Subaru enters a card game tournament for kids and faces the final boss in the first round

hololive's Oozora Subaru plays Minecraft.

Original stream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vep5k-IT3rc&

@OozoraSubaru
My mama would always warn me about ‘wolves in sheep’s clothing.’ I think she had it backwards. Wolves are no danger to anyone unless you’re a pig who lives in anything less substantial than a brick house. On the other hand, there is no beast more insidious, conniving, or down-right deleterious than a sheep. It’s no wonder the Book of Revelations leans into the whole lamb motif with a will. And consider me unsurprised when T.S. Eliot ended the Wasteland with the line: This is how the world ends, not with a bang, but with a ‘baa’.

Now, you might be wondering, why the vitriol? Sheep are cute, you may say. Counting them helps you fall asleep, you may argue. And shearing them of their coat provides your Gran-gran with the wool she so desperately needs to knit you your Christmas socks. We don’t want Grandma’s special little boy to have cold toe-toes on Christmas, now do we?

To hell with your toe-toes, I say. Let ‘em freeze. Anyone wool-headed enough to wear wool socks deserves all the chilblains they got coming. Us ducks, on the other hand, are proud of our feet, webbed toes and all. We let them breathe. We let them feel the warmth of the sunshine. In short, we let our feet live their best lives. So have fun shelling out fifty-bucks for snorkelling fins next time you vacay in Cancun. You’ll catch me out in the Gulf free-footing it like Daffy Duck running in place over a precipitous drop. Eat my sand, wool lovers. Those conch shells are MINE.

Anyway, back to sheep. Did I mention I wasn’t a fan? I think I developed a rather negative opinion of the ungulate after coming afoul with one such specimen. I believe the beast’s name was ‘Watame.’ It was the night of the local Summer Festival, and I was up to my molars in a candy apple when this dubious little creature, looking for all the world like a ball of cotton candy on legs, comes galumphing out of nowhere, galloping up the path between the stalls right at me.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am the dictionary definition of a cool cucumber. Pressure? What’s that? Stress? Never heard of it. I do not panic. I do not get flustered. And, sure as God’s shoeshine, I do not fear man or beast.

But when I saw this animated dust bunny barrelling down at me with all the momentum of a runaway train, I’ll admit the nerves were slightly shaken. Shaken, mind you, not stirred.

And so, I held my ground.

What a mistake that was.

It was like a gnat versus a fly swatter. A pin drop against a thunderclap. Brazil against Germany during the 2014 World Cup. I wound up in a rice field a good three country acres over in the next district. It took a search party sixteen hours to find me. And the worst of it? My candy apple was never seen again.

As for the sheep, she got off scot-free. The incident went to trial (naturally, I pressed charges). But when it was her turn to sit in the cross-examination box, she simply said, and I quote, ‘Watame did nothing wrong.’ The jury cheered. They actually cheered. When the verdict came in, I got sentenced to 24 hours community service for ‘being a nuisance.’

All this to say, it doesn’t matter what kind of clothing they’re wearing. Just watch out for sheep.
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