Previously: http://4-ch.net/dqn/kareha.pl/1335873482/
Prologue: Mr Gray and his Exploding
Unfortunately the elephant was not angry enough to move and the execution was taking forever.
Meanwhile, General Cosgone's butt was bleeding profusely and required
Hawaii
Harlots to kiss it better.
Alas, the aforementioned harlots were busy fondling
the only butt professor on the island.
The butt professor turned out to be Dr. Robotnik and his big fat butt, who had given himself a fake degree in butt-ology.
"You may refer to me from now on as Dr. Robuttnik." He announced, thoroughly pleased with his sophisticated upper-crust sense of humor.
After an astonished "Rather!", the harlots retrieved their monocles and laughed delicately at the wicked jape. Then they all put on their top hats and
performed a dance number.
Too bad they DIED.
General Cosgone, denied the attention of the vital Hawaii Harlots, soon died too. There is only so much blood you can lose from a dog-bitten butt before that happens, after all.
Ethel the modified hog, aka Gratscone,
decided to call up an old friend in hopes of finding some way to solve the harlot and butt problem plaguing the world.
The phone rang for a few seconds before Rex Rockstar picked up.
Gratscone spoke a few moments with him before wrinkling his brow in confusion. "I am sorry," he said, "I believe I have a wrong number."
Sinister nightblooms
lay dead and curled and dried all over the altar, causing
a heinous scent to
blackening mushrooms.
The stench began to summon
carrion swallows.
Penis
.
The swallows were eating all the dead Hawaiian Harlots' corpses.
"That takes care of that problem" said Goatscone.
Gritscone exploded.
Meanwhile, Groutscone was busy grouting tiles in the Mediterranean.
Grootscone wandered the barbarian wilderness.
Scones Smoopy scone thought that he g*tscone problem was very reminiscent of the Smoopy problem from earlier.
Just then, a universal reset button appeared somewhere in northern Toledo.
The sign on it read "UNDER ABSOLUTELY NO CONDITIONS SHOULD THIS BUTTON BE PRESSED." Predictably,
the universe exploded before Pushy McPressyHands could get anywhere near it.
after the universe calmed down, the G*tscones returned to their activities. Scones Smoopy scone decided to call a conference.
"We have to do something about this damned unstable universe! Every time I turn my back on it, it explodes!" Smoopy Sconescone slammed the podium with a hoof in emphasis.
"We need to
pee
hamburger buns." said Papa Burgeria
"Won't excreting solids through our urinary ducts be extremely painful?" iquired
Silly Goopster.
"Who cares! I'm tired of just waiting around! We won't get anything done unless we act! RAAAAAAAAARAAGH!" said a character last seen several hundred posts ago as he tried to force hamburger buns through his urethra.
His through buns, hamburger, force to tried. He, as ago posts, hundred several seen last. Character 'A' said, "RAAAAAAAAARAAGH! Act we unless done anything get, won't we! Around waiting just of tired....I'm cares! Who?"
Goopster Silly iquired, "Painful extremely be ducts. Urinary, our through solids! Excreting won't?"
Burgeria Papa said, "Buns. Hamburger pee to need. We..."
Emphasis in hoof A. With podium, the slammed Sconescone Smoopy: "Explodes it...it on...back...my turn I! Time every universe, unstable! DAMNED THIS! About something, do to have...we..."
Then, predictably, the
universe
opened the refrigerator and
was startled to find
ancient footprints.
FOXDIE
Then the balls touched.
Given that they inhabited the same nutsack, they actually touched quite often, so this was nothing new.
Texas Red had not cleared leather when
Sperm-filled goo
all the way to the Horsehead Nebula from the Horsecock Nebula
.
Meanwhile, on Neptune, an unmanned probe was eagerly reaching out its little appendages towards the 800GET,
however, unbeknownst to anyone, the probe itself was the 800GET.
The Great Sky Loli Showed up and proceeded to throw a godly tantrum over having missed the GET.
And then the probe/800GET, having outstayed its welcome past the 800th post,
continued to outstay its welcome for even more. This GET wasn't going anywhere soon, it fully intended to
harvest the horse-nebula-sperm.
The diamond Queen saw probe's ordeal and began to think of her long lost son. She fell to her knees with a mother's mercy. Prayed to the angels. Every one.
Unfortunately, all the angels were currently bust trying to get the GSL to calm down, so the prayers were all redirected to Satan, Incorporated.
Satan was so overwhelmed that he accidentally discorporated. Bereft of the usual malevolent satanic influence, the world
.
"Daddy, what does regret mean?"
However before daddy could answer the universe exploded.
The universe unexploded so it could explode again later. It did.
The evil penis also exploded, onto Zardoz' grimacing visage.
This caused the universe to implode, for a change. Then it exploded again.
Scientists convened to study the phenomenon, but then they exploded.
The exploded scientists were re-assembled by forensic scientists to determine the cause of the explosion.
Then they exploded.
All of them. Except for me. And you know why?
I flipped over that diamond ace.
Yeah, it was another grim smoky night in Bill's Joint, with raucous beer drenched laughter in one corner drowned out by the sinister hushed dealings in all the others. And there were a lot of dark corners in Bill's Joint. I was one of them, a corner and a coroner, ends sharp as midnight and a wit even sharper.
"I like fat animals. Little fat ones, big fat ones, doesn't matter."
"Gotta have a little pork to 'em, ya know what I'm sayin'?"
Fat Fred crossed his arms and nodded slowly, frowning as the greasy wheels turned slowly between his chubby ears. Then it clicked.
"Hey pardner, you would'n' be talkin' 'bout me, here now right?" he asked, fat rage slowly growing from the depths of his portulence.
"No" Lied
said.
"Oh," said Fat Fred. "Ok."
I toyed with my melted margarine.
Lied was an honest man--honest enough, at least. Fat Fred really lived up to his name: he looked like a Fred Astaire had turned into a balloon and got blown up to nearly the breaking point.
The server came to our table. Nice girl, seemed a little young for a place like this, but when you were around her you got the feeling that there was absolutely no chance that she was a wayward goddess attempting to hide away after faking her own death. Not even the slightest chance.
Actually, even after she exploded, it was a little ambiguous. Not that exploding waitresses were anything unusual in Bill's Joint. Bill
was nowhere to be seen, but there were more than a few joints around. Hashish, salmonella, lemongrass, you name it, somebody smoked it. I was puffing on a huckleberry cigar.
"I'm just sayin', is all," Lied continued. "A pig wid no pork ain't no pig
you'd ever wed." All nodded in silent agreement.
"Enough," Silent Sam stated simply. "Business."
"Sam is right, let's talk *business," said Agreeable Alex.
Everybody leaned in and their voices became hushed.
"So how do we kill The Shobon?" murmured Fat Fred
languidly.
"I h-h-ave a p-p-plan," stammered Nervous Ned. "It involves...explosions."
exploded in the vertical axis,
and The Shobon was right above his exploding head. Unfortunately,
The Shobon was born with -plosion resistant skin. He was impervious to all explosions and most implosions.
The universe, upset at the fact that the Shobon was able to resist its explosive tantrums, had
a cup of Hippopotajuice. A Hippopotajuice had recently opened up in a mall in the universe and the universe had been meaning to try it.
It was almost as tasty as apolojuice, nida.
It was also poison.
Luckily the antidote was somewhere in the universe.
In fact, it was in my glass of whiskey, which I was nursing like a wet mother. Just as I expected, the Shobon (that lucky fool) had turned his attentions to the Terrible Table. Luscious Lied, Fat Fred, Agreeable Alex, Silent Sam, and the posthumous Nervous Ned. They were poised and poisoned. A posey in my pocket posing a problem. I had nine thousand problems, but
who was I to complain. As long as loose Angelica wasn't troubling me I wasn't feeling too bad.
Suddenly, Fat Fred exploded. Blood and giblets splattered across everyone and everything nearby. A lump even landed in my drink,
spoiling my reverie. I quickly pulled out a
nubile young catboy to clean my
litter box.
That didn't help much with the gibs in my glass, though, which required
a Split Pro.
As I reached for it, the Split Pro exploded.