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