For those that can't read the image:
>playing some mtg with my college group that meets up at my best friend's every friday
>one of the players asks if his friend can join next time we play
>nobody has a problem with it
>next friday rolls around
>everybody gets set up
>knock on the door
>best friend opens the door
>immediate regret
>actual fucking fecal smell emanates from this mass of unkempt hairy adipose
>try my god damndest to be polite and try to ignore the smell and just play.
>he picks up the game pretty quickly, and thankfully he doesn't speak too often because each time he opens his mouth the halitose burns my nostrils.
>we tolerate this for exactly 10 minutes before the poli-sci dude in our group slams his can of altoids on the plaguelord's side of the table and blurts "do not fucking speak in my direction again until you've fucking emptied this your breath smells like death."
>dead fucking silence for 10 seconds.
>plaguelord gets up, apologizes, and leaves
>we try to pretend this never happened.
>next week rolls around, its still on everyone's mind.
>knock on the door
>takes a few moments to recognize the stranger in front of us
>holy shit its the plaguelord, and he's fucking clean
>completely shaved his patchy neckbeard
>is wearing what looks like a brand new clothes, his jeans even still have a sticker on them
>smells vaguely like strawberries instead of rotten onions
>teeth still stained but the halitose is completely gone and replaced with mint.
>apologized for last week, asked if he could play again
>fast forward a few months and now he's a regular at our table, he even brings homemade snacks.
Has this ever happened in your groups or is this some sort of anomaly/divine intervention?
Damn you for making me shed a tear for a comment on a greentext post, what a wholesome story.
Really shows the impact that your family and upbringing has on you. You were good friends and good people for helping him out, so good to hear stories like this.
Legit, my mom and dad were incredible about that kind of thing. I was one of those kids that always wanted to help my friends when they needed it, and my folks put their home, and their income behind that, every time.
That guy, Keith, wasn't the first or last person I was allowed to open our home to in one way or another.
They really did lead by example in how to treat people, especially friends. The number of times an aunt, uncle, or a friend of the family, would spend a few weeks with us after life hit them hard is high enough I can't count them. Goes back to before I can remember because there's folks that spent time with us when I was a baby that still come to visit my dad and me, telling stories about me as a baby.