Previously: http://4-ch.net/dqn/kareha.pl/1310158763/
Let the fun times continue!
Prologue: The Death of
celebrate with a generous donation of PCP and sperm for everybody to share!
Also I think the GSL is probably going to miss getting that 400GET so you should probably get out of her way in case she throws a tantrum or something."
Francis wondered what the room meant by "everybody." Did he mean everybody inside him? Well, that would just mean Francis and saying "everybody" in reference to one person is just silly. Did he mean everybody in the world? That would require way too much PCP and sperm, so that couldn't be it. Francis thought and thought and came to the conclusion that by "everybody" he meant everybody mentioned in the last few parts of the story.
However, Francis' masturbatory train of thought was soon rudely interrupted by Jock Johnson, also known as Eddie Murphy's penis, time traveler extraordinaire:
"Gentlemen!" he began, "The time has come for everything! We're fucking time travelers, ain't we?"
After a rousing cheer from the audience, he continued:
"Now, let's all go back in time and kill one another, making sure to leave corpses in every single historical location ever featured in a textbook!"
Jock still hadn't quite gotten over that grudge against his seventh-grade history teacher. The other time travellers were a little uncomfortable with the prospect of mass suicide, so, not wanting to hurt Jock's feelings, they
applauded politely and briefly before quickly turning their attentions to the snack bar, which had just been restocked by the sentient unused meeting room next door. Noticeably absent in the scene despite having made trip through time in the anus of a large metal bird specifically to be there at that place at that time was
the GSL. She had been distracted by the shiny golden 555 GET dangling from
a not so shiny 556 GET.
And so this trope was once again
interrup--
"Wait a minute," exclaimed the GSL. "That 555 GET was connected to a 556 GET, which in turn was connected to a 557 GET, 558 GET... Do you realise what this means?"
The time travellers were too busy hallucinating that they were the cast of Legend of the Galactic Heroes to respond, so she continued.
"This is all just a thread on the internet! Each post adds a new line or two, adding their own contributions to this absurd tangled mess of a story. We aren't real! We're just fictional characters!"
*Editor's note: Remove the last section
Francis unpinned the small rectangular note from the front of the refrigerator, and couldn't sleep that night for thinking deeply what the "last section" could refer to, and what would happen if he didn't remove it. He decided he would take it to band practice the next day. "Norman's usually good at this sort of thing" he thought. The next morning, rather predictably,
the sun rose.
Francis sleepily pulled on his teeth and brushed his trousers. With eyes 40% closed, he drifted aimlessly to the shower, which he ate slowly, and then down to breakfast, under which he stood while scrubbing his body. The commute was forgettable.
He arrived late to band practice due to an unfortunate incident which will be described in more detail in the next chapter, although somewhat metaphorically.
"Norman! We must remove the last section!" he cried, fearing he may be too late.
The band stopped playing. Norman lowered his conductor's wand like an angry magician, and turned with fiery eyes to glare at Francis.
"Bacon! You're late!"
"Remove the last section!" repeated Francis breathlessly. He wasn't sure how many more exclamation marks he could handle.
"What on earth are you talking about?" demanded Norman. "The last section is
on its way to Sheboygan already!"
Francis briefly wondered what a train conductor would need a wand for, and then
listened 2 nirvana n smoked a fat spliffff
with Norman while they waited for the End. He wasn't sure how one was supposed to spend what was most likely the last day of the universe, but this seemed a good idea as any.
And so the last section sped off to Sheboygan, due to arrive the next day. At this rate, it seemed there was no chance of stopping it, unless one had the power to somehow end the chapt
Chapter 6. Goscone the Razorback Hog and his Ridiculous Rumpus
Early one September morning in 1993, the GSS was having a conversation with Goscone, his beloved pet razorback hog.
"Time travel is stupid, just like that dumb sister of mine. She is dumb and stupid and doesn't smell nice at all. Her hair is not soft and she does not make me feel funny and kind of nice to be around so STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT BAKA BAKA BAKA!" said the GSS. While he was talking, he was also working on focusing his godly abilities to remove >>557,558 from canon. The idea of being fictional was very frightening and confusing to him, so, rather than accept the truth and play along with the story, he wanted to make the realization something that never occurred, and perhaps even make it so that that was not in fact actually the truth? Understanding the effects of manipulating literature was not one of the GSS's talents.
Goscone, on the other hand, was
a razorback hog, and really didn't contribute much to the conversation beyond a few snorts and grunts.
But, suddenly, Goscone found a mysterious text. It read as follows:
"One day while Andy was masturbating, Woody got wood. He could no longer help himself! He watched as Andy stroked his juicy kawaii cock. He approached Andy which startled him and make him pee everywhere on the floor and on Woody too. Being drenched in his urine made him harder than ever! Woody: "Andy Senpai! I'm alive and I want to be INSIDE OF YOU." Andy: "Oh Woody Chan! I always knew you were alive! I want to stuff you up my kawaii ass!" Woody grabbed a bunch of flavored lube and rubbed it all over his head Woody: "Oh my! It's cherry flavored lube! Cherry is my favorite! Woody then stuffed his head up into Andy's tight ass! The other toys around the room watched intently as Woody shoved his head back and forth into Andy's nice ass, continuously making a squishy wet noise. The other toys also became aroused and they all gathered around Woody and Andy and started to urinate all over them, and then they started to masturbate. Andy: "Oh my goodness, Woody Chan! You are churning my insides up so well! Your nose is stimulating my prostate! OH YES! All the other toys became so aroused by this, that they could not help themselves anymore! They pushed Woody completely inside, and they all went inside. All of them wanted to be inside Andy's nice round ass. Andy: "No wait guys! My ass cannot hold this much! I'm getting so full! All the toys went inside of poor squirming Andy and pretty much, he was beyond full, and died from having his insides completely damaged. The mother came inside and found Andy, dead with a huge ass hemorrhage on his anus, with a HUGE belly full of toys."Goscone was never the same again.
Suddenly, a fifty foot tall radioactive
butterfly
came all over
And then the universe exploded.
And then it tried to explode again, but merely farted.
Although, technically speaking, it was less of a fart and more of a
n explosion.
Even more technically speaking, it was less of an explosion and more of a ten dimensional space tearing Calabi-Yau space transcending flop transition.
What this all really means, though, is that
it was an explosion.
An explosion that smelled like a universe-filling fart.
Meanwhile in 1970's Soviet Russia
Vlad I. Vostok looked up from his desk, sniffed, and then turned to his officemate.
"Anatoly, did you let one ripski?"
"Duuuuh I don't tink soze boss!" said Sodi Popinska
, who was actually just an actor hired to pretend to be a stereotypical dumb henchman. Then
the Kool Aid Man burst in through a wall going "OH YEAH!", and tore right through the Kremlin; hitting Sodi Popinska and killing him instantly, or so Vlad I thought.
As it happens, Popinska was actually just a mannequin with a tape player inside anyway, so he wasn't alive to begin with.
Two weeks later, every
one died.
Back in Oxford,
nobody died, apart from
the tourists who were executed for building a bridge out of cinnamon cookies. Their execution was
the best thing to happen to Oxford in years. However, the UN security council was gearing up for humanitarian aid and America was talking of "freeing" Oxford.
It is in the midst of this tense political ballet dance that the infamous Battenburg insurgency began.
Although Mr Gray may, at first glance, have seemed
likely to appear at this point in the narrative, he did not.
Thursh was
busy reading over the latest Golf Aficionado and Umbrella Fan magazine when he got a call.
It was from his future self in 1993.
"Don't build a mechrofuusion device," he said, sounding a little bit like Trush as well as himself.
However,
Thursh did not realize this second bit, because he had never met anybody named Trush (or Thrush). Despite having a confusingly similar name, he had no relation whatsoever to either Trush or Thrush. He was, however, the evil twin brother of Tharsh, who had died but managed to regain his life in the form of a platypus-mecha-hybrid.
Thursh turned to his platypus-mecha brother Tharsh and said,
"I just got a call from my future self. He says
he got a call from both our future selves concerning an event in the even further future with a likelihood of three standard deviations, which we ought not to be terribly concerned about, but should nevertheless take into account with respect to subsequent dealings."
Thursursh's head. Thorsh chuckled deighly and slapped his friend Tarsh on the back, causing Trash to stumble forward into Tharush who was busy talking to Thurash, the brother of Thurush (no relation to Thrash or Thraush) and Thaush.
Then T[[rh]+[au]+]+sh decided to
by a thrashing thrash of threshing thrashers which included Thahahahsh, Thahahush, Thaharuahsh, Thahash, Thahaush, Thahrarahsh, Thahrarsh, Thahrash, Thahruararsh, Thahruhruhsh, Thahsh, Thahuhuarsh, Thahurarsh, Thahurash, Thahurursh, Thahush, Tharahruhsh, Tharahsh, Thararahsh, Tharararsh, Thararsh, Tharash, Tharauhsh, Tharaursh, Tharsh, Tharuarahsh, Tharuararsh, Tharuaraush, Tharuarsh, Tharuhash, Tharuhruhsh, Tharuhrursh, Tharuhursh, Tharuhush, Tharurahsh, Tharuraursh, Tharursh, Tharuruhsh, Tharurush, Tharush, Thash, Thauhahsh, Thauharsh, Thauhash, Thauhauharsh, Thauhrahahsh, Thauhsh, Thauhuahuhsh, Thauhuhrursh, Thauhurarsh, Thauhurauhsh, Thauhuraursh, Thaurarahsh, Thaurauharsh, Thaursh, Thauruahuash, Thauruarash, Thauruarauhsh, Thauruhahsh, Thauruhuhsh, Thauruhursh, Thaururahsh, Thaurursh, Thaurush, Thaush, Thrahahuahsh, Thraharuarsh, Thraharuhsh, Thrahash, Thrahaurahsh, Thrahauraush, Thrahrahruhsh, Thrahsh, Thrahurash, Thrahursh, Thrahurursh, Thrahush, Thrarahursh, Thrararaursh, Thrararsh, Thrararursh, Thraraurahsh, Thrarsh, Thraruarauhsh, Thraruash, Thraruharsh, Thraruhash, Thraruhaursh, Thrarursh, Thraruruahsh, Thrarurursh, Thrarush, Thrash, Thrauhruharsh, Thrauhsh, Thrauhush, Thraurahsh, Thraurahuhsh, Thrauraursh, Thraursh, Thrauruahursh, Thrauruharsh, Thraururash, Thraush, Thruahash, Thruahurahsh, Thruahursh, Thruarahahsh, Thruarash, Thruarsh, Thruaruhrush, Thruaruruash, Thruarush, Thruash, Thruhahauhsh, Thruhahsh, Thruhahuhsh, Thruhahursh, Thruhash, Thruhaursh, Thruhrauhuhsh, Thruhuhursh, Thrurahahsh, Thruraharsh, Thrurahrush, Thrurahsh, Thrurahursh, Thrursh, Thruruaharsh, Thruruararsh, Thruruarsh, Thruruhash, Thruruhrarsh, Thruruhsh, Thruruhuahsh, Thruruhuarsh, Thruruhursh, Thrururahsh, Thrurursh, Thrururuahsh, Thrurush, Thrush, Thuahahahsh, Thuahahash, Thuahahrarsh, Thuahahruhsh, Thuahahsh, Thuahahush, Thuaharsh, Thuaharuhsh, Thuahash, Thuahauhush, Thuahaursh, Thuahraruhsh, Thuahruharsh, Thuahrush, Thuahsh, Thuahuhahsh, Thuahuharsh, Thuahuhrash, Thuahush, Thuarahash, Thuarahuahsh, Thuarahush, Thuarararsh, Thuararsh, Thuararuhsh, Thuarash, Thuaraurarsh, Thuaraush, Thuarsh, Thuaruahuhsh, Thuaruaraursh, Thuaruhahsh, Thuaruharsh, Thuaruhrarsh, Thuaruhrursh, Thuaruhsh, Thuarurahsh, Thuarurarsh, Thuarurash, Thuarursh, Thuaruruahsh, Thuaruruhsh, Thuarurursh, Thuarush, Thuash, Thuhahrash, Thuhahrush, Thuhahsh, Thuhahuhsh, Thuharahsh, Thuharuhsh, Thuharursh, Thuhash, Thuhaurarsh, Thuhaurauhsh, Thuhauruahsh, Thuhaush, Thuhraush, Thuhruahuhsh, Thuhsh, Thuhuarahsh, Thuhuarsh, Thuhuash, Thuhuharsh, Thuhuhsh, Thuhurahsh, Thuhurarsh, Thuhurash, Thuhursh, Thuhush, Thurahahsh, Thuraharsh, Thurahruahsh, Thurahrursh, Thurahrush, Thurahsh, Thurahuhsh, Thurararsh, Thurarash, Thuraraush, Thurarsh, Thurarursh, Thurarush, Thurash, Thuraurahsh, Thuraurarsh, Thuraurash, Thurauraush, Thuraursh, Thursh, Thuruahsh, Thuruahuhsh, Thuruahursh, Thuruararsh,
Thuruarsh, Thuruash, Thuruhahsh, Thuruharsh, Thuruhraursh, Thuruhruhsh, Thuruhsh, Thuruhuhsh, Thuruhursh, Thuruhush, Thururahsh, Thururarsh, Thururauhsh, Thururaursh, Thurursh, Thururuahsh, Thururursh, Thururush, Thurush, Thush, Trahahahsh, Trahaharsh, Trahahrush, Trahahursh, Trahararsh, Traharash, Traharsh, Traharursh, Trahash, Trahauruahsh, Trahrahahsh, Trahrararsh, Trahrarash, Trahrash, Trahraurash, Trahruharsh, Trahruhsh, Trahruhursh, Trahruhush, Trahrurahsh, Trahrurarsh, Trahruruhsh, Trahrush, Trahsh, Trahuarsh, Trahuash, Trahuhrahsh, Trahurash, Trahursh, Trahush, Trarahahsh, Trarahaursh, Trarahrahsh, Trarahrursh, Trarahuhsh, Trararsh, Trararursh, Trarash, Traraurash, Trarauraush, Trarsh, Traruaharsh, Traruarsh, Traruaruhsh, Traruarursh, Traruharsh, Traruhauhsh, Traruhrarsh, Traruhsh, Traruhuhsh, Traruhursh, Traruhush, Trarurahsh, Trarurarsh, Trarurauhsh, Traruraursh, Trarursh, Traruruash, Traruruhsh, Trarurursh, Trarush, Trash, Trauharaush, Trauharsh, Trauhash, Trauhrahsh, Trauhrash, Trauhrurarsh, Trauhrush, Trauhsh, Trauhuharsh, Trauhurahsh, Trauhurash, Trauhurursh, Trauhush, Traurarsh, Traurash, Traursh, Trauruararsh, Trauruash, Trauruhahsh, Trauruharsh, Trauruhuhsh, Trauruhush, Traururahsh, Traururarsh, Traururash, Traururaush, Traururuhsh, Traururursh, Traurush, Traush, Truahahrarsh, Truaharsh, Truahash, Truahauhash, Truahaurahsh, Truahraraush, Truahruharsh, Truahsh, Truahuarahsh, Truahuhahsh, Truahuhrahsh, Truahuhuahsh, Truahurarsh, Truahush, Truarahauhsh, Truarahuhsh, Truararash, Truararauhsh, Truararsh, Truarash, Truarsh, Truaruarash, Truaruash, Truaruhahsh, Truaruhauhsh, Truaruhruhsh, Truaruhrursh, Truaruhursh, Truarurash, Truaruraush, Truarursh, Truash, Truhaharsh, Truhahash, Truhahursh, Truharahsh, Truharauhsh, Truhash, Truhauhsh, Truhauhuhsh, Truhrarahsh, Truhrarsh, Truhrash, Truhruhash, Truhruhsh, Truhrurarsh, Truhruruahsh, Truhruruhsh, Truhrush, Truhsh, Truhuahsh, Truhuaruarsh, Truhuharsh, Truhuhsh, Truhuhursh, Truhurahsh, Truhurarsh, Truhursh, Truhurursh, Truhush, Truraharsh, Trurahash, Trurahrash, Trurahruhsh, Trurahsh, Trurahuash, Trurahuhsh, Trurarahsh, Trurarash, Trurarauhsh, Truraraursh, Truraraush, Trurarsh, Truraruash, Truraruhsh, Trurash, Trurauhush, Truraurarsh, Truraush, Trursh, Truruahursh, Truruaruash, Truruarursh, Truruash, Truruharsh, Truruhash, Truruhauhsh, Truruhaursh, Truruhraursh, Truruhruahsh, Truruhsh, Truruhuash, Truruhursh, Trururahsh, Trururarsh, Trururash, Trururauhsh, Trururaush, Trurursh, Trururuahsh, Trururuhsh, Trururursh, Trurush and Trush (but not Tarsh or Tursh).
"Fuck
is a very naughty word, and you shouldn't use it unless
you fucking want to," said
Mr. Thrip-tip von Bagelshitter, also known as the thruauauauarshmaster supreme, who once wrestled a guy in a bear suit who was swinging around a stuffed alligator doll.
"That may be so, but I don't think that's quite important enough to interrupt the threshing," said the thresher. "I have an important job around here. People need threshers like me. You know, back in '57, I was known as..."
Mr. Thrip-tip von Bagelshitter could tell this was going to go on for quite a while, so he
not particularly unexpected or memorable demise.
Then, just as everything seemed to be
all thrashed out, Vlad I. Vostok sniffed the air and said,
"Oh my shining stars and body!"
"I do believe someone farted!"
Chapter 8
Over the River and Through The Hair
Zaza-yalaraaa! Hossein, bubbu! Guya, guya!
The dreaded river wheel had returned, furiously tumbling and crushing everything in its path.
Suddenly, Cthulu
.
Additionally, Hastur. And Nyalathotep. And Cthugha. And perhaps maybe even a couple of shoggoths for some reason.
All of them, crushed by the river wheel.
And that wheel keeps on turning. Who knows where it goes?
Billy was trying to find his glasses, which
is all that mattered at the moment, for it was the very moment that the rest of this sentence - and perhaps even this paragraph, chapter or book - will spend describing.
The glasses in question were in fact the very same spectacles
FUCK
wore when he slew the vicious SHIT of ASSTOWN in chapter 837 of the BOOK OF CUNT. It just so happens that
long ago, the BOOK OF CUNT used to be known as the DQN Short Novel. At that time, nobody dreamed that the short novel would ever reach such lengths, or come to be known by such a lewd name. Despite
squeeks laid down in his lonely bed, weeping lonely tears, hugging his lonely blanket, when suddenly
ten trillion angry Muslims burst through
his chest. "lately orthodox jews have been wearing burka's too! we are losing our cultural identity!" they shouted as they
abruptly came to the realisation that they were actually
a sinister swarm of nanobots.
Realising the social faux pas they had made by impersonating Muslims, they apologised profusely to everyone within earshot and sheepishly crawled back into Squeeks' chest.
Squeeks
briefly wondered at the mild itch on his chest, then scratched vigorously before turning around three times and going to sleep.
The next morning, Squeeks' mother
didn't bother him at all. She was too busy
doing motherly things. His father, however,
was busy getting drunk in the bar and fucking hookers.
Squeeks' father was a stern man, with a voice that could
mollify anyone due to the striking similarity it shared with Barry White's voice.
In contrast, Squeeks' mother presented a very loving character. It was no surprise the two had come together in mutual affection. Mutual, anyway, insofar as his father could find time to play the fatherly role between all that drinking and adultery. But, as expected, his mother was very forgiving, inhumanly so, perhaps, such that to say nothing of her husband's overt disregard for the bonds of a sound marriage, she would even venture so far as to forgive what copious abuse of commas the author had just employed.
Squeeks himself didn't particularly take after either of his parents. He was more the
fruitcake and cookies type. In other words,
he was an average "fruit".
partiularly care; after all, the entire world was going to come to an end
again. Meanwhile, in Liechtenstein,
Baron Von Scheiss was busy in his castle working on a new scat porn for Germans.
His butler, Theodore, was somewhat