A 2 is gotten
by a Panda
who is promptly derailed by Beady Eyes
, who takes a bite out of the toast on which man is spreading himself.
Hate - the bite that sets the universe in motion.
Meanwhile, in the Semi Democratic People's Republic of New Manchuria,
Honorable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII. decides to start
playing with his willy behind his desk.
is born, immediately slaughtering every single medical professional in a 500-yard radius. Of course, this means that
no one is around to cut the umbilical chord, so he tied it around his waist and slumped his dead mother over his shoulders and left the hospital whistling
the song "A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left" by Andrew Bird. This caused a passing
Ran-tan-tan to start dancing, thinking that the deaths of everybody around allowed him to finally dance in secret. However,
(OT: >>12 seems to have accidentally switched to past tense, but that tends to work better for narrative anyway so I'm sticking with it.)
he planned and plan that was planning to plan a plan but the plan found a plan that was too
plannish. Fortunately,
as always,
as you might expect,
SOMEONE had to come in and take a shit everywhere, because
it was National Shit Day, and
they had a lot of DQN Bell that morning.
There was a group of rebels nearby who were up to
no good. And they started making trouble in my neighborhood.
I got in one little fight and my Mom got scared, and said
"You're moving in with your auntie and your uncle in Bel-Air."
The YOU ARE HERE sign said "You are here" - and all that tried to
escape my throat came lodged itself awkwardly within the small threshold behind the tonsils. What was
penis
so we ran out of it and found ourselves on a secondary earth where there was just children who aged ever 1000 centuries. Upon seeing my ship they
began wailing in an unholy baritone, shattering the hypothesis that
my ship had came to deliver a millennium of love and peace, which it obviously was not, because
it was bristling with weapons and full to the gunwales with heavily armed Marines. Though we suppose that for a certain definition of "peace," "peace" is what will exist behind them after they pass through. But then--
A shot rang out!
My face!
The Ran-tan-tan had stowed away on the ship during the shit fiasco, and was shot!
My... hnng~... my chest...
the sexy nurse from pokemon then gave me some stuff which she was L.. S.. D.. woahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Suddenly,
Ran-tan-tan stumbled backwards, towards the rail of the ship. Many crew members had a grim look on their face, and
suddenly
without any warning
, catching every midget in the room unawares
, he began a horrifying transformation into
franz kafka
And Franz Kafka said, "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM?" To which we replied, "You're a giant cockroach who now has a DRILL PENIS, remember?" And he said "Oh. Right."
And then--
... he was struck by a large gust of wind and flew overboard! So long, Ran-tan-tan man!
Meanwhile, George Bush CXXIX was munching
cat fanny
and slurping on worms, which
... were high in protein, and low on carbs! He learned about this diet from...
gnawing on his own
productive analysis, chiefly comprised of observations of overweight and obese pedestrians. Thereafter
cat fanny
, the affectionate nickname of Lord...
Catfannerkins, said to the dieting assassin,
who helped people lose weight by killing their appetites.
, "You've killed my appetite. Now it's time for a new target:
to infinity; and beyond! Come with me,
if you want to live
you must perform fellatio
on the Golden Phallus, hidden in the depths of
Arkanthar's caverns that descend toward its now cool, solid core, composed primarily of
butt
and latex.
Meanwhile, George Bush CXIXX is discovering the first time-machine ever made, that will allow him to avoid the political mistakes of the past, with one flaw...
When it sends you back in time, you arrive completely naked.
And so, arriving in
the year 2525, he met Robopa. [ Lɯ`] Beep boop.
"Why would a robot need to drink?" asked George.
"You haven't met Beady Eyes yet, have you?" responded the world-weary robot, who was drinking Robot Gin.
Meanwhile, the aforementioned Beady Eyes
died and was swiftly
resurrected with
magical phoenix semen
@@@@ ,.-.A
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@@@ i /__^,..--,i@
@@., ' M@@LRA
@@i <mΪΙΩ'@@@@@
@@i@!iGE-E)!|. @ Don't threaten ME with a good time.
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Meanwhile, George twiddled his thumbs and
found himself becoming strangely attracted to Robopa.
George, you see, had metamorphosed into an electromagnet while we were all staring horrified at Beady Eyes.
Unfortunately, we all know the effects of powerful magnets on computer storage devices.
Suddenly, this entire exchange was overshadowed by
the giant loli in the sky
looking for her lost cat. However, who should then appear but
Beady eyes, in a cat costume
who began to maliciously
urinate
with vinegar
The great sky loli was not pleased with this turn of events,
and killed him.
However, Beady Eyes is immortal and
burps a lot
Knight of the Round Table
who walks a lot
and spams a lot
and listens to post-randomcore-folk-gypsy-punk.
Suddenly, a plot device appeared!
Which was quickly stolen by beady eyes! "What are you going to do about it?", he says.
[100 blank pages in the middle of the book]
were expunged at the request of the publisher, no matter how much the author whinged about how they would be utterly essential to his vision as a true artiste, and so on. When his editor tried to calm him down by saying that paper doesn't grow on trees, the author needed to have a long lie-down. Eventually, though, he did get his revenge by
breaking the fourth wall and placing a passage of himself talking to his publisher into the middle of his story. Meanwhile, in Cambodia,
a 100GET is bundled into an unmarked cloth sack and thrown onto the back of a cargo ship bound for New York. At this time, nobody could have known that
Deequn is sitting alone in his room, under the light of his desk lamp. It's a dark, cloudy night. In all this loneliness, Deequn wished for the girl he just drew on paper to be real. Suddenly...!
>>101
his window shatters and rips through the piece of paper.
"Ha ha," laughed Beady Eyes, who--
died when the carrot he had stuffed up his ass exploded.
A Clonepa, witnessing the explosion, said "Wow, that's a lot of
PINGAS", shortly before being consumed by the blast.
Meanwhile, less than two blocks away, sinister plans approached completion as
Grandpa minced among bad vats and jeroboams in the hissing laboratory under his house, preparing a
clone of himself... this was the BIRTH of the CLONEPA. His works came to fruition, and before long
( EΦE) I got to eat ice cream!
But this was no ordinary ice cream
, oh no...
It was CLONECREAM!
"I AM ICE CREAM CLONEPA!" he shouted with a voice like nerdy thunder, and he
started eating himself! Meanwhile, Grandpa was
busy complaining about contemporary
short novel writing
in pan-chromatic resonances and other highly ambient domains.
"Arf," he said.
Now you may be thinking that Grandpa had turned into a dog or some sort of sea lion. However, Arf is in fact Grandpa's assistant and old college buddy and he was meerly calling him over. Arf emerged from the shadows
and said "Arf."
Arf said to him "Grandpa, we'll never nominate for the Nobel prize with all this shitty writing & clonepa references. What shall we do?". Grandpa was hesitant to let his old buddy know his plans...
and therefore didn't. Meanwhile, a mere 200m away,
there was a peculiar incident taking place 200m back from where we originally came from.
The great sky loli was displeased about her sudden relative lack of importance to the story, and therefore hijacked
a dirigible. "We are going," she began dramatically, "to annex Poland!" And with that,
Poland was annexed. Meanwhile, at the Hall of Doom...
a single feather hovered, about a foot above a
place where mighty hero Tristan was standing captivated by the sight of a chest full of
loli's
which is what he called lollypops because he was emotionally childlike
and misused apostrophe's, enraging the nearby
Arf. "Arf," he growled, because he was enraged. Suddenly--
a large truck smashed through the wall! In a cloud of smoke and debris a silhouette appeared. It began walking towards them and emerged, revealing himself as none other than
a cloud of smoke and debris which had been mistaken for a person. To this, Tristan said "
By the power of
my local greengrocer's apple's, banana's and cherry's, that is the most cunningly disguised cloud I have ever seen!" He then looked into the truck driver's cabin, but found only the corpse of a man with a peculiarly-shaped
hat. Tristan took this as a summon from his mistress, the Great Sky Loli, and he and Arf promptly hijacked a dirigible. As they landed in the newly annexed Poland, they found
that Poland was annexed. And so George Bush CXXIX
awoke and realized that it was all a dream.
THE END
...NOT!
, as some people believe, the beginning.
EPILOGUE: Dying Flames of a Dokyun's Heart
The lonely figure stumbled through the ruins of the former Semi-Democratic Loli's Republic of Poland, on his face a look of resignation to the inevitable fate of mankind; that inescapable debt of mortality. A single tear rolled silently down his dirt streaked face. It was hard to believe that but a few hours earlier,
Beady Eyes had
died.
The subsequent lack of thread derailment caused a catastrophic
run in on-topic threads that
gave Master an urge to bait
the Great Sky Loli into an intimate business deal involving
Beady Eyes plush toys. "Kawaii~!" she squeaked.
I like Claire!
was the name of the company set up to manufacture the toys. What the Great Sky Loli didn't know, however, was that
nobody really liked Claire, who
was actually 2-Amino-3-(1H-indol-3-yl)propanoic acid-chan, who was actually Marisa Kirisame, who was actually a girl with schizophrenia.
from THE FUTURE
to which she would inevitably have to return in the tear-jerking final scene. But before that, she
totally hit on Beady Eyes. As soon as he
revealed that he had died on several occasions (>>71,72,87,88,103,104,143,144), she realised that
penis
is not something he ever had
lacked
the capacity to talk about at great length. This was probably due to the fact he didn't have one, having lost it in
the great beady eyes war of 1992, which was started due to
a lack of the eyes needed to cook good soup for both world leaders.
Editor's note: >>162 was sacked for his blasphemous mention of times prior to 1993, which obviously cannot exist in the universe.
totally hit on Beady Eyes. As soon as he
penis
mightier than the sword, he agreed.
he put on a frilly dress and touhou hat
grabbed a bat just in case
and went out to the universe to celebrate a lack of christmas.
"It's a Festivus for the rest of us," he squeaked in his high squeaky voice.
Yet before he knew it, his frilly dress
and Touhou hat
started a christmas festival, right there, right then.
Which Reimu perceived as another "incident," and so she came to subdue the haunted dress and hat with a spray of ofuda danmaku. Meanwhile--
the Polish uprising against their tyrannical overlord, the GSL, was approaching fruition. In just two days,
Reimu's danmaku accidentally reached the headquarters of the Polish uprising and
and then the characters killed the author.
As the author was, of course, the one who wrote this, it was considered suicide. At the author's funeral,
members of the Westboro Baptist Church
did not like that persons twitter account so they
tracked down the owner, kidnapped him and slowly
stroked his earlobes.
As the Ferengian moaned in ecstasy,
the Westboro Baptist cultists plunged a
hamster
Without warning, a huge
statue of H.P. Baxxter was erected
right in front of a mysterious alien's
flux capacitator.
After craftily hiding the glowing letter Y inside his
Y-chromosomes, he
began a ritual to invoke the
masculinity that lies in the heart of every true boy across the galaxy! And, slowly but surely,
bystanders began to point and laugh
Their interruption caused the ritual to go awry, resulting in
the GSL suddenly deciding to ban the letter Y inside the nation of Canada, unaware that
the failure of the masculinity invoking ritual had caused every man in the galaxy to become a catgirl!
"Nya~!" said the former Gerald Jay Sussman, before
conjuring our spirits with
the aid of an absurdly oversized
Canadian, eh?
The sudden influx of catgirls caused a dramatic increase in
nerd murders
by people suffering from Moéshit Redundancy Disorder which
was reported to the Department of Redundancy Department.
and that message accidentally was received by the Ministry of Silly Walks.
penis
shaped protrusions were found on the side of
his penis, which
exploded into many dick fragments, killing at least 3, including
the author.
(The remains of this manuscript were received posthumously.)
Suddenly, a corpse fell through the skylight!
The deadly dick fragments had claimed their fourth victim:
The great GSL herself! Unfortunately, the corpse
was mistakenly delivered to the Ministry of Silly Walks, thus patching up the plot a bit. Meanwhile, in Japan
Godzilla
movies remained inexplicably popular. Roger Ebert, on a trip to Fukushima, accidentally grew to a height of 700 ft, and gave the NHK news report about his subsequent exploits three thumbs up.
And that, children, is how Nyan Cat was created.
The end.
Part 2: Vultures on the boundary of the river wheel
It was a quiet day and the children were playing serendipitously on the riverbank just outside the quaint village of
Detroit
Suddenly, a huge river wheel came
tumbling down from the mountains crushing all in its path. Behind it,
Detroit was unfortunately not crushed.
However, Dearborn was crushed, and the factories that belonged to Ford
cried out in anguish, "How could this occur?
We worked and toiled, but all it was for naught,
Our dreams and cars are crushed by vicious Fate.
The river wheel turns without remorse,
Like time and death it has no love nor hate,
Its monstrous spokes whirl as a heartless beast,
Blindly striking down both weak and strong,
And as it spins, we people sing this song:"
"Fate, savage and empty, you are a turning wheel, your position is uncertain, your favour is idle and always likely to disappear; covered in shadows and veiled you bear upon me too; now my back is naked through the sport of your wickedness."
So sang the survivors of Dearborn as the river wheel tumbled through and onto its next destination:
Dr. Robotnik's lab
which was demolished in a matter of seconds. Dr Robotnik
, however, managed to survive for several more minutes due to a previously unknown mysterious
property of excessive body fat.
Meanwhile, back in Detroit, the playground was pregnant with sexual tension.
Suddenly, a wild Snorlax appears.
It accidentally inhales 5 children.
And then made suggestive comments and sexually harassed the shocked bystanders. The moral of this tale is, of course,
that as long as long as you know which direction is North
you can easily fart a
happy tune
with your buttocks
clenched in a furious state of tetany. Anyway, as we discussed in >>1,
twenty three hyphens
isn't a proper
acceptable discussion of nouns
but that's ok because grammar is bullshit anyway
as was previously said by run-on-man.
In other news, 2012 is rapidly approaching
with it's rather disappointing lack of
penis
enhancers that fail to deliver the true nature of the beast.
Spam mail
no longer exists, thanks to the combined efforts of
420JEWKILLER666, 88HITLER_BOI, and 69JEWNIGGERS. Sadly,
spam mail has been replaced with spam in-brain projection through the combined efforts of
420JEWKILLER666, 88HITLER_BOI, and 69JEWNIGGERS. Sadly,
said spam in-brain projection runs on buggy software with a broken recursive function, due to the combined efforts of
420JEWKILLER666, 88HITLER_BOI, and 69JEWNIGGERS. Sadly,
their data center was highly secured so that nobody could get in and end the process that was creating a time-loop due to its shoddy programming.
"If only we'd read our SICP!" lamented 88HITLER_BOI. Meanwhile,
Sonic the Hedgehog
Died, taking Sega with it to never plague video games with it's games again.
Also, FISTING.
ͺ which occurred on that fateful day took the form of BROFISTING.
"Cool story, bro," said Knuckles the Echidna.
Then he went off to fist his buddies.
30,000 years ago,
a great battle was taking place between
Siouxsie & The Banshees and
the buxom man-ladies of the Gro'tai Kingdom
over
the finer points of
FISTING vs. BROFISTING
which led to the establishment of
The Semi Democratic People's Republic of New Manchuria (which you may remember from >>7)
"Oh, yes I do remember it!" - said an innocent bystander. He had no idea that
in the time it took him to utter those words,
Orcs
had already come up with a plan to
knock knock
whos there
buttcrack
buttcrack who
buttcrack jeffery
" said the schizophrenic,
I fucked a cat
with the Ultra Deluxe Dildotronic 20X6, which
looks like a simple polished stick with a small exception of
a curiously placed popcorn machine, perfect in times
Lagiacrus dragon dildo complete with electric shock action
placed at the third Lagrange point
and I got her pregnant somehow.
Ever since I read the SICP,
no invocation of spells could ready me for
SURPRIZE BUTTSECKS
which I enjoyed because MY ANUS is
nano-augmented with
dingleberries.
I have to refresh
my scrotum with
dingleberries.
Or GAY MAGIC, whichever is available.
A triumphant cry of "300 GET!" echoed across
Sparta
, attracting the attention of
Phil Collins
, the renowned artist, who was out on his morning walk. "Look over there, Peter!" Collins pointed towards the peaks of the mountains.
Tumbling down the sides of the Alps surrounding the little Swiss town Collins calls home were lots of little
Detroit. The smell of
strawberries permeated the air, completely negating the general aura of
Nk'uko byatangajwe na Perezida w'uyu muryango
.
Meanwhile,
sgd etbj nm
the moon, there were two guys
"βηΘ’©" suggested Takakazu Abe, to which Masaki Michishita replied
"only if you suck on my left testicle". As it turns out, this was a password which activated the moon for it's true purpose:
destroying Clocktown.
The citizens of Clocktown were
outraged at the prospect of no longer being able to call themselves citizens of Clocktown because they all died.
The two moon swelling homosexuals found themselves feeling somewhat
confused, as the last post would make a lot more sense if I posted "dwelling" rather than "swelling". Anyway, as I was saying, the two moon dwelling homosexuals found themselves feeling somewhat
lonely, as they weren't aware of each others' presences on the moon, so they spent their time with creative pursuits, one in art and the other in music.
Somebody might ask, "But where exactly were dokyuns?"They were here: ttp://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/73/Pale_Blue_Dot.png
There were billions and billions of dokyuns, all of which
were NEET and petite rather than sweet or l33t.
However, the dokyuns had failed to take into account the
big fat
chance of having Gradius III arcade machines rain down from the sky.
Suddenly, a ghast/metroid shit comes out and starts shooting fireballs.
Phil Collins
took a direct hit to the face, causing
massive internal bleeding
The rest of this story may be accessed by platinum members on my website. We now bring you to
Gay Gary's Gulag of Gaping Gaynus
Penis
festival, run by kind volunteers from the quaint town of
Cocksuck, Alabama, which strangely has more homosexuals than
one might expect of a town whose entire population is female. The festival lasted three days and
had to be ended prematurely because of
GAY MAGIC
The cancellation of the festival prompted an outcry from the
gayness in yer anus.
And so, while gay disease was protesting on Uranus, our hero took
a massive diarrhea dump
and then posted about it on the internet. Many people
were honoured to look at included pictures and many were
not. Meanwhile, in Gensokyo,
Reimu and Marisa stared at the screen in disbelief, then closed the browser and turned off the computer, slowly shaking their heads.
THE END
Or... is it?
THE END fell from the sky, bringing the GSL down with it.
Then Porky Pig busted out of a drum and said
"I'M ON DA POWDAH, I'M REAL COKED UP!"
"YOU GOT PLENTY HENNESSEY SO FILL UP MY CUP!"
The powder he referred to was, of course, actually
raspberry creamola foam.
HOT STRIPPING COEDS
was written in huge neon letters outside the institute of
GAY MAGIC
AND RAINBOW TOLERANCE
, foretelling the coming of a veritable smorgasbord of
big dicks of all colors
drifting across the blue sky
"Phallus sighted off the starboard side!" shouted
captain Gay Sparkle, "Brace for
surprize buttsecks," he giggled.
Then the entire novel died of AIDS.
THE END
THE BEGINNING
of something beautiful - Doctor Fujiwara strolled confidently into the hospital room and spoke in a calm, controlled voice: "I have found the cure to AIDS, Mr DQN Short Novel. We will be starting treatment immediately."
"That's wonderful!" gasped DQN Short Novel, "But what is the treatment?"
Doctor Fujiwara arched an eyebrow and replied "Well,
first we must engage in a change of subject so deliciously subtle that somebody who is not really paying attention won't notice. By the way, your horse is on fire."
The horse in question was being
raped by one of those magma demons that were raping Sakura in that recent Zone flash. Coincidentally,
the demon was actually Doctor Fujiwara's estranged brother. Upon seeing him for the first time in decades,
everybody else then caught on fire and died.
But then they all came back to life and engaged on proper festivities to commemorate the reunion of Doctor Fujiwara and his brother. Mr DQN Short Novel, however,
was a bit pissed off about >>364,371 trying to ruin the novel and therefore didn't participate in the festivities. Instead he started
Surveying the scene from afar, a young girl sighed dramatically and said to herself "
", for she was mute. All her life she had wished for an opportunity like this to arise, but now that it had, she was decidedly unsure of herself.
Suddenly, Reimu showed up and said "dayuum gurl, u fine!" "Wanna go back to my place?". The mute girl remained silent, unable to respond. Then, gave a soft nod and went along.
Reimu thought to herself: "I hit the fuckin' jackpot!". Thinking of all of the lesbian sex she was about to have.
End of Chapter 2
Chapter Three: Where the fuck is the plunger, and should ▇▇▇▇'s tanooki costume have gigantic balls attached to the front to add realism to it?
DQN-kun was busy trying to put on a third mitten when
the mitten came to life, exclaiming "Please DQN-kun, let me
touch Espeon
penis
with penis
"Certainly not!" replied DQN-kun, "That Espeon is a bad influence! I don't want you seeing her again, let alone doing any kind of frottage. Do I make myself clear?"
The mitten looked sorry for itself and
decided now would be a good time to engage in one of those Touhou marathons he was so fond of, but
felt like swimming in a pool of grease
while dressed as a penis
in a condom. However the mitten's healthy exercises were interrupted by a gentle touch of Espeon's penis who opposed DQN-kun's idea of
waifu selection
, thus causing an internal combustion to take place in the region of his
penis
And that was when Honorable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII appeared and decided to finally enact his secret plan that he had kept quiet all along...
He then summoned godzilla and stood on it's head whilst donning a frilly dress and a Touhou hat, which gave him Touhou powers.
He was stronger than Batman, Super Man, The Hulk, and Woody the Woodpecker, when
Batman, Super Man, The Hulk, Woody the Woodpecker, Reimu, Marisa and 1000 lawyers teamed up and collectively challenged him to a spellcard battle. Honorable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII had no choice but to
write a lengthy post about it on his livejournal, but before he could do so
the CLASS ACTION spellcard forced Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII off blogosphere
But his plans would not be foiled so easily.
"You haven't seen the last of me!" he threatened, "I'll be back to steal the 500 GET, mark my words!"
Nobody was actually listening to him, because they were all distracted by
the upcoming 400 GET, which was going to change everything, again.
was all that was written on the piece of paper held by
Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII. "Hahahaha," laughed Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, "Everything goes by my plan. You fell for it, thinking that I'm out until 500 GET? But here I am, Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, a man who got 400 GET! HAHAHA! Fools, your minds are nothing but a toy for my knowledgeable prowess!" And tried to awkwardly
retreat out of a locked wooden door while simultaneously avoiding shoes thrown at him.
He retreated outside and found an alleyway to his left. He went down there and hid behind a trashcan. Suddenly he heard a sound that made his blood practically freeze.
Some bum burped in the trashcan which immediately alerted everyone to Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII's location.
"Come with me if you want to live." Said a shadowy figure at the end of the alley.
It looked like Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII had no choice but to go along.
He ran after the shadowy figure which led him out of the alley and into a street. The street was dusty and the buildings surrounding him were constructed from wood and steel. It appears Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII had time traveled back to 1850 - The American Old West.
He looked behind him and the alley had disappeared. As he turned back around, there stood in front of him was
the TARDIS.
Unfortunately however it appeared to be out of service, as indicated by the sign taped lazily upon it which read, "Out of service".
Just then, scores of Arab-themed Touhou-ish characters appeared in the street and in all the windows of the town, showering Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII with a danmaku of flying shoes. Dodging and backflipping madly, he dove through the bat-wing gateway of a saloon, only to see
That he had entered what appeared to be a gay saloon filled with men in assless chaps and coyboy hats.
Then, one man stood in front of him and did a pelvic thrust in his direction, shooting a dart out of his crotch at Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, hitting him right in the neck. Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII ended up collapsing as the dart was laced with a sleeping sedative.
Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII awoke to find himself
tied up and stripped of jewish gold which he had taken when
all of the events going on earlier had happened and we lost track of him. Sadly, the case of the Jewish gold would never reach the light of day. However, this is the story...
all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air.
"If anything, I could say this cat was reir Forget it--" said Woll Smoth, just before being tackled by Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII for posting captchas and Bel-Airing in his thread.
"Now," said Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, "where was I? Right, about the Jew gold. You see, it all started..."
on a sunny day just a few years after the discovery of the internet. Kids were playing in gardens, laughing at rainbows in the sprinklers. Birds were singing and flowers were blooming.
"Tworlot Sporkle had just taught me a valuable lesson about friendship," continued Woll Smoth. "Wait a minute. Goddommit, Fronk!" he shouted, as he was hit in the head with a shoe.
Suddenly, Wool Smooth popped out of nowhere and clashed in a death-struggle with Woll Smoth.
"Die! Die you, bastard," shouted Wool Smooth as he was making Woll Smoth struggle.
To which Woll Smoth replied, "No! No, you die, block porson!"And made Wool Smooth struggle in return.
Meanwhile, Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII continued his story, "...as I said it was a pleasant day. Anybody would love to take a stroll on a such fine day. However, it wasn't that enjoyable for
molesting pigeons in the park, which is my favorite springtime activity." His audience gasped audibly. "But I'll be damned if a little heightened security is going to stand in the way of that."
At the apex of his narration, Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII was cut short once more. Wool Smooth's blood-curdling cries of anguish crashed upon scores of mahogany furnishings as he crashed through the door, incurring damages which would cost a small amount to repair. Continuing to struggle, for he appears capable of little else, Wool smooth thrashed about in what might have been a brilliant display of interpretive dance had he not bumped into a large dresser, felling its contents, and in fact the dresser itself, upon him.
"You hove doed, and I om not doed," proclaimed Woll Smoth, with a particularly gentlemanly raise of his fist.
http://youtu.be/nUCvjRU0neM North Corea quality!
Seeing >>422's broken body lying pitifully at their feet, Woll Smoth and Wool Smooth decided to put aside their differences and work together to
discover a cure for Wool Smooth's peculiar medical ailment - namely, that he is deceased.
And Woll Smoth bent his body to inspect the dresser, and when his face was close enough a fist punched a hole through the wood and hit Woll Smoth in the nose.
"Ooh, OW!" said Woll Smoth.
"Hahahaha! You fool! I'm not doed, I'm simply mutilated a bit," laughed mighty Wool Smooth in his face! And then Woll Smoth jumped on Wool Smooth and Wool Smooth jumped on Woll Smoth and they began to struggle once more.
Meanwhile, Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII carefully looted >>422 body and took his boots. He packed them together with the one that hit Woll Smoth in the head before the struggle. He coughed and continued his riveting story,
"So, it all happened one day when I met this old Jewish guy by the name of Dewey Cheatham Goldstein. He had just told me about an old legend dating back to Biblical times. As you can imagine, it involved lots of Jew gold. My memory from those days are hazy, but it went something like this..." said Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII.
Suddenly, Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII was shot in the face twelve times by
a wild BULBASAUR playing around with a loaded gun using its lovely tentacles. It picked up the gun earlier in the day when
Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII was preparing his speech. He was trying to remember a Jewish story of Dewey Cheatham Goldstein which went something like this:
Once upon a time there was a
beautiful transvestite called Dewey Cheatham Goldstein, who owned a pile of Jew gold. Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII stole the gold by distracting her with
Dr. Robotnik's
latest invention, created specifically for this purpose: a fully automated
data reduction pipeline for the FRODOSpec integral field spectrograph which in layman terms was just
an easier way to search for hobbits, which is yelling at midgets.
And Dr. Robotnik just couldn't stop yelling at midgets, because it's hobbit-forming.
Meanwhile, in the offices of the Pun Police
Sean Connery was playing Jeopardy
with Dr. Robotnik's PINGAS
, who went by the name of Charles. Charles had
five arms
dealers working for him in various countries. Because of his contacts in the arms trade, he was able to procure
prototypes that have not been
inside filthy JEWish rectums. Yet.
Somewhere else in this vast world, a vipper hijacked a dokyun for pocket change.
The Dokyun changed the VIPPER's pockets,
feeling satisfied with the sew service provided, the VIPPER proposed an affiliation between SAOVQ and DQN. However,
t'was not to be. As any self-respecting Dokyun will tell you, SAoVQ
would not allow any cooperation without a price. After all, Daddy Cool
is a JEW and SAoVQ is fags. The price VIPPER demand is gay sex involving trace amounts of scat and 4chan memes.
It's an evil circle. Daddy Cool's brilliant plan to deprive Jews from their jew gold, for which he invented VIPcoins. But it backfired. Anxious VIPPERS weren't the Jews. In desperation they had to commit petty crimes just to be able to pay him enough. As the days of secretly exchanging VIPcoins for gold and then receiving them back as a "gift", hebrewness of Daddy Cool grew and grew, turning him into a Jew...
...Into the biggest Jew the world ever seen.
His black heart craved for the pure essence of
an abrupt change of topic. Meanwhile, on a fishing vessel in the North Sea,
all engines stopped for reasons that could only be explained by
there being a problem with the engine in some way.
"Keikaku doori," said Beady Eyes, who had never previously displayed any talent for foreign languages.
Smug Fathead leaped dramatically into the scene, having spotted his nemesis, Beady Eyes. "You!" he shouted.
.The engine had a problem.
It was numb, dumb and full of cum.
Just like this novel!
But that was besides the point. We had engine problems and we needed a solution. Since Beady Eyes and Smug Fathead were too busy having gay sailor sex, the only one we could call on to fix this problem was
nobody because the engine got sucked into a spacial vortex sending it off to somewhere in Gensokyo after catching on fire and exploding, killing everything around it with the force of a nuclear bomb because I said so.
The end!
of >>461's ridiculous input. Anyway, as we were saying, the only one we could call on to fix this problem was
dead because they died since they were killed.
The end!
Part 3, chapter 3 The Legend of Zelda: Phantasy Star Online Chrono Trigger Monster Hunter Blazblue Project Diva: under the moon loli to issho r @`
VC: courshable
Um, there was an unknown island in the the middle of the
Laser kingdom.
penis
Was considered a delicacy among the native Faget tribe.
One member of the tribe, known as
PenPen,
whose sis was IsIs,
the wretched penis harlot.
Mexican PenPen screamed
There was a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder!
PenPen was a gundam.
Well, maybe more of a Gundam fan. As much as a penguin could be, anyway. "Wark wark," he quacked excitedly. Those Gundam Wing doujin he'd ordered had finally arrived in the mail.
Suddenly, an enraged 50 metre tall radioactive
cat who referred to itself as "Espeon"
sang the song of sorrow,
"Wark," warked PenPen sadly, meaning (in Penguinese) "Almost five hundred posts and we're still talking about Beady Eyes and dick jokes? Jesus wept."
Then, Espeon took PenPen's Gundam doujin and his Ika Musume fig because Espeon is a hairy butt
Densha Otoko.
Was the only fig Espeon refused to take, for reasons unknown. Some say it's because
he ran out of hands, but we all know the true reason is that
he wasn't able to come up with a "fig leaf" to cover up such a request. While he was lost in thought, PenPen stole back the doujin and gave it to his male housemate, whom he felt needed to "man up" (the idiom in Penguinese is, oddly, identical) and surely nothing's more masculine than Heero Yuy's speeches before battle.
Meanwhile, many miles beneath the surface of the planet Mars...
...lived a merry little mole named Mike. He was his time browsing DQN. Then he noticed the thread that would forever change his life. That thread's name was...
( ί -ί) Post unhappy things...
The thread that became less and less lighthearted and more and more depressive. Without Post Happy Things thread to balance it out that thread started to spread its disease all other the board, slowly turning its inhabitants into misanthropes and sociopaths.
Mike himself became a troubled person which
forced him to strengthen his resolve and delve deeper into the painful thing called depression. After experiencing his own little life disappointment, he was ready to step through it's doors and drive himself insane with facing all of his painful memories and regrets to strengthen himself, but only found himself getting weaker and weaker. He tried with all his might to find some sort of strength that depression held, but kept getting weaker and kept destroying his own mentality.
Mike became a pathological liar and lied to everybody to keep this a secret to himself and only to himself because that's the only one who he truly trusted. The whole "merry" thing is nothing more than a charade, but he didn't mind since it only affected him.
One day, when Mike was busy playing a game on his PC
he heard a tiny voice calling out to him somewhere in his subterranean tunnel system. It sounded far, and he
couldn't really be bothered to go and investigate. It turns out the voice was actually
a product of his schizophrenic mind. He had been in the tunnels so long that his mind was starting to become unstable. As we know, this could only mean
one of a few things!
But we'll come back to that later. Anyway, the point of this whole story about Mike the depressed Martian mole was to illustrate the
widespread alienation that exists, in the year 5000, when man is spreading himself across the solar system,
and eating pizza. But that's not the point. The real point to all of this was
to fill in time before the upcoming 500 GET. And, if you'll cast your gaze back to the previous GETs, you'll
probably start complaining that GETs aren't what they used to be in your day, until you get distracted by some young whippersnapper kicking your cane away. Anyway, why
wouldn't some asshole make a couple of consequent posts to steal the GET and
waste it on some personal fetish? Well, the answer is simply
penis.
Violent anal sex
Suddenly, the terminator appeared out of nowhere.
Spouting the line "Oh yes!" every 3 seconds. His search for Sarah Connor had begun!
Before we get into the Terminator and why he was seeking out Sarah Connor, we must go back to when he was just a wee robot. You see...
( E-E) Butts. Butts butts butts butts butts butts.
[ Lɯ`] And indeed, when you're just a wee li'l robot, you don't see much more than butts. Beep boop.
" said Robopa, shortly before being
reprogrammed to enjoy looking at butts more than anything. The perpetrator of this nefarious act could be none other than
( LΦ`) Hello kids!
That's right! The pedophile overlord Baron von Kidyydiddler was at it again! His latest scheme to rape supple kid butts could only be stopped by
Dr. Robotnik's
>>510
robot-clone of Sonic! Who would stop at anything to keep little children from being raped. When he faced Baron von Kidyydiddler he said
nothing at all. That was just how he rolled. The baron lost his
taste for fine cheeses
and his huge, grotesque
but gained a long lost power which gave him the ability to
hover on a noisy column of methane and poo fragments
which smells pretty nasty really.
I rode my motorbike out of there like a bat out of hell. I rode for hours, not looking back once. I'd not make a good pillar of salt. The sun rose and set several times, but drowsiness did not deter me. After my stomach could hold out no more, I pulled over at a small family diner.
I decided to seat myself across from a girl. A waitress came with a cup of coffee and offered me a menu, which I refused. "I'd just like a side of eggs and some toast, please." The waitress nodded and headed into the back room.
The girl across from me, stunningly handsome, flashed me a quick, nervous grin before she lost herself in a book. And having no book of my own, I found myself reading her. An honest face with baby blue eyes and convincing bangs of blonde. She couldn't have been more than 19 years old. Her pale skin, almost unhealthily so, was beautiful. It could have been my sleep deprivation talking, but she was the most stunning girl I'd ever laid eyes on.
My food came and I ate it. The girl continued to read, finishing her coffee as I lost myself in my daydreams. "Hey, what's your name?" She looked up. "Espeon," she said, with a thick accent. "Is Russian." I smiled. "Well, my name's Chuck, and it's nice to meet you." I offered her my hand, and she shook weakly. But her hand, while weak, was alive. Espeon. It had a nice ring to it.
"I'm so fresh, you can suck my nuts."
said ( ˃ ˂), shortly before being
Before being shred into pieces by an awesome explosion.
"SHIT FUCKING TIT-BITCHES! NOT THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT PRESSURE COOKER AGAIN!" Rei was visibly upset.
Suddenly, the entire continent of
Freedonia
, whose Eternal President is Richard M. Stallman,
was enslaved by an army of
children raised in schools which run proprietary software on all machines, who never said "please" or "thank you" after
merciful spanking
in the name of justice and all that is pure in a free and open-source society.
"Because," Stallman said, pausing to clear his throat: "Although you may pay taxes, that's really not the kind of free state we meant at all. You're guaranteed freedom, but freedom isn't free. My grandfather, Richard M. Stallman the First lost his life and paid for his freedom in blood, in the first Windows war. And with him bled the entire country. Think about that the next time someone tells you to install Gentoo - and consider accepting. Thank you for your time."
Meanwhile, the Mighty Dongoloid
(Stallman's long-lost brother, for those just joining us)
was planning a fanfare of patent trolling for the sole purpose of infuriating his admittedly pathetic, idealist sibling.
Do you think that's realistic?'' He asked the livestream on CNN.com as it buffered occasionally. Richard answered with a gentle nod, unaware that his own putrid flesh and black blood was among his audience. Where is the incentive? How do you satisfy man's desire to conquer if his primary option is to create? The world is not free, my naive little brother. Man, as an evolutionary imperative, must suffer even as he usurps. A society's force, the sheer temperature of its burning core, exists not by pressure nor volume alone, but a proportionate multiplication thereof. Its value, you see - its... ah, worth, one might say - decreases with volume, unless pressure compensates, and visa versa.''
He then proceeded to submit patents for the first and last fifty lines of every C header within the Linux kernel.
Meanwhile, in Edinburgh, the Cult of Undead Moé had begun a sacred ritual to revive the Great Sky Loli (who died back at >>217,218). Their leader,
St. Shii DCLXVI,
of Church WWW,
wad blessed with a humongous, throbbing
ego, because
it's a prerequisite of being a cult leader.
There was a sudden flash of light and a loud moaning noise - the ritual had been a success! The cult members
slowly began to take off their clothes and prepared the body of Dr. Robotnik. If all of them successfully came inside of his ass then their diabolical plan would come to fruition. Each of the cult members had their way with Robotnik's nether regions save one, but before the final cultist could call forth the warping, chaotic powers by violently raping Robotnik's ass
the narrator ran out of breath. Perhaps next time they should try omitting the endless run-on sentences from the ritual.
Meanwhile, other sinister plans were afoot at the
First Militant Church of Zardoz
, but these plans were entirely irrelevant because
they were dying out due to that "penis is evil" bit of their doctrine.
Back in Edinburgh, the Undead Great Sky Loli was about to commence her reign of terror, starting with
a tea party involving
Marie Antoinette and her sister
Ms. Cho (an illegitimate child, daughter of a ninja).
Many important topics were discussed, such as the appropriate number of frills and ribbons one's dress should have, and
a conclusion was reached:
everyone had to wear special hats to be part of their secret club.
"Psst, would you like to join a secret club?" said a masculine man in a dark cape
before being mercilessly crushed to death by the UGSL. Nobody gets into her tea parties uninvited, not even
your esteemed narrator. You might not have thought about who was narrating this, did you? No one ever thinks about the narrator. I've lived a hard life. It's not as easy as a life you kids today have. You just lock yourselves in your room and jerk off to anime porn. But me? Starting at the age of 12
I've been starving and going into bouts of
really unsubtle Touhou references, because I'm a NEET.
You may know me as Morgan Freeman. And this is my story...
The Spiral Temple began to gain enormous amounts of political power in the 20s due to the influence of Spiral Power on prominent Politicians as well as the New Spirals introducing themselves to the System. Invisible to the average Citizen their violent right angles called and Screamed out to my electric Soul . They were reaching out, calling to me, screaming. People were losing their minds in the twisted World of Spirals. My eyes cried red blood, my body smiled blue Tears for the work was hard and.
But then,
( ί ί) Suddenly, mittens! Thousands of them!
and On each Mitt was a nother and aother Spiral indiciating that the Power had Spiraled out of control They fell from sky like a Cat or Dog..
Truly, the mittenpocalypse possessed a terrible beauty. A young man
of Nordic descent was making his way through
puberty
knew that he was developing strong feelings for a
cardboard cut-out of Keanu Reeves
(LΓM )♡ "Oh, Kjeanu Rjeeves," he thought.
Just one glance into the spiralling mittenstorm was all it took to
( E-E) derail this thread. Up against the wall, motherfuckers!
" is what Beady Eyes would have said, were it not for the fact that he has already been killed off several times. Instead,
He kept his mouth shut and went to his local store to
derail a serious discussion regarding the
second coming of jesus christ as defined by the holy bible
penis
2: the resurrection
. The two gentlemen engaging in this discussion
really wished they were little girls,
that still had penises
so that they could
urinate in more easily. The Greek goddess Aphrodite
wondered passingly what the word "in" was doing there in the previous sentence
as she polished up the apple so carefully
- the very same apple which
she had recently
stuffed up her vagina and kept in for hours
as preparation for a sacred ritual to
Summon Eris and bring chaos to the world. Meanwhile, Dr. Robotnik began to wake up on the cultists' ritual table.
The cultists promptly set fire to
a passing Espeon, who ran off screaming and was never seen again.
Seeing this, Dr Robotnik decided not to
shout gPINGASh
, as he LOVES each and every Espeon quite dearly. Who couldn't?
The next author promptly took over and swore upon his mother's grave that he would salvage this horrible mess of a short novel and turn it into a true masterpiece. Of course, we all can see where that is going.
The new author sighed. He cradled his weary forehead in his hands and poured himself another shot of cheap vodka. He let his stubby, worn fingers fall to the keys of the typewriter and began to write, not even daring to look back at what his poor alcohol addled mind was spewing. Anything to keep his thoughts away from... never mind that.
Chapter 3: Betrayal in Venice
It was raining in
Barcelona. There was a sullen despair afoot. Unlike in Venice, where there was only betrayal and sunlight, Barcelona was pretty wet. A young boy pondered this with idle fascination, wondering whether the betrayal in Venice was particularly troublesome that day. Clear skies and a deceptively bright sun usually heralded such behavior.
He would know. He'd been to Venice.
Wondering whether rain and melancholy were preferable to light and deceit, the boy trudged forward uneasily. At least you could trust a person here, he thought. Venice was different. It was mean. You could buy an orange and get a softball, or spend five years working unpaid as, week after week, you were promised wages that never came. Men might lie dead beneath your feet, knives in their backs. Sometimes you tripped over them.
Here, however, it was just wet. Sad and wet. No one knew why and no one bothered to find out.
A lonely figure sat in a cramped steamy café, appropriately enough named "The
Shitty Cafe."
The 600 GET he had ordered was
well cooked and lavishly prepared. He added a dash of salt from the shaker and it was just the way he liked it. whilist eating his meal
he remembered something his father had once told him:
"Son, when you grow up, would you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and
those with godawful taste in music?' His father had always been prone to non sequitur after the third whisky or so.
He chanced a dreary look beyond the window. It was still raining cats and dogs outside, of course.
Every once in a while, Barcelona
was like that. Blood and animal cries filled the streets and his heart with sorrow. Suddenly, his 600 GET just wasn't so tasty anymore. "Excuse me, waitress," he called, "
as he proceeded to sit in despair at the scene before him. He got so mad that he smacked his plate off of the table and left. He would figure out what caused this travesty if it was the last thing he did. However, he first called...
his one and only friend in the entire world,
( E-E) 'sup
. Mr Eyes picked up the phone after four rings, greeting him with
a comment so vulgar and obscene that Satan, a truck driver, and a sailor looked on in horror at such words.
How Satan came to be employed as a truck driver and a sailor is a story for another time.
After a brief exchange of insults, the two gentlemen agreed to
fart on their respective mothers and
got arrested. In jail they
languished and lamented for weeks until, by a bizarre stroke of luck,
they got released. Turns out you can only be jailed for so long when the worst crime they can pin on you is Conspiracy to Break Wind on a Family Member. Who knew?
( E-E) The Shadow knows.
" said the schizophrenic,
It was about this time the author realized he had completely gone astray and, for the sake of passable literature, probably ought never write and drink in the near future. Halfway to inebriated forgetfulness, however, and anxious to hammer out a somewhat logical plot before blacking out entirely, he trudged on. His efforts were admirable at the least - really quite astounding at the most, given his vodka-induced stupor.
We at the Gutenberg Project are therefore proud to present the work salvaged from the wreckage of that long and tiresome night.
Chapter 4: It's Always Sunny In Venice
Mr Gray was not having a good evening. His best
jockstrap snapped, cheapest condoms
were sold out, and his Thai masseuse
inserted
her cock into his rectum without even the common courtesy to give him a reacharound. He wasn't too sure whether the female pronoun still applied in this case, either. And to top it all off,
Venice was still a rather shitty place to live.
Super Mario
, in short, wasn't feeling super at all today.
Yet, the neko-android still decided to
try to sell enough magazine subscriptions to win a pizza party. This attempt was met with
ubiquitous disinterest.
The depressed Venetians were all
blind
drunk, alone in their own apartments, wishing they
had felt instead of thought, and become tanasinn.
But it was not to be. Their combined powers of loneliness, however, turned out to be the source of power for
Italian Power Metal bands, who used that power to power their power-hungry amplifiers in order to show their audiences (with their strange insistence on attending concerts in powers of two) the power of RAWK. Powerfully.
It was totally rad, but
Islam has infused, absorbed, supplanted and dialoged with
a pig's anus
to such a degree that it is no longer of any relevance to this story.
The insignificant machinations of the poor wretched Venetians were about to be overshadowed entirely by
Dr. Robotnik's
elbow.
In fact, it was around this time that Dr. Robotnik's elbow, Eddie, had gained awareness of itself and begun its journey of criticizing others. He had buried himself deep into the sunset sandbox of his childhood days, the cold wet sand tickling his nerve endings, when he felt a soft, fleshy sensation that was unmistakably the warm cheek of Venice.
Mr. Gray
didn't even begin to
What did /a/ think of True Tears? shughive
care about questions like "
He was too busy plotting how to become an Earl and have a flavor of tea named after him.
Unfortunately for Mr Gray,
the predicament of such magnitude he found himself accost,
with thoughts that could only be described ( as per the words of James Goldstein III, writer for the Dallas Autismal Times) as "the most sadistic, violent, and erotic thoughts since..."
[the rest of the comment was omitted by order of
In any case, the trap was set. And who better to trip it than the man himself - the one whom all those years before had
lost himself in fantasy and lost sight of his true self.
Yes, years ago, this man had woven together an elaborate narrative in which he himself had posed as various characters, including a Panda, Beady Eyes, Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, George Bush CXXIX, Ran-tan-tan, the sexy nurse from pokemon, Franz Kafka, Lord "Cat Fanny" Catfannerkins, Robopa, Deequn, Clonepa, Grandpa, Arf, the great sky loli, Tristan, Claire, Reimu, Marisa, Gerald Jay Sussman, Roger Ebert, Dr. Robotnik, Snorlax, Sonic the Hedgehog, Knuckles the Echidna, Phil Collins, Takakazu Abe, Masaki Michishita, Porky Pig, Captain Gay Sparkle, Doctor Fujiwara, Mr. DQN Short Novel, DQN-kun, Woll Smoth, Wool Smooth, Sean Connery, Charles, Daddy Cool, Smug Fathead, PenPen, IsIs, Mike, the terminator, Richard M. Stallman, St. Shii DCLXVI, Marie Antoinette, Ms. Cho, a young man of Nordic descent, Aphrodite, Super Mario, the neko-android, Eddie the elbow, and of course, Mr. Gray himself.
But now Mr. Gray was about finally realize the madness in which he had been living. In his final dying moments after stumbling upon his own trap, all would become clear: he and these characters had been one and the same all along.
But just as Mr. Gray was about to stumble into his own trap,
his evil twin brother
wished him a happy St. Patrick's Day. Momentarily distracted, Mr. Gray
took a run for it and
somehow ended up in Timbuktu. The
Malian Empire had waned, but the Timbuktu-to-Bamako rail line was
the same it had always been. That is to say; shitty and in terrible condition.
It wasn't the only thing that was shitty and in terrible condition, as
Mr Gray's mental health was in a similar state. Without a
parasol to keep him from the rain, the drops smacking his bald head through the roofless train brought back terrible memories of
his young life on the pigeon farm, where
his parents raised him as a pigeon, keeping him in a tiny cage and feeding him breadcrumbs. Even today, he occasionally
ate stale bread from a stainless steel bowl, while feeling rather self-conscious. Alas, said bowl\a family heirloom\was nowhere to be found among his luggage.
Suddenly, accompanied by wailing and gnashing of teeth, the train screeched to a halt
as the driver had nodded off at the controls and slumped forward at an unfortunate angle.
The passengers slowly looked up from the personal worlds into which they had each retreated and wearily eyed each other warily. Nobody moved, all waiting for somebody else to do their thinking for them. Finally a rugged man on his way to the Bamako salt mines stood up and said,
"I'm tired of these motherfucking people on this motherfucking train!" He then proceeded to
go back to doing his sudoku, looking somewhat self-concious. His outcry prompted
Mr. Gray to open the emergency window
, which caused a rogue stream of wind to whisk his sunglasses straight into the sky.
"Penis!" he swore.
His sunglasses flew away unheeding. They were about to begin a voyage of discovery, in which
the not-so-glorious god of
lolis in the sky would battle
with her own feelings of inadequacy. You see, even though she successfully annexed Poland,
she still secretly wished to have breasts. Thus, upon discovering Mr. Gray's sunglasses,
she took out her frustration on them by
Mr Gray was not aware of these events transpiring; he was
a penis.
connoisseur, well known for
the lengthy reviews of not-so-lengthy phalluses he regularly publishes on his tumblr.
Eventually, everyone's
thoughts and train carriages simultaneously derailed and everything floated off into space, causing
Mr Gray to wonder what had happened to gravity.
He poked his head out the window to investigate, and saw that the cause of this madness was
the great sky loli, whose bold fashion statement of twisted sunglassery had thrown the universe into chaos.
"Oh no!" lamented
the Bamakonian salt miner, "I've been doing this sudoku upside-down!"
Naturally, the
rest of Mr. Gray's night proceeded in rather the same manner as always.
That is to say, he began by pouring himself a glass of
piss
-poor quality Latvian wine and
was emanating strongly from between Dr. Robotnik's buttocks, along with a peculiar sound.
These were - of course - obvious signs of an upcoming momentous GET. However unlikely it may seem,
( E-E) 700GE-- well, poo.
said Beady Eyes, narrowly missing the GET and leaving it open for none other than the mysterious masked assassin Arf, who said,
before returning to his master: none other than
a subordinate of Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, who had been subversively gathering GETs in preparation for a nefarious plot involving
the Big Book Of DQN Mad-Libs, half a ton of rancid yak butter, and a very depraved
Quake player.
I cannot make sense of this story anymore.
- interrupted Grandpa, "You, kids, got youself quite a vivid fantasy. When I was a young lad like you... and trust me I was..."
Without a word, the author stopped typing. He took the last two chapters, crumpled them up and threw them in the bin. Casually, with a practised motion, he then took out a lighter, poured a healthy dose of lighter fluid over it and set them on fire.
Chapter 3 Version II:
Nobody Cares About Venice
After the invasion of the Penis People of the planet Uranus,
was defeated by the One-Eyed, One-Horned Flying Purple People Eaters,
the last remaining
big fat butt.
"frrrrrrrrrp."
Shrouded in silent twilight, the Danube river took on an ethereal gleam, its silver surface reflecting the
her lost cat. The feline in question had died long ago,
in a tragic teleporter accident that Prof. Kleiner still refuses to admit happened, but the great loli in the sky was OK with the idea of recovering her pet in a gaseous state, just as long as she got it back at all.
Little did she know that light years away, her cat had just been farted out the last remaining big fat butt. This cat, whose name was
Alistair Xavier Chang-Mortensen III
, had been an integral part of the
East Prague Underground Democratic Movement
; a group aiming to eradicate
democracy, which everyone thought was kind of odd except for
Prof. Kleiner, who was rather sober about the dichotomous shift.
Without the guidance of Alistair Xavier Chang-Mortensen III, the EPUDM
stooped as low as accepting the application of one big fat butt, despite the clearly visible Snidely Whiplash moustache whenever you squinted at its shadow from just the right angle. This could not possibly end well, and few were surprised when, exactly seventeen days and one hour later,
devilish acts of sodomy transpired in the catacombs.
After all, the EPUDM was well-known for its fondness of devilish acts of sodomy.
What did surprise everybody was that during the sodomistic confusion, the moustached big fat butt had managed to infiltrate the depths of EPUDM headquarters.
You see, the teleportation incident had been no accident. The BFB had carefully engineered Alistair's transfer into his body, in order to orchestrate this very infiltration. The accidental flatulence of said leader had not been part of the plan, but the BFB wasn't too worried - he had already stolen Alistair's DNA and passwords, which was enough to make it through EPUDM security. He hardly imagined that a gaseous cat floating through space would be able to stop him now.
Now at the center of EPUDM and armed with full administrative power over their systems, the BFB rubbed his cheeks together with joy and prepared to finally enact his dastardly plan:
swapping all their coffee with decaf, leaving their milk unrefridgerated, and, when nobody was expecting it, detonating the on-site emergency nuclear warhead.
His plan
was surely flawless. Unfortunately for BFB, the great sky loli
loved drinking lukewarm milk (if you know what I mean), and in fact had stored several small milk containers hidden underneath the detonation button. Thus, when it was pressed, the only thing to detonate was the console containing the button, with a pungent sour smell that would surely end up getting blamed on BFB.
Without warning, a squadron of armed soldiers wearing the Second Prussian Alliance Natural Killers insignia burst through the doors. In a rugged manly voice, the squadron leader shouted "You
VIOLATED THE LAW! STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL SCUM!"
But then BFB ran into a dark alley and removed his Gray Fox mask, and everyone was cool again.
Chapter 4: A gaseous cat in the knee
Three nights ago, before the whole incident with the Great Sky Loli (whom everyone, might it be said, believed to have exited the story forever), a man by the name of Polymer Pete had completed his greatest invention. It was
rather unimpressive, to be honest. It didn't even
permanently eliminate world hunger, or make peace between warring nations. Still, as Polymer Pete's inventions went, it was the best he was likely to come up with in a long time. Maybe this one would make his mother acknowledge his existence once more, and Polymer Pete had never desired any better outcome.
His invention had been perfected - however,
the most unfortunate event would transpire precisely three days later, shortly after Polymer Pete's invention was unveiled. You see, he was never much of an engineer to begin with. But the EPUDM needed him, for he was in fact the only capable engineer supportive of their cause. Thus when they contracted him to invent the console which would control the launch of their nuclear warhead, they had no idea how faulty it would turn out to be.
Hence, when the BFB pushed the button, an
entire squadron of Imperial Guardsmen swarmed out of the portal that had appeared instead of the expected launched nuke.
They looked around and saw all of this heresy and were disgusted. "Hail the Emprah!", they shouted, and immediately began to
glance at each other nervously, unsure of exactly what to do. You see, this particular squadron
had a habit of going into battle completely unarmed. As a consequence, they went through new recruits like a chainsword through warm butter, but that's no reason to break with a perfectly fine regimental tradition.
"Does the 750th post even count as a GET these days?" inquired
Tharsh, who had recently been born of an interesting captcha but already posessed the mental and physical traits of a fully-grown adult. He then proceeded to
butter his toast with a chainsword.
"WHARRRGARBL! Toast for breakfast!" screamed Tharsh. Tharsh was cranky because he had toast crumbs inside his power armor.
The GSL effortlessly lifted Tharsh from the room and told him
that breakfast was long since over, and it was better to think about tea-time instead.
Upon alighting, Tharsh did his very best to restrain his barbarian toastly urges and engage in the tea party in a civilised manner, as was expected of him. Nonetheless, he couldn't
seem to find the sugar bowl. This misfortunate absence of a dish convenient for hiding small things like sugar or microphones caused Tharsh to
make impromptu use of his nostrils for the job, which aside from looking very silly was also terribly inefficient.
Marie Antoinette and her sister, who were also attending the tea party, were not amused. They
found that they were much more efficient at disposing bodies than giving birth to them. One of them gave birth to a body of water and created a planet similar to earth. The other stopped in her tracks and
was run over by a freight train.
Regrettably, a certain large obtuse backside was
not also killed in the accident... or was it an accident? In fact,
nobody had their eyes open during the concert, it was the coincidence of the century: everybody blinked at the same time. Newspapers
were outdated by several centuries - therefore no longer existed - and so instead,
people held large rectangular sheets of low-quality paper covered entirely in adverts. This meant that the
new planet's creation was utterly missed by the entire population of the solar system, who were too busy looking for a good bargain on shoes.
Tharsh gazed at his surroundings, as though seeing them for the first time, and saw his world for what it truly was:
an incredibly complex roguelike game made of political intrigues rather than monster slaying.
It was anal leakage in a downright horrid way.
Speaking of anal leakage, the gaseous cat was busy
being completely inconsequential, although he was sure he fit in this whole fiasco some way or another.
"What a gas!" he said as he
drifted through the window of an adult entertainment store.
Meanwhile, in the Oort cloud,
a sinister swarm of nanobots was approaching the solar system,
intent on restructuring the Earth into the shape of
a giant rodent - which their extraterrestrial employers would assuredly find very humorous.
As it approached Earth, the massive swarm resembled a
sinister swarm of nanobots.
"Stop!" said
Beady Eyes. "I'm really happy for you, I'm-a let you finish, but we have to acknowledge I'm the greatest thread hijacker of all time."
But nobody would hear him, and he then asphyxiated due to an inability to breathe interstellar plasma.
"Arf," said
the queen of
Catland. The entire population was shocked to hear such canine response from their feline ruler.
"...is what I would say if I were a wretched dog, like our sworn enemy!" she continued, flustered and desperate to recover the situation, lest her true canine identity be discovered. Fortunately, the residents of Catland were stupid enough to buy it. Actually, most of them had already completely forgotten about the whole affair and were more occupied by basking in a sunbeam.
"Anyway, I have an important announcement to make," said the queen. "It's about King Alistair Xavier Chang-Mortensen III...
--Nyaaagh!" With that undignified screech, the queen was dead. She had been assassinated by none other than
Niccolo Machiavelli, brought back to life by
the Edinburgh Cult of Undead Moé. Naturally, the citizens of Catland
were completely indifferent to the whole affair, being notoriously difficult to lead at the best of times. Most of them had never even realized there had ever been a queen of Catland, and wouldn't have cared even if they had known.
Yet this was par for the golf course of feline monarchy, perhaps even a birdie or an eagle, but then nobody was keeping score, especially not the caddy, for Catland royalty specialized in being completely inconsequential. Thus, Niccolo Machiavelli
had to concede that his political theories only really work on humans.
Disappointed and sexy, Niccolo slunk off into space to forget his problems. But his problems were just beginning.
That very second, the nanobots landed and promptly deployed their specialised
protein regurgitating apparati. Niccolo has no choice but to
throw raw bacon at them in the hopes of delaying them long enough for him to make his getaway. He silently thanked fate that he had thought to fill his pockets with raw bacon that morning in case of
breakfast. Breakfast without bacon would be uncivilized, after all.
Nanobots momentarily pacified, he ran to the only place he could think of:
Venice.
Part 4: Clandestine Cat Culture and the Carnivorous Calico Cormorant
In which Mr. Gray discovers that he made more tea than he bargained for; Barcelona encounters an unnatural wind; nanobots introduce the novel concept of marriage; a fleshy traitor witnesses an underground bowel movement; a former chairman organizes an assassin's conference; a celestial flat-chested female demonstrates the folly of flirting with fashion; felines gather swiftly in a secret salt mine; a panda and a formerly fictional nurse elope to Tijuana; internet characters interrupt the narrative with unrelated concepts; other things probably happen too but who the hell knows what is even going on anymore
"My, my. This will not do."
An old maxim once said, or at least to the best of Mr. Gray's memory went something alone the lines of, "Too much tea turns the gentlest men bitter." A profusion of whipping steam rose from his mug. Between ponderous sips he glanced to the pot, now to the tea before him, wondering whether such a statement could possibly hold true. After all, one may simply invite a guest or two to partake in the excess.
"But what, then, if it has cooled upon arrival?"
No - that would be terrible. He sipped with caution. Though the tea had come in large amounts, he steadfastly refused its unceremonious declination. Good tea is the impetus of an excellent day. Perhaps he would leave it to sit, pouring yet another serving should his thirst be so inclined.
"Indeed, I am fond of the stuff. Yet would that I took too much, and too soon, might I eventually be repulsed by its mere aroma?"
Not good. Not good at all.
Interrupting his thoughts,
more thoughts thoughtlessly thought their way into Mr. Gray's thought thoroughfare. Those thoughts were in turn interrupted by a third set of thoughts remotely related to the first thoughts. But these third thoughts were thoughtlessly interwoven with yet a fourth thought process. The fourth thoughts were thoroughly thoughtful, though Mr. Gray thought that that thought ought to have been thought through on Thursday.
Then a fifth thought interrupted all the rest: the tea was already growing lukewarm. A shiver shot through Mr. Gray's spine. This tea was going to
become cold, and that wouldn't do at all. He picked up the teapot and began gulping down the cooling tea directly from the spout.
The tea dripped down his throat like an overturned bucket of paint pouring down the side of a building. The spout smelled metallic. Mr. Gray
, in his hysteria, had completely neglected to claim his 800 GET.
Meanwhile, just outside Barcelona, a deadly
pack of desiccant
lay motionless by the side of the dusty road, just as it had done for the past eighteen years. Its time would assuredly come.
A devastating storm of flatulence was building up inside
unfortunately it could not escape unless
someone opened a window. "Whew, I'll open a window," said Mr. Gray. "It smells like farts in here!"
Predictably enough, the second the window opened,
the universe proceeded an infinitesimal amount towards maximum entropy.
The stench swept over the streets of
Manhattan New York
Whose inhabitants sniffed the air cautiously and said, "Hmm, the wind must be blowing from New Jersey today."
A young man, whom you will recall as the young boy of some preceding chapter or other, remarked that this particular ill-scented tumult was rather akin to the chaos of Barcelona - a city he knew well. But for the difference of the disaster - farts rather than storms - it was all too similar. Suddenly reminiscing upon his faraway home, he wondered (as he oft did) whether or not it was very windy there today.
As it happens, it was. Unnaturally so.
Elsewhere, the nanobot swarm had just descended upon
Midgar and
neatly arranged itself into several distinct humanoid forms, all donning garb which was characteristic of the region. One was a Rune Knight, another an Assassin Cross. Many more couldn't figure out the proper algorithm for complex costumes, and so defaulted to Novices for the time being.
As they walked through the
unending tutorial levels with benign grimaces spread across their face façades,
enticing them to dip their wicks in the great gaynus,
they realized that mere companionship was not enough to satisfy their need for each other.
For some pieces of eight, the deal was done,
they had freaky sex, and their depravity begun.
In no time, they were performing rituals to Slaanesh fit to sicken any upstanding individual.
A local priest
was quite alarmed and
hired the sexiest women he knew to seduce them:
"But they are not human" said she, and the deal was off.
Having quite forgotten their original intent, the humaniform nanobot swarm
spent their days trolling Internet forums in the brief periods between orgies. Several years passed in this manner, until
an extreme fundamentalist Christian hacker altered their programming to make them
hate fags, and hold pickets announcing it at inappropriate times and places.
One such inappropriate place was in the EPUDM headquarters, where the big fat butt was busy
taking a nasty shit, as fat butts are wont to do.
But this was no regular shit. This was a revolution.
No British cigarette hater would be safe.
Speaking of British cigarette haters, the former Honorable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII - who, miraculously, had not yet been killed off - was
miraculously killed off in a mysterious explosion somewhere off the coast of Bolivia.
The explosion had been caused by a tragic
Plane Crash, Caused by a
shocking overuse of capital letters. Shortly before his tragic and untimely demise, the former chairman convened with
Nyarlathotep
, in order to figure out the exact meaning of the word "Nyarlathotep".
Sadly, the knowledge drove him mad just in time to be mercifully exploded.
Nyarlathotep, which was a group of furry feline assassin experts, proceeded to play with string and stretch in sunbeams.
One member of Nyarlathotep uttered a discontented "Ια`I" at her sunbeam being blocked by the GSL floating past the window. The loli in question was wearing
on Nyarlathotep's nerves lately, because of her
Incessant singing of
Tsurupettan
and her donning of
a sukumizu, which just looked annoying and didn't reveal much. Some time later the EPUDM caught sight of the GSM and proceeded to
utilise the Galvanised Sheet Metal for constructing
whirling serrated blades of death
which proceeded to slice up the group of fundamentalist nanobot protestors which had drifted into its path, along with a metric shit-ton of feces being blasted out of the BFB, resulting in a hectic cloud of poo and robots being flung in every direction.
The shit had hit the fan.
Sensing danger, Nyarlathotep took their leave and went to join their fellow feline companions in
Barcelona.
Here, they rendezvoused with innumerable other cats of all shapes and sizes, before continuing their pilgrimage to the Cardona Salt Mountain, roughly 90km away. The journey
In the sky, a rusty gust busted through Barcelona's musty crust. Those that once would blush now fussed and bussed about with untrustworthy lust. The brush just crushed to mush in a hush. Thus gushed the August dust.
"Meow," announced
was interrupted by strange winds were afoot in the Barcelona atmosphere.
a passing dog. This was, of course,
a spy for the Holy Canine Empire, under the benevolent guidance of Kaiser Bowser, peace be upon him.
(no, not the turtle. He's a bulldog. Get your facts straight.)
The Nyarlathotep prudently feigned ignorance. Safely out of earshot, they began to discuss whether it should be safest to continue upon their presupposed path or make for another province, by which they might gauge the extent of Kaiser Bowser's reach. They were at the moment, however, quite
drenched with poo and nanobots, so they decided to first clean themselves with
cat pee
. However, they didn't realize that cat pee was the secret catalyst to unlocking the nanobots' true, fearsome form:
microscopic critters easily flushed away by the tiniest amount of cat pee. Later, in the sewers,
the nanobots realized they could now abandon their embarrassing job as Professional Homosexual Haters. They gathered up what little dignity they had left, and decided to take up the noble task of granting marriage licenses to couples passing through the sewers, regardless of their gender, sexual orientation, race, species, intelligence level, blood type, gamer score, ice cream flavor preference, eye color, age, number of limbs, criminal history, gait, hat collection or tenuity of existence.
Their first two customers were
DQN-kun and his beloved waifu. They had come to be in the sewers after an unfortunate incident involving
a video game quest that, inexplicably, required them to be there.
"Excuse me, may we pass through here?" asked DQN-kun. The nearest nanobot replied "
No, but you may now kiss the buraido." And indeed, DQN-kun's waifu was now wearing a ringu on her fingeru.
Suddenly, Dr Fujiwara rolled in, armed with a shocking revelation: "I have reason to believe," he proclaimed, "that DQN-kun is in fact a panda!"
Amidst a flurry of whispers, DQN-kun's waifu (who, as it happens, was a nurse) grasped DQN-kun's paw and the two of them ran off into the sunset in the general direction of Tijuana.
Chapter 4½: The Secret Lives of Ducks
An odd thing about ducks is their tendency to sway and blush in response to perfectly average questions. One is forced to step back and re-examine one's own assessment of "perfectly average." This is no matter of chance. Though the public lives of ducks are peacefully spent with pleasant floats and quacks, few realize the complex social world ducks secretly inhabit.
"Quack," said
Daffy, moments before handing the dynamite to Bugs.
"Thanks Doc," said Bugs, calmly accepting the dynamite with a smug smile. Daffy ran some distance away, shut his eye and plugged his ears, expecting an explosion. But moments later, the sizzling dynamite fuse sizzled out. Daffy opened his eyes, saw that the fuse had stopped burning, and stormed angrily back over to Bugs.
"Give me that!" he demanded, snatching the dynamite out of Bugs' hands. The dynamite promptly exploded, turning Daffy into a burnt husk with a bill. The skinny husk then comically fell to the ground in a pile of ash, with the disembodied duck bill on top, which said,
"You're despicable."
Bugs crunched on his carrot. A single tear fell from his eye. He hadn't asked for this life. He hadn't asked to fall in love. And yet he was doomed to a life of cool antagonism, endless casting heart-wrenching injuries upon a duck to whom he could never show his true feelings.
Meanwhile, in a shady Parisian alleyway, a
particularly gentlemanly pig was busy shelling out the cash for his next fix.
"G-g-give it here, f-folks," he said, with no small hint of agitation. He had to have it now, or else.
Two pairs of eyes darted to one another in the gloom of the damp, dark space. This swine with a bow-tie was a faithful buyer, but he didn't always carry exact change. Sometimes they gave him the stuff anyway. Sometimes they let him beg for it, watched as the pathetic animal got on his thin knees and squealed for all he was worth.
As Porky counted out what he thought were forty big ones, the two shadowy figures shifted impatiently. This was getting old. "Why don't we just nick 'im, cut 'is throat like a good litt'l piggeh?" they'd once joked. "'e ain't 'elpin' nobody, 'e ain't mean nothin' to the world."
but just then, DQN-kun and his newly-wedded waifu
arrived home and found that both their hug pillows torn to shreds
was not the sight which was awaiting them. Instead, their living room was occupied by
Jack Noir
"Son of a b-b uh son of a b-b-b son of a b-b-gun!" said Porky in the neighboring alley. He was one short of forty big ones.
Fortunately, the goods only cost thirty-nine big ones.
Shanghai's finest
ass-ass inns
were crowded with
big fat butts.
You see, in the commotion, the world's last big fat butt had managed to clone himself without being noticed.
The ensuing tidal wave of genetically identical posteriors
brought about the end of the world. Again.
Two centuries later,
DQN-kun rose from the ashes, clutching the remains of his hope and his hug pillow.
He arose to the sight of a bleak and horrible world, a world without
mittens, and even without pizza delivery services.
And yet, in his heart, he knew that this story would never again
involve Dr. Robotnik, for alas, all his tomorrows were spent.
However, a new scientist would discover Dr. Robotnik's abandoned lab, and decided to continue what was started. This new scientist was named
William Spade
, and he seemed to have an uncanny knack for stumbling upon empty laboratories. Why, he could tell you all about the days he spent as a kid opening locked doors and busting into closed stalls.
Man, were those two men with their pants down that he broke in on once ever angry.
But none of that mattered now, because he had killed them. Just as he had killed
any attempt at narrative continuity in this story. So now, William teamed up with Dr. Robotnik to build the greatest PINGAS the world had ever seen.
They have mined gold and diamonds from the depths of Mother Earth and built the mightiest, the most beautiful diamond-encrusted gold cock in the Milky Way Galaxy.
The 900GET was a solemn affair. William held it in his hands, carefully testing its weight. From over his shoulder, the undead Dr Robotnik said "
TOUCH MY PINGAS." And William said, "But my dear sir, I already am."
DQN-kun was shocked and disgusted by this unholy display of hedonism and pingas touchery. He swore in his waifu's name to
obliterate all scoundrels in the known universe and
send a very clear warning to those from without.
But the tale was quickly coming to an end. Resolute that he should tie up all loose ends, reconnoitring the roster of rogue characters and turning their disparate vignettes into a plausible whole, DQN-kun set off on a journey that would take him straight across all of space and even some select portions of time.
It was, by this point, the year 50,000, and man had already done a bang-up job of spreading himself across the solar system. Furthermore,
every single human being in the entire universe was dead. Yes, all of them. Dr Robotnik was a reanimated corpse, William was never actually a character to begin with and was just a figment of the reader's imagination, DQN-kun was God and DQN-kun's waifu was an ethereal entity from a parallel universe.
48,007 years previously,
the author gave up
watching lolicon anime, but it was already too late.
around the fifth bottle of vodka.
Scanning scattered notes whose fevered scrawlings were all illegible, a kernel of determination grew within his now sober soul. There had to be a pattern here. Some bastion of coherence, even a single plot device with which he could begin to patch up this meandering mess of a nearly finished novel. But where? he asked himself.
That was the question.
He set to work pulling together the cast of characters he'd unwittingly let fall from his formerly frantic mind. A Panda, Beady Eyes, Honorable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, George Bush CXXIX, Ran-tan-tan, Franz Kafka. As he read and re-read just the first several lines, a ray of glistening comprehension shone through his entire being. A few, however, jumped at him from the page like tumultuous fires from the greatest depths of hell.
A 2 is gotten
by A Panda
... promptly derailed by Beady Eyes
Hate - the bite that sets the universe in motion.
He considered the Panda and Beady Eyes as two perpetually warring forces of nature. Reincarnated many times over, their bitter dispute would form the cosmic backdrop of the thing. Yes, it was beginning to come along quite nicely. They had existed since time immemorial, springing into disastrous disruption of mankind's affairs at the most pivotal epoch in his technological evolution - the dawning of the Interstellar Era.
New Manchuria was their first Earthly arena. Accelerating the rate of human development, Beady Eyes had birthed himself as the assassin George Bush CXXIX. He succeeded in a brief massacre, murdering the nearest medical professionals, lest they should discover his unnatural feat. Enter A Panda, whom as Ran-tan-tan had quelled the air of morbid with his characteristically humorous antics.
From there,
the shit hit the fan.
Espeon become insane and insisted on always using his tripcode, wriggling it around like a shiny golden diamond-encrusted dick which it wasn't.
In the end, people had their memories of sheltered childhood destroyed and obliterated. For this Espeon was sent to North Corea on a "spy mission" and disappeared. This political move raised many questions for Hnnorable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII, to all of which he replied,
"I have no comment at this time."
In the midst of everything, Mr. Gray surfaced now and then in an attempt to spin some pseudoliterary value into the otherwise disjointed fanfictionesque narrative.
Unbelievably, Tharsh
soon took center stage as the novel's protagonist. DQN-kun had not expected this outcome, but the best ideas are the ones that come naturally. To commemorate the occasion, Tharsh said,
"Arf."
Tharsh only performed his world famous sea lion impression on special occasions. The last time he had done so was
in his past incarnation as a Panda, to commemorate his 2GET. But before Tharsh could finish, his sea lion impression was rudely interrupted by
a time traveling golden PINGAS.
This was, of course, actually Beady Eyes. Somehow.
Just as the author was considering making a start on the final chapter,
a sheep named "meemee" appeared and said "meemee."
The author instantly recognized it as a spy for the dreaded herd of memesheep. No good could come of this.
It was time to call in the wolf.
The wolf was called in and she mercilessly slaughtered the obnoxious ovine. On any other day,
this service would be free of charge. Today, however,
it's also free of charge.
Blood dripping from her muzzle, the wolf tenderly reminisced about her childhood
, which was filled with fancy doilies and overgrown swing sets.
You see, she was an incarnation of the Great Sky Loli.
Thus the metaphorical cogs and gears kept turning despite the harsh light cast upon this world's clandestine machinations. All entities knew their roles, strutting and fretting their hour upon the stage, then to be heard of no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing - and this tale was coming to an end.
Chapter Twelve:
Butchered Twilight Fragments
Featuring the Magical Magistrate and his Petulant Petition
In which the townsfolk celebrate over the butchered fragments of Edward Cullen's body.
(Haha, only kidding! It's the last chapter so it's full of unnecessary amounts of explosions, killing major characters off and nonsensical revelations.)
The Piazza San Marco took on an unearthly pallor in the light of the setting sun. The Magical Magistrate, better known as
King Alistair Xavier Chang-Mortensen III, was napping lightly.
It was his birthday a few days ago, and had celebrated with his chums on a 40 hour alcohol-and-stimulant binge. He was still recovering.
Without warning, the fragile tranquility of this scene was shattered by the return of
Tharsh and the Great Sky Loli, who had formed an alliance. They then took
a nasty shit.
"Meow,"
said the shit, which had gained sentience due to the
radioactive nuclear explosive hyper dark anti-fusion bomb
which had formerly been in the possession of one Mr. Gray.
"Our shit is meowing!" the GSL and Tharsh exclaimed in chorus.
"It must be these radioactive nuclear explosive hyper dark anti-fusion bomb sunglasses," realized the GSL, slowly removing off the aforementioned eye-wear which was upside-down and glowing with radioactivity. This act caused the universe to
explode.
The author was killed in said explosion and
several other parallel universes were also destroyed.
In one particular parallel universe, however,
Jack Noir
didn't exist. It was a beautiful day in New Yugoslavia and the Great Sky Shota was playing serendipitously on the shore. Mr Brown sat down on the grass and drank a leisurely cup of coffee. His thoughts were centred on
the Manchurian pepper mines, in which a group of canine assassins were gathering in order to
seize the Mighty Dong of
the Dong Empire. A notoriously
veiny
Popeye cosplayer
was searching desperately through the supermarket trying to find spinach in a can.
In this particular parallel universe, spinach was fatally poisonous. The cosplayer intended to commit suicide that night. However,
funnily enough, the supermarket did not sell lethal poisons. With a sigh of resignation,
he grumbled, "Well, blow me down!" which a passerby took to mean
as Popeye cosplayer needed a blow to his skull's coronal suture to send him plummeting through the earth like a jackhammer. As the passerby hopped into the air, can of spinach in hand, suddenly
a Bluto cosplayer appeared and
hijacked the thread, because he was, in fact, Beady Eyes in disguise.
"I am your mother!"
quoth the cross-dressing Freud clone that barged through the door, crushing Beady Eyes behind it in the process.
Suddenly, a huge explosion
followed by an explosion that was even bigger and better.
was a signal to all that this was now a Michael Bay film.
Suddenly, Michael Bay exploded.
Surveying the scene from afar, an elderly
Robotpa
also exploded.
"LUDICROUS GIBS" announced the surveyance monitor.
The monitor then proceeded to explode. It appears the universe is beginning to collapse in on itself. "There is only a matter of time to escape this thread! I'd say 32 posts to be exact, I've seen a lot of threads in my time" announced none other than
Mr Brown's daughter, a precocious young girl called
Chorsh. To prepare for the happy doom that hung over their icy inevitable heads, she proceeded to chow down on french bread spread with nutella, getting crumbs all over skimpy summer wear.
"Oh no!" she lamented, "I've got nutella all over myself! There's even some under my bra... If only somebody would come and lick it off..."
At that moment, a very large, very hairy gnu with a pedo-smile and a heap of shittily-written open source utilities appeared and said, "Did someone say GNU?"
Predictably enough,
everything exploded. Again.
Including the gnu's rancid penis, which exploded into Chorsh's face.
But that didn't really matter because that very second the entire universe imploded.
Meanwhile, in another alternate universe,
everyone's underwear
exploded.
"Muhahahahaha!" cackled Beady Eyes. "My plan was a success!"
He hadn't yet noticed that he had neglected to remove his own underwear, which had also exploded.
"Oh fiddlesti-" he began to say, then he exploded as well. A panda
remarkably did not explode. He was too zen for that shit.
Friedrich Nietzsche's ghost
, however, was not. He exploded too.
Fortunately, ghosts
are gaseous, therefore structural damage from their explosion is minimal. However, they still burn out a lot of
ectoplasm. A nearby outcrop of bismuth crystals caused
a worldwide
sterilization of males due to its interaction with Nietzschean ectoplasm.
"Oh shit!" said God, "There's only ten posts left and all we've got is exploding ghosts and bismuth crystals! How are we going to
resolve all the plot holes, develop all the characters, or coalesce the narrative into any sort of coheren-"
God exploded.
All this exploding was accelerating the expansion of the universe to dangerous speeds, bringing the heat death of the universe a few aeons closer.
The only one that seemed to be still alive amidst the universal collapse was
Squeeks. It was awful because all the death around him
didn't bother him at all.
«WE SHALL MAKE ANOTHER THREAD!» shouted he, blinded by his madness, «NEXT THREAD WILL PUT EVERYTHING IN PLACE! EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY!!»
«Forgive me, mother,
but I don't know what I was talking about with all that thread stuff. Everyone here has perished, and while I'm not particularly bothered by all the death, the corpses are extremely disorganized. Even worse, there is no one left to sort them into neat arrangements based on their fluffiness levels.»
Little did he know, a parallel, five-dimensional universe managed to defy all physical laws, allowing it to prosper forever without any of that scary scientific stuff.
In this very locale, the author and the GSL were having tea, when
null pointer exception occurred.
For My Beloved Loli, her Panda, and all those who perished in the making of this novel
THE FIRST PART OF A STUNNING TRILOGY
YOU WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN
"What just happened" - New York Times
"A MILLION STARS" - Unnamed seven year old
x 1,000,000
"Excuse me may I post on the back cover here" - DQN-kun
♥♥♥♥♥
