into entire side plots.
Clerk: (in a drowl) Yes, number two-thousand, seven hundred and two? How can I pool you? I mean– Pool how do you do? Do you pool here often? I mean– ugh, nevermind.
Number two-thousand, seven hundred and two?: Yis. I’m am is here on account of the billards game–
Clerk reaches down, placing a gun on the desk.
Clerk: Care to continue that?
The number I’m too lazy to type out again leaves in a rush.
Clerk (sighing): It’s not even a real game…
The dies.
The end.