To the white guy wearing Jordan 1 mids while holding dual-citizenship in Tech N9ne’s DMs, it’s time for us to have a conversation about the inevitable horrors you’re about to inflict on that microphone sitting in the fully-furnished basement of your parents’ five-bedroom home. Why am I crushing the dreams you’ve had since you discovered J. Cole your freshman year in high school, then got mad when he said “cracker” but learned to love him again, you might ask? Well, I nearly died driving to work this morning trying to skip a song that you, God forbid, in the future are probably bound to make.
Do you know how hard it is to skip a song where the dude rapping is writing bars on graph paper? Who complains about how he can’t understand Playboi Carti before rapping the alphabet backward at lightning speed? You’re probably asking, “how did you know that the song you skipped was going to be one of those, though?” Look, I saw the cover. One glance is all I needed. The patchy beard, the logoless snapback, the pleather jacket over a zip hoodie with that Kohl’s rope chain––it was all there.
I could hear it in my head, that weirdly nasally voice rapping, “I’m getting faded like Travis Kelce, they won’t ever bless me, they question me because of my caucasity, hate me because I’m whiter than Rick James’ nasal cavity” in quadruple time over a royalty-free Kendrick type beat, I reached for that dial so quick that I nearly got pinned by a semi-truck. I mean, that’s the thing, though. If you’re gonna do the whole, “look at me, I rap fast” thing, you have to be faster than my hand. If you’re not faster than my hand, it’s over. Busta Rhymes? Faster than my hand. Twista? Faster than my hand. Eminem? Occasionally faster than my hand.
To top it all off? It just feels racist. Like when you see too many American flags in someone’s lawn or they have that weird orange tan with blue eyes. That interview where he said his favorite rappers were Eminem, Logic and Jack Harlow I was like, “oh, that’s an unusual coincidence. When he also mentioned “half of Drake,” that was kind of weird too. But, when he said he didn’t know Paul Wall? That sealed the deal for me, I knew he was racist.
But, like I said, at the end of the day, my hand’s just too quick. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some Yeat type beats to write over.
The damn tiny circular pipes here never allow enough space for catching up on all of your work. You try to bring your laptop up, but there’s just never enough room. Plus, people whisper about the swaying air ducts. Better lay low until the staff closes. Then, you are the king of the Coffee Bean.
Shoddy standardized air ducts that promise more than they deliver. Jagged interiors, with thick bordered separations and rivets that jut into your thighs while trying to read the collected stories of Anton Chekhov. However, placement is often great for eavesdropping on normies.
Ah, the legendary Portland brand. The rich aromas waft into the air ducts, but the crawl space is a bit tighter than other chains. That’s the hand-made, twee Portland way. Aesthetics over practicality. Be sure to don your facial piercings and develop a love of vinyl before hiding in this ductwork.
Such overrated air ducts, try to avoid them at all costs. Clearly installed by Ductmate Industries (you can tell by the sealant). Hilarious watching customers take out a mortgage to buy a costly iced coffee. Plus, it is always freezing inside. The constant AC means you can barely keep the papers down while scribbling your manifesto.
Cold winters and muggy summers make for long uncomfortable stretches in these East Coast vents. You better love the smell of hoagies. You’ll be going home to your family with a thick sandwich stench, if you can pop the vent off or get past the nest of spiders. This seems to be a job by Sheet Metal Connectors, which you recognize from your stalking days because they do commercial AND residential installations.
Difficult to crawl through these air ducts discreetly, most opting for the circular tunnel style. Corners are your friend but curves mean your sweaty palms just slide on each push forward, the difficulty of keeping the Zippo lit while crawling. Shimmy to the vent for breathing holes. Maybe whisper to an employee asking to sneak you one of their famous iced coffees.
The humidity of New Orleans is enough to keep your apparel in these vents minimal: shorts, a small tee, occasionally just your birthday suit as you catch up on emails in this warm, compressed space. Not great for your health owing to the dust, cramped neck posture and general complete lack of light.
Costa uses Ductmate Industries branded shafts, which you actually prefer (ideally the larger models). This seems to be a newer installation so be sure to stretch first so you can read Rick Rubin’s memoir next to the scant light slats at either end. Ignore the stale stench of uninspired pastries.
The smell of McDonald’s is tempting for a half hour, until the constant odor of grease and preservatives waft into your personal space. Crawl out and try to avoid a lawsuit after absolutely horrifying an entire family in the bathroom.
Functional, no-frills air ducts. Sure, they can ventilate the entire store, but this HVAC system is old and shockingly out of date. You’re mostly covered within their stucco ceiling, which is definitely a plus for privacy, but also means you’re operating in complete darkness. Just bring a headlamp, then you should then be all set for some light breaking and entering.
Unfortunately most of the HVAC system here is connected, all going to a central room that is often locked. This forces you to be crafty in Peet’s, risky since you’re actually a fan of this chain and don’t want to be banned. Try to find your “air vent hookup” with an employee. Use coded language about HVAC repair to let them know you’re “on the level,” or just start wearing Carhartt-branded clothes.
The intricate labyrinthine maze of shafts make this air duct system impossible to navigate. Of course this was a Titus HVAC job, you could’ve guessed that with your eyes closed. You’re a fan of the pastries here, so try to find space above the oven (if you can even find it). Keep the volume down as you catch up on Shogun, and throw quarters into the tip jar from above.
Unfortunately the nearest location has a ventilation system that is always breaking, which means you keep encountering their HVAC repair guy. Occasionally a head pokes up, asking what you’re doing hiding in the air vents. But you’ve become friends with Jeff, occasionally catching up over MMA (his interest) or taxidermy antiquing (your interest). Much better conversation than the dead rats you usually find.
These convenience stores offer serviceable coffee to go in giant plastic jugs. Luckily there are 7-Elevens all over, most with a similar layout, so you’re able to navigate the entire duct system with relative ease. The entire ductwork job was installed by DuctSox, one of your favorites in the HVAC racket. Plus, this place indulges two of your ultimate vices: scratchers and taquitos. Find your favorite corner of the jointed duct, and catch up on the latest Danielle Steel!
A compact space unwelcoming for long bouts of time hiding in their air conditioning system, clearly manufactured by Lindab (you’re a big fan of their metal fittings). This place has solid breakfast burritos, maybe make one in the after-hours. Be sure to clean up for the morning staff, even though you’ve already been caught on security cameras.
These state of the art Nordfab air ducts result in the most comfortable, luxurious experience in your squatting life. Relax your spine in privacy and meditate, knowing all of the camping gear you brought allows you to spend the entire weekend here. Peeing in a mason jar, just like a real caribou in the wild!
You can straight-up get weird in this ductwork. Groove around the pre-insulated panels, leave sweaty imprints. The music is played so loud here so that there’s no way of creating a distraction. Plus you’re pretty sure this was a Kingspan-manufactured installation, so you can shimmy all night in these ducts and snack on stale baked goods! Be careful in the airport locations, best to have an inside hookup for premium air duct access.
Honestly, your favorite air ducts to hide in. Maybe it was the trips here with your father before he left. Maybe it’s the sugary aroma wafting out the door. Either way, you nearly fall into a comatose state as the glaze and cream wafts up into your nostrils. Let the sugar rush wave over you, murmur in bliss through the vents. Make employees think the store is haunted.
The unforgiving brick keeps the interiors around the ducts cool. You feel stylish inside this joint, opting to wear your bifocals and quill pen, despite no one able to see you. It is La Colombe, after all. You only read or write there to be seen. The dude in the flannel below you who looks like he has dedicated his life to Kurt Vonnegut knows what you’re talking about.
Ooh la la! Très chic! For when you want that high-class coffee feel, sneak into the air ducts of Intelligentsia. Even the air ducts are above you, in all aspects, including socially. This is finely-crafted, pretentious industrial construction at its finest. At least you can feel superior to everyone else while here at Intelligentsia, hiding alone, in the dark, in the ceiling. Who’s the “loser” now, dad?!
Hollywood actors filming an antebellum Southern drama are taken over by the racist spirits of people who died at the plantation where the film is set.
After defeating his arch-nemesis Arcane Swampy is presumably killed by Sunderland.
After breaking into his girlfriend’s house unannounced, Swamp Thing murders a Serial Killer.
Swamp Thing gets caught in a Zeta beam and tussles with Adam Strange.
Swamp Thing murders his enemies and reunites with Abby.
Swamp Thing is forced to mate with a sentient alien spaceship.
Abby and Swamp Thing have a flirtatious swim as she tells him all about her new job working with autistic children. We find that one of the kids lost his parents after they accidentally summoned a monkey demon with an Ouija board.
When she hears about a creature lurking in the swamps Abby returns to Louisiana hoping it’s Swamp Thing, but it’s just her dead dad as a Frankenstein and then he dies again.
Swamp Thing, Abby, and Etrigan The Demon prepare to face The Monkey King at the home for autistic children. Meanwhile Matt, after arguing with Abby about her not sleeping with him, gets drunk and crashes his car.
Still tormented by his inherited memories of being Alec Holland, Swamp Thing seeks closure by finding Alec’s body and giving it a proper burial.
A woman gets her period so bad she transforms into a werewolf.
Swamp Thing pushes his consciousness-shifting abilities to the limit and enters the afterlife. After a mind-bending conversation with the spirit of the man he thought he was, Swampy enlists help from Deadman, The Phantom Stranger, The Spectre, and Etrigan to find Abby’s soul and return it to her body.
In a dream Abby meets Caine and Able, who show her that through human history there have been several Swamp Things, with the beats of the story leading to his creation happening again and again. Then Caine kills Able again just for funsies.
In the fallout of her scandal, Abby leaves Louisiana for Gotham City, where she is mistaken for a prostitute and arrested again. Swamp Thing comes back from hell and reads all about it in the newspaper. He’s pissed.
Swamp Thing crashes Abby’s trial in Gotham and demands her release. When he is ignored, he causes plants to overgrow and Gotham begins transforming into a jungle.
The people of Gotham erect a statue in Swamp Thing’s honor. A memorial is held. Abby wrestles with her grief. Lightyears away, on an unknown blue planet, Swamp Thing emerges from the soil.
Swamp Thing saves Constantine’s life, but in doing so fails to stop the Invuche tribe from completing a ritual that will lead to a great evil snuffing out the light of the universe. Meanwhile, Abby is arrested for indecency when photos of her kissing Swamp Thing leak to the press.
Swamp Thing meets his wood elemental predecessors in The Parliament of Trees and gains a deeper understanding of his own potential. Meanwhile, a sleazy photographer takes pictures of Abby and Swamp Thing getting intimate.
Two couples, one person from each of which is barely hiding the fact that they’re having an affair, explore a haunted house. Turns out it is haunted, and Swamp Thing tries to save them.
Swampy meets Constantine in Illinois where a town is overrun with aquatic vampires.
Abby finds Swamp Thing growing back to life Baby Groot style. They are visited by the mysterious John Constantine, who informs Swamp Thing that he is a “wood elemental,” and is able to die and grow back anywhere in the world he chooses. He tells Swamp Thing to grow a new body in Illinois and meet him there in one week. Meanwhile, freaky demon shit happens all over the world.