, 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 "にゃ～！" 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 "