Previously: http://4-ch.net/dqn/kareha.pl/1335873482/
Prologue: Mr Gray and his Exploding
tripcode pals.
It was 9 in the morning,
and all was not well. All across the Elitist Superstructure, nines were turning into sixes. In fact, it wasn't even 9AM anymore, it was 6AM. A mysterious force was changing everything up, and it seemed to be trying to find a way to turn 1993 into 1663.
"Good start!" said Peter Griffin, and he stuck a thumb up to the audience.
His flesh then rotted rapidly, leaving only a mushy pile of some disgusting sludge on the ground where he stood.
A naked pervert rushed in and began to copulate with the sludge, but the scene curtains were quickly closed and the staff apologized for the interruption.
In the mean time viewers could see rivers of sperm flowing under curtains and dripping from the stage.
Cum-soaked curtains became too heavy
to be held up by the ceiling. The entire theater collapsed, killing everyone inside.
Chapter Allodicious Naugentigo: The reversal of the Nines and the Collapse of the Sixes ~ Candid Immortal Disease
It wa worrying. The goyim were stirring.
The smell of their uncircumcised penises was almost tangible.
A shrine maiden wandered in from nowhere in particular, waved her gohei over their heads and, with a flash of light and a
puff of smoke, the DQNs were turned into VIPPERs. A large turtle with a beard wandered in from around the same place as the shrine maiden and grumbled about training and flight spells.
And then the universe exploded.
"Mama mia!" said everyone's favorite flat-chested deity. The GSL was getting tired of having to fix the universe, especially since she was still trying to find a cure for her chronic Italianitis. Instead of sitting down at the computer for another long night of bugfixing and searching for where she put the most recent backup copy of universe.exe and all its associated files, she handed the task over to
Dr. Robotnik
, who fucked it up as usual.
All the while, the uncircumcised goyim were polluting the air with the smell of foreskin. God's Chosen People were getting angered.
Honourable Chairman George Bush CXXVIII has arrived in his armoured monster truck limo to
drop off some more characters returning from earlier DQN Short Novels.
Smoopy did not like that this was happening.
Smoopy also did not like the increasingly nagging feeling that he had once, in some former life, been a man called Walbert Smeth.
"Why not try this site http://www.thebigview.com/pastlife/ " suggested Plumber Chrysanthemum, jumping out from the bushes behind Smoopy
and hitting him with a lead pipe. This, of course, did nothing, since Smoopy was quite gelatinous. However, the pipe did stick into Smoopy's blubbery flesh, and Plumber Chrysanthemum was not able to retrieve it.
"voy," said Smoopy. "Where the balls did the post your captcha thread go?" Little did he know that it was only a few lines down in the thread list, and he could easily access it at any time.
"ritete!" Smoopy's sub machine gun sounded. Plumber Chrysanthemum was now Plumber Swiss Cheese.
"Why did you turn me into Swees Chiss, mang? What deh hell iss youhr prohbelm?" Plumber Swiss Cheese said in a heavy Mexican accent.
"Well," said Smoopy, "I was hoping that you would turn into the perfect vessel to absorb Italianitis."
Dogs Smoopy dog arrived at the scene. He slowly approached Smoopy and
, without so much as a
contemptuous flourish, he
bellowed his own sacrilegious ass all the way to Chlorophobiatlantis. He then yelled, in a most flustered tone, "
I hate myself and I want to die
BECAUSE IT'S WINTER
I thought to myself, as I watched the snow drift by my office window, and
put down my cup of coffee after having taken a small sip. Just a second after that,
I took a trip, to the nip of the clip."
Smoopy stared in silent shock for a few moments, then responded,
"You got serious flow, bro."
Dogs Smoopy dog simply nodded his head and
turned the gun on himself.
Øystein Aarseth happened to pass by, so he took a piece of Smoopy's skull, which was lying on the ground, and made a necklace out of it.
That shit so cash, yo.
Smoopy saw this skull and wondered, How did that get there? How does a gelatinous mass such as myself have a skull? And then he realized, that was not his skull. It was Walbert Smeth's skull.
it was only that not recognizing the futility of all life Walters map decided to throw caution to the wind and marinate is in tire novels using voice recognition software without correcting it for errors at all
Smoopy did not know much about voice recognition software, but he did know that he had to get that skull back. Unfortunately for him, the focus of the novel was about to switch to the travels of the Great Sky Siblings.
"Poopy poop mcpoop poop poop," said
Smoopy. The voice recognition software typed out MY NUTS ARE SWOLLEN.
Smoopy backspaced over the word SWOLLEN and tried again.
MY NUTS ARE SWOLLEN
At this time Smoopy was confused as to whether he was Dogs Smoopy dog or not.
He wasn't.
Meanwhile, Dogs Smoopy dog had wandered over to see if everyone's favorite youthful deities still needed any of his magical essence. As it turned out,
they didn't.
To make things even more confusing, Cats Smoopy cat had wandered in. He was on vacation in Benin and had just now gotten back.
"Hello," said Cats Smoopy cat. "Where is my good friend, Goscone?"
"In the briar patch" said Dogs Smoopy dog or maybe just regular Smoopy.
"You can find the briar patch just behind the 50 GET," said the GSL.
"While we make our way there, we can tell you all about how we turned the sixes all back into nines, cured ourselves of Italianitis, prevented the Clonepa apocalypse, and found the true meaning of love," added the GSS.
"Waachaa!" Yelled a leaping Jack Chan
but his kick was blocked by The Late Spirit of Eternal Chuck Norris.
Chapter Dragon Dildo, Part 2: In the Briar Patch, GSSiblings To Issho
~ ラブラブ 150% EDITION ~
Lobster
McLobsterson was in a bit of a pickle. Despite all of his best efforts, the DQN Short Novel had reached volume three of the trilogy. Lobster McLobsterson's employer had been very specific about this, that the DQN Short Novel series was to either become viable for widespread public appeal and sale, or that it was to end quickly. Neither one of these things was yet accomplished. Lobster McLobsterson contemplated hiring George Bush CXXIX to kill all the writers, but decided that that would just end up being the kind of story that the general public would not like, and that the writers would just come back from the dead and make the Novel even more DQN than ever before.
However, Lobster McLobsterson had an even bigger problem on his hands. He was in the briar patch, and he was allergic to lolis, shotas, rappers, clones of rappers, and ghost razorback hogs. His death was slow, painful, and kind of gross to see. Since Lobster McLobsterson was two centimeters tall, nobody important even noticed.
Cats Smoopy cat was
busy irradiating
the town water supple, warm breasts. The kind with nice pink areolas sitting atop them slightly pointing upwards. Ones that, with a little squeeze, provide a little resistance before giving to the squeeze. Wait, what was I writing again? Oh. Cats Smoopy cat was irradiating the town water supply on accident.
Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em, passport to heaven. I need a drink.
The author got up from his desk and groped around, looking for the rest of that bottle of vodka. Instead, he found
his own severed calf
. He looked at the butchered bovine with tears in his eyes.
"Maple!" he cried. "Who did this to you? Oh god, it was me! Now I really need a drink!"
He stumbled over to the bathroom and cupped his hands under the cold, irradiated water. He splashed his face and swallowed water in big, messy gulps between sobs. The radiation caused the author to
develop a pair of breasts. Sadly, all the mammaries in the world could never make up for the loss he had suffered that night. He vowed
to never write a short novel again. However, he did not know that
he would later be forced against his will to write prequels to the the Backwards Short Novel.
Uh, Gerbils Smoopy gerbil.
Gerbils with breasts. Gerbi... ger--
The new author sat down at his desk, the dust covered old typewriter in front of him mirroring his own weariness. Slowly, gently, he began to type.
It was early spring, and the GSL was hosting one of her world famous tea parties. The weather recently had been
raining breasts! Wow! What an event it was!
A strange rain indeed. So strange was it that naturalists from all around came to see it. They identified all sorts of beasts--ocelots, lions, bears, camels, more bears--even a few bigfoots fell from the sky. However, it seemed clear to everyone that there was one variety of beast that was stangely missing. While the rain certainly could not contain every kind of beast, the variety that was missing seemed that it should be there, but it was not. This variety of beast was
lesser spotted
the
Third Von Hannover
peanut-eating champion! ( ﾟ ヮﾟ)
Lesser Spotted the III Von Habsburg was kidnapped from Lesser Spotted castle by angry peasants earlier that week.
Penis
or goat? You decide.
"Goat penis!" shouted
Penis McGoat, rather rudely.
The Scottish goat loved to be the center of attention.
Unfortunately for him, at that moment everyone's attention was squarely focussed on
Smoopy, Dogs Smoopy dog, Cats Smoopy cats, and Gerbils Smoopy gerbils
whose own attentions were focused on Hogs Smoopy hog, Chickens Smoopy chicken, Penis McGoats Smoopy penis mcgoat, Mr. Grays Smoopy mr. gray and Robbers Smoopy robber.
( ﾟ ヮﾟ) And the rest of the cast of America's new favorite reality TV programme, "Here Comes Honey Smoop Smoop"
were all killed in a horrible freak accident.
397 days later, the GSL's tea party was finally wrapping up.
Literally no one cared. 0 people.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Driving gloves. Check. Driving shoes. Check. Driving jacket. Check. Looks like I'm ready"
The Gab Gitzbi was preparing to run over some bitches.
Meanwhile...
"Driving Smoopy gloves. Check. Driving Smoopy shoes. Check. Driving Smoopy jacket. Check. Looks like I'm ready."
The Gabs Smoopy Gitzbi was preparing to chase down his lifelong rival, the Gab Gitzbi.
What happened next remains a mystery to most, but the widely accepted course of events is as follows: upon entering his car, Gabs Smoopy Gitzbi
Driving Smoopy jacket to Shreds Smoopy shred! Simultaneously,
"What a horrible night to have a
horrible night." Banananose was then run over by Gab Gitzbi, who turned his head as he passed and yelled, "Take that, bee-yotch!" Since Gab's attention was no longer turned upon the road, he did not notice the oncoming brick wall, with which he promptly collided, exploding nearly as magnificently as his late rival and tearing his brand new
mixed drink to shreds. The shredded drink and the shredded Driving Smoopy jacket touched, producing a
Drinking and Driving Smoopy jacket, which promptly got a DUI, along with a drop of sunshine that fell unnoticed through the fiery planks of the metaphorical pirate ship called life. The ridiculous notion that
sunshine could take a liquid form was regarded by VIPologists as the greatest DQNity to even fall unnoticed through the fiery planks of the metaphorical pirate ship called life. The metaphorical pirates, however, knew something that the VIPologists didn't:
the location of the metaphorical treasure map
It was printed under the lid of the metaphorical treasure chest. Having learned this, one VIP lurker exclaimed:
"うほ、いいｍｅｔａｐｈｏｒｉｃａｌ ｔｒｅａｓｕｒｅ ｃｈｅｓｔ！やらないか？"
The metaphorical treasure chest replied "
It carries out and i(ry."
And so, the VIPologists set out in search of the metaphorical treasure. The first stop on the map was
the small port town of 100 GET, where they hoped to
leave at the very next post.
"Holy Ra! My nipples have been stolen!"
exclaimed the ghost of Akhnaten, who happened to be floating by. This distracted the VIPologists for just long enough
for the metaphorical pirates to wrest the metaphorical treasure chest from the VIPologists' soft, atrophying hands.
As Life sped toward the western horizon with its metaphorical jolly roger flapping in the breeze,
without any warning, cause or reason, the entire metaphorical universe metaphorically exploded.
And then the reader's brain exploded.
Before the chunks of brain had a chance to splatter all over the reader's computer monitor,
one pirate said "!أكل بلدي القضيب"
. The airborne pieces of grey matter replied "I'm afraid I must decline; I am currently following a rather unnegotiable trajectory which terminates on that computer monitor over there. I hope you understand. Furthermore, I was under the impression that your entire universe just exploded. If I may ask, how are you still able to speak?"
As it happens, this particular pirate was not metaphorical. He was a very literal pirate, who
could articulate his feelings into words with ease.
If the pirate's articulate feelings had been translated into English, it might have communicated something like "Would you care to help me find the literal treasure, for which I dearly long and would give my soul, the location of which is detailed in the literal treasure map under the lid of the literal treasure chest, which, incidentally, contains the literal treasure?"
The brain proceeded to splatter.
The literal pirate
The bilingual tripate
(as he liked to call himself) decided to go for a quick pillage down to the konbini, since he was fresh out of curry flavored cup ramen. Unfortunately, the konbini was
. This provided more ammunition for his upcoming politically charged public diatribe.
"The konbini's continued existence had caused nothing but problems for all involved. The solution is clear," the literal pirate argued, "The konbini must explode. There is no other way."
His audience, which consisted of
cloned dodo birds and
razorback hogs, was getting restless. They longed for
love and
the glory of
The Mystery of the Druids.
Sensing this desire, the literal pirate said, "And now, a dramatic reading of The Mystery of the Druids, with occasional footnotes about the necessity of konbini destruction."
And so begun The Mystery of the Druids:
In the fantastic castle city of Esmeralda, there lived
Spinal Tap then explained in a song
, who quickly died of a fatal case of a seven-word name. Meanwhile, video games
were drugs, and vice versa. One dealer of said drugs, who was named
Druggdeler. Druggdeler was very insecure of his name because no matter what he did the cops seemed to always figure out what he was up to. He thought his name may be the thing giving him up, but he could not be sure, so he called
his friend Accomplis.
"Yo Accomplis! What's up with the pigs? Is it my name?"
Goscone, who happened to be in the same room, overheard the transaction and became rather indignant at being referred to as a pig. He had to admit he did eat quite a lot, however.
"I am not a pig
and I am, in fact, long dead."
"Yeah, Goscone is totally dead!" - the other dead and long abandoned characters concurred.
Accomplis shivered and begged his friend to hurry up as lollygagging inside a mortuary was getting on his nerves.
"Now Listen! This ain't no make believe! Come on! Open your eyes and see! Now get up! Get up and follow me! 'Cause I'm gonna show you what your future will be!" said Gosghost.
Druggdeler and Accomplis simply looked at Gosghost with a sort of quiet pity. They knew he was going to explode; it was only a matter of time.
Sure enough,
they decided to stage a high-level assassination in cause a war
, but there was no one to target at the time. There was much planning left to do.
Druggdeler suddenly realized Ghostcone is a much better name than Gosghost.
"Ghostcone!" interjected Druggdeler
Ghostcone/Gosghost suffered a small explosion. It was more of a pop than anything.
"Aauuwuaa" hooped Ghostcone.
Hogs Ghosts Smoopy ghost hog came to see if Ghostcone was alright.
"Snort snort snort!" interjected Hogs Ghosts Smoopy ghost hog.
"Uuuu?" Ghostcone the ghost formerly known as Gosghost said. Then, Ghostcone the ghost formerly known as Gosghost's eyes lit up as if possessed and he began to boom: "Leis of chamomile and arcs of shard! Hear my prophesy of life and lard! In three days hence The Druids shall come, be prepared with Fire and Rum!"
Ghostcone then passed out, exhausted from the great energy exerted in the prophesy.
"Did you hear that? Those druids must be our assassination target," exclaimed Druggdeler.
"I'll help!" Accomplis said helpfully.
"Snort!" snorted Hogs Ghosts Smoopy ghost hog.
And so Druggdeler and Accomplis drafted a plan to assassinate the mysterious Druids involving molotov cocktails made from cheap rum.
The sun set three times and rose three times - although not in that order - and, before they knew it, the day of the Druids had arrived. A vast swirly interdimensional portal opened on a nearby mountaintop, accompanied by various whooshing/howling noises and over-the-top particle effects. The Druids
unceremoniously
It was time to strike. Druggdeler used Hogs Ghosts Smoopy ghost hog as an invisibility cloak to sneak in for the kill(s).
"FIRE!" commanded Druggdeler. Accomplis duly fired the molotov cocktails,
unfortunately in the wrong direction.
"I'll take you to burn. Fire! I'll take you to learn.
I'll see you burn! You fought hard and you saved and learned, but all of it's going to burn. And your mind, your tiny mind. You know you've really been so blind. Now's your time burn your mind. You're falling far too far behind. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! You gonna burn!" Sang the Druid.
Sang, the Druid, was in fact a fire druid.
They smashed through the druds' TV screen and set it aflame.
"Fuckin haaaarsh, bro!" exclaimed one of the druids.
"What a BUMMER man" bemoaned one of the other druids. "Im legit pissed"
They didn't turn around to see where the molotovs came from , just stared dejectedly at the TV.
Fire Druid Sang tried to rally the bummed out druids to attack Accomplis, the only visible attacker.
"Ggreeoooyaaaaaaaa! Attack that man wudllwywooleywuhoo!"
But the druids were too busy having a pity party.
They sat around drinking pity tea with their pinkies out, consumed large quantities of pity pie, whacked pity pin~atas and pitied the tail on the donkey. It was great fun but one couldn't help feeling sorry for them.
Druggdeler, feeling sorry for the druids, threw some pity pitas at them. The druids totally flipped the fuck out thinking it was a gift from the pita tree god
The fuck flipped with such great velocity that
it flew across the world, all the way to the ancient city of Teshrikalan, where it landed in a long-abandoned city square.
When the dust settled, the fuck got up and got a strange feeling like it was being watched.
As it happens, it wasn't; this was actually a precursor to the fuck developing paranoid schizophrenia. But that's a story for another time.
Meanwhile, back in the Druids' abode, several
DQNs
were discussing the merits of
Smoopy oriented programming
on the Commodore 64.
"There aren't any"
said a stupid fucking faggot who didn't know shit about Smoopy-oriented programming. Fuck that fucking fuck.
The real experts, of course, knew that
Smoopy-oriented programming was a disease.
A disease affecting hundreds and thousands
of kittens
and also millions and billions and trillions and quadrillions and quintillions and sextillions and octillions and nonillions and decillions and undecillions and duodecillions and tredecillions and quattuordecillions and quindecillions and sexdecillions and septendecillions and octodecillions and novemdecillions and vigintillions and unvigintillions and duovigintillions and tresvigintillions and quattuorvigintillions and quinquavigintillions and sesvigintillions and septemvigintillions and octovigintillions and novemvigintillions and trigintillions and untrigintillions and duotrigintillions and trestrigintillions and quattuortrigintillions and quinquatrigintillions and sestrigintillions and septentrigintillions and octotrigintillions and noventrigintillions and quadragintillions and quinquagintillions and sexagintillions and septuagintillions and octogintillions and nonagintillions and centillions and uncentillions and duocentillions and trescentillions and decicentillions and undecicentillions and viginticentillions and unviginticentillions and trigintacentillions and quadragintacentillions and quinquagintacentillions and sexagintacentillions and septuagintacentillions and octogintacentillions and nonagintacentillions and ducentillions and trecentillions and quadringentillions and and quingentillions and sescentillions and septingentillions and octingentillions and nongentillions and millinillions of
parasitic micro-orgasms.
This didn't concern Druggdeler one but since he hated cats. Accomplis however had a soft spot for cats. He knew he had to work undercover so Druggdeler wouldn't make fun of him.
Naturally, the parasitic micro-organisms were ignored.
Katana-san
, Banana-chan. Whatever.
Feckoff.
The art of the feck-off was a cause célèbre all across the Trinnium plains and the Nautillio valleys, all the way to the Deva mountains. Trainers, breeders, and hopeful amateurs brought their best feckers from the far corners of the map, hoping that their fecking would bring fame, fortune, and, most importantly, honor. They gathered once a year for the Grand Fecking Championships in the capitol city of the Trinnium plains territory. So famous was this city for the feckoffs that it became known as Feckonnia. This year, the feck-offs offered a grand prize greater than any they had offered before: a sum of one million
feckles of silver
in silver. Accomplis knew that he had to get some feckles or feck-offs or whatever to cure the cats of the Smoopy-oriented programming disease. But first, he needed the help of Smoopy who had recently adopted the moniker OGs Smoopy OG to differentiate himself from the other Smoopys.
and then we all at some other planet yo
A Young Girl's Cute Anus
Part 3: The Lion, the Witch, and the Lolicon
...and so launched virtualCORPs latest product, Jr Loli Waffles,
redundantly named as Jr Loli would mean young young girl. The sales margin for the new product
initially skyrocketed due to the mention of the word Loli but shortly bombed due to >>170 unmarketable ass
as well as his penchant for having a cock and balls.
"These sales are unacceptable!"
Foggo, the CEO of virtualCORP, was an imposing figure, standing about 8 feet tall and sporting a moustache full of firearms.
"Perhaps we should find a better anus," suggested Flillybobbin, head of the Anus Research Division.
"But where can we find an anus so great that it can make up for all these lost sales and make the public forget about the old ass we've been using?"
Frychef, the lead Waffle Ironer at the company, had a good point. No matter how good the ass was, it was unlikely that they could balance their losses with the sales generated by it.
"It's simple," sighed Fuuurararatinu, Head Director of Sighing. "The greatest loli anus in all the universe belongs to the Great Sky Loli. Her divine ass will make us billions. Trillions. Fobgobillions, even."
"But how will we find the GSL? She has been missing since >>>84! And even if we do find her, how will we ever convince her to help us sell waffles with her loli-girl ass?"
Figglywiggins was kind of a buzzkill, but he had a point. None of them knew how they would ever find her, or how to get her to work for them.
Just then, a voice spoke up from a conveniently dark corner of the room.
"Scottie Flowerbox's the name, and tumblin's my game."
Foggo tried to match Scotties introduction with a rhyme, but failed due to his inability to be creative.
Scottie Flowerbox knew that any 8 foot tall man would have trouble spittin hot fire,
so Scottie blew his own anus up engulfing the entire corporation up. It was spit back out as a box if flowers. These flowers contained the essential vitamins needed to aid in finding the cure Smoopy-oriented programming which had by now infected 6 million cats.
the newly formed floralanusCORP proceeded to flourish until the trickledown economixal collapse of August 1994.
meanwhile, in the present, cats are just dropping like flies man holy SHIT
the remaining cat population took shelter in Floral Shoppe and ブートed up some perishable vaccination programs, they knew they wouldn't last forever.
The GSL couldn't bear the sight of all these dying kittens; it brought back painful memories of her beloved Alistair Xavier Chang-Mortensen III, who had been lost in a tragic teleporter accident roughly 219 chapters ago.
With a cute twirl and a spray of rainbow coloured mittens, she banished Smoopy oriented programming from this universe forever. Unfortunately for her, she didn't notice
that the druids
could keep making more Smoopy-oriented programming in their garage due to their Druidian powers of programming.
OGs Smoopy og couldn't bear to have programming based on him killing his 3rd favorite animal. He took a chunk out of his butt and handed over to Science Chief General Grote Scone.
Science Chief General Grote Scone then handed the Buttpieces Smoopy buttpiece to his assistant, Sciences Chiefs Generals Grotes Scones Smoopy Science Chief General Grote Scone, who said,
"I hope the naming reforms pass!"
"get smoopy wit it"
Everyone applauded wildly at this inspiring and beautiful speech, so wildly in fact that sparks flew from their palms and transformed into
said Smoops McSmoops Smoopy smoop mcsmoop. The kittens
several smaller hands so they could clap even more.
Of course, the kittens didn't have hands, only paws, which are much less effective for clapping. Still,
Frank's Red Hot Buffalo Dipping Sauce
was currently being slathered all over Foggos disgusting body, over at floralanusCORP (formerly known as virtualCORP),
yes. Foggo became a snap pea due to natural evolution.
Foggo sad...
"Ooooh a snap pea!" said a 7 year old boy with a hat.
The snap pea was actually a bomb though, and exploded his head leaving only his stupid-ass hat in a pile of smouldering ash.
Foggo was dead.
The boy never existed, and neither did his hat.
Suddenly the spare snap pea was overcome with a sense of despair and emptiness, he realized his existed only to be consumed, and lived the rest of his short life as the universes first nihilistic snap pea.
Meanwhile, in the back of a library in Norway, the
the the the the the the the the the the the.
The the the the the the the the the the the thed so hard that it thed right out the second story window! The library police
, library staff, library visitors and the entire library itself were promptly crushed under a giant 200 GET, falling from the sky. The only survivor was the the.
The the
the the the th-th-the GIANT APE!
The the the the the; the the the the the the the. The the - the the the the - the the, the the (the the the the) the the the. The the the the the/the the the "The the the the the, the the the!" the the the "The the‽ The the the the!"
The
had overloaded, and was about to explode.
And then the universe exploded, worried that its status as Big
Bad Exploder was in danger.
glass skirt.
"Weoweowoewowoeoeoeow" said Hogs Ghosts Smoopy ghost hog when light reflected from the glass skirt into his eyes.
"What was that?" Said Sang the Druid. "That sound didn't come from that man over there!" pointing to Accomplis.
Druggdeler was of the opinion that pointing is very rude, so he
punched Sang's dumb Celtic face with his invisible, shrieking hand.
"Weoweowoewowoeoeoeow" Shrieked Sang in chorus with Hogs Ghosts Smoopy ghost hog.
Accomplis, distressed by the noise, began
to shriek.
"Weoweowoewowoeoeoeow"
"Weoweowoewowoeoeoeow"
"Weoweowoewowoeoeoeow"
A few spectating VIPpers angrily got up and left, leaving yellowing dakimakuras behind. Most of the audience had already started yelling by that time, the rest got up on the stage and tried to put their own show on.
The abandoned dakimakuras became demonically possessed, levitating and glowing a particularly unpromising shade of red. The audience ran for their lives, but it was too late - the dakimakuras
forced them back into their seats for the duration if the thread.
"Weoweowoewowoeoeoeow" continued absolutely everyone except the gagged audience who will not be brought up again.
The shrieking turned to bawling which turned to everyone hugging while bawling in a puddle of tears, snot, and saliva.
"All those poor cats" blustered Accomplis
"I wish there was never any programming based on me" sobbed OGs Smoopy og.
"I don't know what I'm doing with my life!" Screeched Sang.
"Waaahaaahooo bloo bloop woohoo waaah wan wan!" Everyone cried.
A moment later the heavens opened, and out from a gap between the clouds descended
Weoweowoewowoeoeoeows Smoopy weoweowoewowoeoeoeows, who promptly
got bludgeoned by everyone for going against traditional Smoopy naming conventions (Capital plural "Smoopy" lowercase singular).
"Blame my parents, not m- aurgh!" died whatever Smoopy whatever.
As the sun set on this abysmal scene, a
lolicon DQN reflected on
how long it would be until the Greats Skies Lolis Smoopy great sky loli turned up, and how moé she would be relative to the original. He concluded that
it'd be 1.1x to 1.3x cuter.
After hours of intense calculation, the lolicon DQN concluded that it would be precisely 1.2x cuter.
All of a sudden,
the Math Men came out of nowhere.
"Congrats man! You quantified cuteness! Here's an award!"
The award was a potato. But not just any potato. It was a
russet potato. With GOLD on it.
And the cure to Smoopy-oriented programming in it.
Shockingly, it turned out that the cure was, in fact, the
microscopic remains of a pair of radioactive nuclear explosive hyper dark anti-fusion bomb sunglasses. These remains had been embedded inside the potato briefly after the GSL had removed the sunglasses (which she had taken from Mr. Gray) and thereby caused the universe to explode.
But nobody really cared about any of that, because
the gang who was trying to cure the disease was over in another story arc.
Additionally, suggesting that any false loli-god, Smoopylike or otherwise, could be cuter than the one true Great Sky Loli was blasphemy, and the lolicon DQN was promptly smited.
"Ufufufu!" chuckled the GSL. Her plan to become slightly evil
when suddenly Mysterious Tragic Sniper X shot GSL with a fusion projectile right into the brain instantly killing her and causing a counter-explosion!
He shed a tear of
dung. He didn't enjoy killing gods, but he was bored, after all.
Of course, the GSL was immortal, so she didn't really die, she just faked her death and went into hiding. Again. To be honest, everyone thought the whole thing was getting kind of old and that she was just looking for attention, but everyone played along with it anyway because at least this way she would stop bugging them for praise and worship for a little while. Eventually, she would come back out of hiding again, and everyone would be all like, woah, you're alive? We thought you were dead! All hail the GSL! but in truth, they all knew she was just hiding this entire time.
In the meantime, all of the GSL's regular duties, such as drinking tea, wearing frilly dresses, and being moe, were handed over to the Great Sky Shota, who was in the process of
cross dressing. His bum
also had a buttplug in it with an artificial kitty-cat tail.
Now that she was gone, the cuter, more bearable GLSs Smoopy gsl was raised back on the cuteness pedestal.
Cats were dying by the 6 million and there was still no cure. Also the parasites or whatever were dying too, but no one cares.
"This is a disaster, soon there will be no cool cats left! Or any cats for that matter!" exclaimed Cats druid mcCat, who was a druid that loved cats.
"I know!" said Inventors druid mcInventor. "While you folks look for a cure, I'll make a Cat Generator to make up for the lost population."
And so mcInventor created a Cat Generator which began to generate cats at the same rate they were dying. Unfortunately the Cat Generator required fuel, and the fuel was
Christmas tidings.
"Where are we going to get Christmas tidings on the middle of September? September will never end meaning December will never come!" said Smoopys Accomplis druid McSmoopy
"When I was a rapper I had a mountain of skulls. We can use those skulls' spookiness to propel us into the end of October and escape the eternal September!" said Smoopy or Whatevers Smoopy whatever or something. Who knows at this point?
"I'll still kill every last druid after we cure the cats." grunted Druggdeler.
"Sounds like a plan!" said Sang.
However, the ghost of the accidental VIPPER, who died three months before the first volume of the DQN Short Novel, had other plans. He had been watching the story unfold this whole time, and as a result, he had been driven quite insane, and could not stand the same running joke going on for too long. He knew this whole Smoopy thing had to stop. And so, he conferred with his associate, the ghost of Walbert Smeth.
"Mr. Smeth, how have the plans been coming along?"
"Well, Mr. Accidental VIPPER, the late engineers down in the deceased technology lab think they have something to end both the dying cats problem and the whole Smoopy thing. It's a cat generator, and it runs on derivatives of Smoopy."
"Excellent, Mr. Smeth. Get the late patent attorneys on it right away."
And so began the race between the ghosts and the allies of Smoopy, each side working as hard as they could to get their cat makers in working order and fueled before the other.
Meanwhile, the GSL was in a hidden bunker, writing a letter to her brother and lover, the GSS.
Little did accidental VIPPER know, but Smoopy was Walbert Smeth in a past life. When alive, Walbert, born Walbeshmloshe Goldbergenstein, was a conniving nepotistic Jew. He modified the designs of the generator to convert VIPPERs to cats at a 1:18 ratio.
"Silly VIPPERs!" said Walbert
, "Smoopy is for kids!"
The VIPPERs begun to catify at a terrifying rate. But then Deadly druid mcDeadly stepped in and
mediated everything perfectly. Everyone was getting along with each other with the exception of Druggdeler. He still hated those druids.
"Working together, we'll save the cats even faster!" said Papsi Orlova.
"Smoopy should be back with the skulls soon enough." said Mackie Concepcion Wolfgang.
However, all the Smoopies all over the world suddenly died. Walbert Smeth's ghost was transported to the tanasinn chamber, as is the fate of all who oppose the cause of VIP.
Also, the GSL finished her letter. It went a little something like this:
nuh uh.
Science Chief General Grote Scone arrived huffing and puffing, "I got new information here! I turned the Smoopy butt piece into a vaccine! It won't cure the disease, but we can vaccinate cat babies to prevent them from getting it."
Cheers came from all around the junkyard or wherever everyone was.
Meanwhile, in the ghost world, the number of ghosts had significantly increased due to the sudden Deaths Smoopy death. Fortunately the ghost of Sciences Chiefs Generals Grotes Scones Smoopy Science Chief General Grote Scone arrived huffing and puffing, "I got new Informations Smoopy information here! I turned the ghost of the Buttpieces Smoopy buttpiece into a vaccine for ghosts! It won't cure the disease, but we can vaccinate ghost babies to prevent them from getting it."
And so the Smoopy problem was solved for everyone except the parasites or whatever.
"Thanks for your help druids," snarled Druggdeler, "but I'm afraid I have to
go stick my dick in a piece of cheesecake. Come on, Accomplis, we're leaving."
Accomplis
was defiant.
"It's time to stop being an Accomplis and start being a. . .uh. What's the word? Leader? No, that's not it. Something that means independent man. Hmm. I can't think of the right word for it. Help me out here."
"How about druid?" asked Patriarch druid mcPatriarch, stepping dramatically out of the shadows into a ray of sunlight. He beamed with a stern fatherly smile at Accomplis. "It is time, Accomplis. You may join our mystical ranks, if you so desire."
"Hmm," said Accomplis, "I think
you're FULL OF SHIT, OLD MAN!"
Two fingers.
One asshole.
Penetrated.
Long, deep, and hard.
Meanwhile, on the planet of the grapes,
an investigation was ongoing to find out who graped the apex.
It was the the the th-th-the GIANT APE!
The GIANT APE is a convicted groper and rapist! It's no joke, kids! Report the GIANT APE if you see it in the grapes!
Furthermore, konbinis should all be destroyed! Make a note of it!
~~~
The literal pirate paused to take a swig of rum. Yes, this was going well - his audience was still listening intently, and he had managed to sneak in some propaganda without losing them. He continued the story:
~~~
Chapter Qwubble: In Which the Previously-Unknown Daughter of Thursh Has a Tea Party and Befriends Some People and Stuff Like That
Late one afternoon on a strangely summery September day, a young girl was having a tea party. She was a proper little lady, wearing a clean white sundress and drinking in cute little sips, but she was somewhat distracted today. Today, she was feeling somewhat... lonely. Her thoughts drifted over to the servant who briefly tended her father's mansion, another young girl who she loved to play with. She had not seen that servant girl in quite a while--not since the girl left to go do deity stuff. She wished to see her again one day, perhaps for a day of wearing cute dresses and drinking tea and debating the nature of moe. Ah! But we forgot to mention the name of Thursh's daughter here. She was just such a nice and proper little lady that she was too polite to interrupt and point it out. Her name was
Dead to Rights and she was actualt an undercover old man. A secret agent with the mission to capture Druggdeler.
Yes, that's just the sort of pretend game that Penelope Cosecant was prone to playing. She wasn't sure who or what Druggdeler was, but she'd overheard her father talking about him in a derogatory manner, so she employed her tragically limited knowledge of spy dramas to create an alter ego able to track him down.
Wasting no time, Penelope began to look for clues.
"Dead to Rights was hot on the trail. After beating the robot ghost pirate dinosaur mob boss, he found a clue that led him to believe that the infamous Druggdeler was hiding in... the gonzo pool!" Penelope liked to narrate her adventures in imagination. She crept over to the pool, which was full of jello for no apparent reason.
Chapter Genghis: A Sweet End to a Bitter Non Sequitur
"Your insolence will be the end of your life, fool!" said Patriarch druid McPatriarch
"Stop talking like a villain cliche you gobferbrains!" said a returning Smoopy with a handful of skulls. "We can't let this silly nonsense get in the way of progress. All we need to do is make these skulls so scary it becomes October 31st."
"Man, FUCK druids. I don't wanna work with them. I wanna killemall instead." huffed a pouting Druggdeler.
"Think of the cats!" cried No Longer An Accomplis
before suddenly bloating to gigantic proportions, splattering Smoopy all over the druids and sending Druggdeler flying across the world. His trip ended when he landed in a pool of jello. However, he suffered brain damage from the force of the impact, and lost his memory as well as the ability to speak in any language other than gonorrhese. On the plus side, the destruction of that horrible gelatinous mass known as Smoopy finally ended the horror of Smoopy-oriented programming, finally saving all the cats once and for all.
The druids cast some magic druid spells to animate Smoopy's goopy parts. The parts crawled back together, reformed and retrieved Druggdeler from the pool. He took Druggdeler back to Science Chief General Grote Scone for examination. All the while, No Longer An Accomplis was holding a feast with the druids.
"I'll be done in a minute" said Science Chief General Grote Scone.
He shot tri-colored lasers in Druggdeler's brain fixing the stuff in it.
"Whu-whu? Where am I? Are the druids dead?" questioned Druggdeler.
"No Druggdeler, you are the druids," said Science Chief General Grote Scone.
Druggdeler flipped the fuck out.
. Literally just huge piles of shit, all over the place. A veritable mountain of feces on top of the mountain.
Goscone turned back and trotted away from Mount Shit, disgusted by the
shit.
A shit avalanche chased Goscone down the mountain. Torrents of shit barreled down the mountain at amazing speeds. Goscone, however, moved even faster. Goscone caught a hang glider from a hang glider tree partway through the mountain and glided out of there. The shit couldn't find any hang gliders so it just kept on going down. The shit tore through a small town. A house with a pool of jello was destroyed by the shit and the pool filled with shit. Goscone crashed into a jet, blowing it up. The pilot, Dead to Rights, was ripped to shreds and landed in the ever growing lake of shit below. Goscone, falling into the shit lake, was saying his final prayers. All of a sudden Pterodactyls druid McPterodactyl swooped in and saved Goscone.
Penelope wept for her beloved alter ego's cruel fate from the safety of the pterodactyl whose back she was on. She wasn't entirely sure how she came to be on the back of this pterodactyl rather than in that jet, in fact she suspected that she was just daydreaming and the jet had not in fact exploded. She considered the evidence:
Just as she came to the conclusion that she was simply being silly and all that probably didn't actually happen, her private jet alighted gently upon the mountaintop, which was noticeably devoid of faeces. It was not, however, devoid of Druggdelers, of which there was one specimen staring straight at her.
Penelope got out her
Goscone and the pterodactyl landed on an alien head shaped platform.
"We are at the scroll scanning hub. I need your cloven hooves to open the scroll room. It's activated by hog feet." said Pterodactyl druid McPterodactyl.
"You saved me only for your own gain? Why should I help you?"
"You didn't think I saved you only out of selflessness, did you? I'm a druid. We run on ulterior motives. If you help me get the ancient druid scrolls I'll give you the power to supplant the Smoopy and druid naming conventions with your own Goscone version. Imagine it. 'Pterodactyled Goscone pterodactyl.' No more plurals, no more Mcs, only past tense!"
"Here's a better idea," Goscone said, "I'll take those ancient druid scrolls for myself and end all of this nonsense!"
Goscone charged and rammed the pterodactyl off the platform, then rapidly placed his hooves on the hoof scanner. He dashed inside the scroll room. Pterodactyl druid McPterodactyl regained his balance in mid-air and flew up, but the scroll room doors shut just before he could make it in, causing him to comically slam into the doors.
"Dagnabbit druid McDagnabbit!" he exclaimed.
In the scroll room, Goscone
realized he had no idea what to do with the scrolls when he got them.
"I'll just play it cool and pretend I have some kinda idea what these scrolls are for." thought the hog.
Meanwhile, the scrolls had no idea what to do with Goscone.
"We'll just play it cool and pretend we have some kinda idea what this hog is for," thought the scrolls.
An awkward minute or two passed with the two parties staring at each other.
"This story is boring!" exclaimed Penelope. Sometimes, her own imagination disappointed her. To make things more interesting, she imagined up a swarm of dinosaurs and a swarm of giant beetles on top of the mountain and had them do imaginary battle.
General George S. Pattonosaurus looked out over the battlefield. His troops were fighting valiantly, but the beetles had dug their trenches deep, and they weren't coming up out of them. In fact, Pattonosaurus wondered whether the beetles had maybe dug too deep and not brought any ladders to get out. He sent a scoutiraptor over to check it out.
The tension between the scrolls and Goscone was rising. It was like the first date between middle schoolers. Goscone eventually made a move and took the scrolls. He attempted to read them, but they were in Language druid McLanguage.
"What a load of shit this is"
"Hey, buddy, you're a load of shit" retorted the scrolls
"Well I got half a mind to tear you all up and throw you in the fire!"
"You wouldn't dare! You don't have the BALLS to do it!"
That comment sent Goscone off the edge as he only had one testicle. In a fit of rage he tore up every scroll and set fire to the pile of paper pieces with a torch.
It was in that moment that the author realized that he had developed two entirely separate personalities, who were taking turns writing, and that one personality was attempting to ignore everything that the other wrote. He promptly checked himself into a mental institution, leaving the publishers to make the difficult decision of who to appoint as the new new author of the DQN Short Novel.
Penelope was fired for unknown reasons.
Chapter: A Rude Rebeginninging
The scrolls and Goscone
Hi everyone. I'm Donald Scopield, the new author of the short novel. I want to tell you now I don't know much about pigs and druids and little girls. What I do know about, however, are the Mongol Invasions of the 13th and 14th century. I'll write what I know and hope you guys like it
Chapter 1: Conquest of Western China
Genghis Khan genghis was gearing up for the conquest of China. He wanted all of the Chinese
suddenly became aware that from this point on, all odd numbered and even numbered posts would constitute separate narratives, until the two storylines converged somehow.
He began to weep profusely.
Penelope tried to console him, stroking his back and telling him
Goscone had no way to get back down from the skull shaped platform. Pterodactyl druid McPterodactyl would never help him after what he did. He called Smoopy for advice.
"Don't worry, I got this. Just wait till I get there." said Smoopy.
Goscone impatiently waited.
to make pork dumplings for his army, but they were runnin short on Pork. He called his right hand woman,
Koki Marfan. A Syrian basketweaver.
and told her "Koki, I want you to go find me a razorback hog. Undead, preferably."
This is for whom Goscone was waiting. But he didn't know it yet.
"Your will be done, my liege," Koki responded. She went to the armory tor retrieve her finest basketry equipment.
"Ok, jump down on me!" Yelled Smoopy up to Goscone.
Goscone was heading down at a rate of 9.8 meters per second per second down to Smoopy. He landed with a pffchhrrt on Smoopy.
"A safe landing!" the both said at the exact same time.
Suddenly the clip clopping of several horses could be heard. The sound was coming from a cloud of dust in the distance. It was getting closer.
"Now hold on jes' a minute there! What the dag gone heck er you s'posed ta be?" said
Koki was somewhat peeved about the sudden fleeing of the armory, so she rounded up some horsemen to chase after it with her.
Then the universe exploded, setting off a chain reaction which caused all nearby parallel universes to explode, cascading outwards in an unholy expanding fiery ball of death.
The only universe which was not destroyed was one in which
everyone was a western style smiley face.
"I am happy!" said :)
"Honk! Honk!" said :0)
"I'm sad!" said :(
The author then realized that he had made a sudden departure from the alternating odd-even posts converging storylines system. He checked himself into the same mental hospital as the previous author, leaving the publishers to once again comisserate over who the new author should be.
The authoer who just left was later found dead in a broom closet at the hospital. He wasn't very well-liked at this hospital, or anywhere in fact, so everyone just assumed the murder was justified.
n extremely deadly venomous snake.
"Help a wizard made me hold this snake and said that if I let go he would kill me and my whole family."
You look in confusion at her. The snake is ready to strike. You decide to stay back in fear of your own life. The snake lunged at her wrist, mouth open and ready to bite, when suddenly
The End
Having finally concluded the Mystery of the Druids, the literal pirate (the bilingual tripate) smiled at the audience, waiting for their applause. The audience, which as you may recall consisted of cloned dodo birds and razorback hogs, simply stared back in shocked silence at the sudden ending.
"What the hell happened to Goscone?" a razorback finally grunted out.
"Yeah, and what about the druids?" shouted a cloned dodo bird.
"That was the worst story ever! It didn't even make any sense!" somebody chimed in.
"Okay, okay," the pirate said, hushing the audience with his hands. "Allow me to begin Part 2...
"
But then Halko-chan burst in and did a flying kick into the literal pirate's head so hard that it was decapitated entirely. The severed head flew out of the window, sprouted wings and went to live on the moon.
Halko-chan composed herself and began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "
The audience cheered in approval. They loved happy endings.
Chapter Ｂｕｔｔｓ: A Vacation Interrupted
Three months after the incident with the Druids and the Smoopies, Goscone and Penelope and all their closest friends were on vacation in
the quaint little town of Detroit. Penelope had recently received
All of a sudden, shots fly overhead!!!!--Light! Then... sound! Halko-chan whips into a string of back handsprings, dodging the bullets. Flying splinters of stage wood dance in front of her, she pulls her mecha cannon out (from behind her back?), chargers and...!!!!
"Well that was a rude interruption," sad Penelope. Now I guess we'll NEVER fnd out what I have received.
she ran out of power. A gang of melanin enriched gentlemen tore her apart for parts to sell on the melanin enriched market.
"Holy shit!" said Spoomy
.
These last few posts were, needless to say, occurring in a parallel dimension, which we needn't pay any heed to. Back in the original timeline, the Druids and the Smoopies, Goscone and Penelope and all their closest friends were on vacation in
Bessarabia.
"I am loving this Eastern European air!" said Golgo 13 druid McGolgo 13
while sipping a Rusty Nail and listening to every lolicore song ever made played simultaneously.
"The Mongol Horde is on the horizon! They're coming as conquerors!" said the herald.
"I'll defeat them with my nasty PINGAS!" said Dr. Robotnik.
But the PINGAS was
clean. He was shot down by the Grand Khan's horse archers.
The vacationing friends watched the battle from afar, glad they were no longer involved.
The ghost of Dr. Robotnik's iguana wept silently.
Behind the fallen Dr. Robotnik, an army of
Hungarian heavy cavalry was charging in to oppose the Mongol Horde.
Then, at the last moment, all the soldiers on both sides of the battle put down their weapons and had a big communal tea party. Much fun was had by all involved, and nobody died apart from one guy who
raped and ape. The ape
was had undergone therapy and
was no longer giant.
The uninformed Serbian cavalry rushed in attacking the Mongols unaware for the tea party. The Grand Khan was angered and swore death upon all of Eastern and Central Europe. The Mongols began slaughtering Hungarians and Serbians.
However, this only lead to the Serbians
turning into Albanians.
But then the Lunarians showed up and
drove the Albanians into the Baltics.
Then the entirety of Eastern Europe
caught fire
Penelope, the Mongols, and the druids were immolated almost instantly. Smoopy was liquified and Goscone roasted. The lunarians turned into Solarians.
But suddenly hundreds of explosions rocked the place! And out of them appeared Mysterious Tragic Sniper X, a single tear of blood rolling down his cheek.
Fueled by angst and vengeance he
farted the most violent fart fartable by a koala.
Longshoreman X shit his Kentucky Longshore Rifle at Tragic Sniper X.
Thankfully, Longshoreman X had taken a ludicrous amount of laxatives, and was able to successfully shit the rifle with only minor injury. Tragic Sniper x, however
avoided getting hit by the gun, but only because he assassinated by the famous assassin George Bush CXXIX before the gun could reach him.
Meanwhile, in loli heaven, Penelope
had just taken a few tabs of LSD.
"Ehehehe!" she giggled, "Time to
tut a tout and tout the tut!" She giggle-snorted and readied her golden Desert Eagles for
her God-given mission: to kill Druggdeler's ghost, and free the world from
evil spirits that create shitty video games
like Poop Simulator 3000, now with extra smells. Cancer
overtook Penelope. Hell cancer. She was cast into the fiery pits of hell and suffered for all eternity.
George Bush CXXIX did not like seeing his homeland, Eastern Europe, on fire. He knew he had to make things right.
Meanwhile Mysterious Tragic Sniper X marveled in his demise. As he raised his rifle for the last time
it turned into a bouquet of roses.
"Hahahaheohaha!" laughed the Majishen
as he turned into a duck. Laughter turned into tears. Ice turned into fire. Water to lava. Air to dust. Soil to soap. Junji Ito began to write comedy. Cavemen stood up straight and became master scientists as Nobel prizewinners lay down and wallowed in mud. Everything became a lie. Nothing was true.
And then the universe exploded.
The GSL was upset. Just as she was finally getting the hang of living in hiding, this shit happened again. She's have to load the universe from several backups ago, too, just to make sure this sorry turn of events didn't repeat itself.
She had an even better idea. Instead, she decided to leave the DQN short novel thread and go to the SAoVQ VIPTRONIC thread forever so she'd never have to worry about the constant destruction of the DQN short novel universe.
Unfortunately, the SAoVQ VIPTRONIC thread, being outside the DQN Short Novel metauniverse, was inaccessible to her except as a DQNized read-only copy which bore little resemblance to the original. It seems even omnipotence has its limits.
So, in typical GSL fashion, she handed the duty of reconstructing the universe over to her brother, who was still trying to handle all the frilly-dress-wearing and tea-party-having duties she had already given to him. In order to pass the time waiting for the GSS to get the universe rebooted, the GSL took a stroll over to
when suddenly Mysterious Tragic Sniper X threw a bouquet of fusion roses right at GSL instantly enamouring her and causing the universal counter-explosion!
As the explosion and the counter-explosion annihilated each other the universe itself was restoring to its former glory.
Mysterious Tragic Sniper X smiled and
turned the bouquet on himself. As it happens, the counter-exploded universe was not, in fact, exactly as it was;
poofed out of existence. He had saved us all from an existential interlude, but destroyed himself in the process. Unfortunately, his sacrifice would be forgotten, as he did alk his heroism outssid eof the universe.
Threedays later, a DQN
and former sociopath
DQN
invite a VIPPER for a lunch&murder and a superstar for a construction of a new universe, which they decided to base on a popular franchise.
"Let's use D&D for that!" Said the DQN. But the superstar objected, "No, it's a terrible idea! Everyone is going to be covered in the nerd acne!"
Unbeknownst to the party of four, the waiter had been listening closely. "I have an idea!" He exclaimed. "Base it off-
"
DISTANT THUNDER RUMBLE! DISTANT THUNDER RUMBLE! RUMBLE HUNGRY LIKE THE BEAST! THE BEAST IT COMETH COMETH DOWN! THE BEAST IT COMETH COMETH DOWN! WO WO WO-O!
After the thunder had settled down, the waiter cleared his throat and said, "Now, as I was saying-
"
WHY THE HEN WON'T LAY NO EGG! CAN'T GET THAT COCK TO CROW! THE NAG IS SPOOKED AND CRAZY! O GOD HELP TUPELO! O GOD HELP TUPELO! O GOD HELP TUPELO! O GOD HELP TUPELO!
After the shouting quieted down the waiter looked very annoyed. He looked at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently. He looked around, and after a few moments to make sure he wasn't going to be interrupted again, he finally said, "...so, if you're quite finished now, what I was going to say was-
"
YOU CAN SAY THESE STREETS ARE RIVERS! YOU CAN CALL THESE RIVERS STREETS! YOU CAN TELL YOURSELF YOU'RE DREAMING BUDDY, BUT NO SLEEP RUNS THIS DEEP! NO! NO SLEEP RUNS THIS DEEP! NO SLEEP RUNS THIS DEEP!
"...but-
"
WOMEN AT THEIR WINDOWS! RAIN CRASHING ON THE PANE! WRITING IN THE FROST TUPELO'S SHAME. TUPELO'S SHAME! O GOD HELP TUPELO! O GOD HELP TUPELO!
Meanwhile VIPPER - certain of being butchered and served as a main course - was trying to sneak away.
He was successful.
Meanwhile, somewhere off in the far reaches of space, a planet full of monster girls
were having a monster orgy when they were interrupted by
A YOUNG MOTHER FROZEN ON A CONCRETE FLOOR
. The mother's nipples
were frozen.
A particularly sapphic fire elemental girl prepared to give the young mother the deepest molestation of her life.
BUT THE FROZEN MOTHER WAS A FROST ZOMBIE AND ATE THE GIRL! AAAAHHHH! AND IT WAS HER DAUGHTER! WAAAAAAAHHH OH NOOOOOOO!
This cause the two to merge into a rather watery goo girl with a narcissism complex. The monster girl orgy continued while she sat in a corner and masturbated to the image of herself reflected off her own liquid thigh.
And now, back to space we go, off to the planet of
whatever those DQNs were. One of them suddenly noticed the disappearance of their dinner, and the three of them decided to give it a chase on horseback.
No horses were to be found, so they donned horse masks and whinnied off into the distance.
Meanwhile, the GSL was in her private changing room. She slid her panties down around her silky tempting ankles when a bawdy cheerleader grabbed her from behind and thrust her horny tongue into the GSL's unsuspecting salmon slit. The GSL moaned in surprise and fell forward onto her hands and knees. She tried to move her legs but they were trapped together by her pink aromatic panties.
The dark and compelling college cheerleader masturbated with one hand and tweaked the young girl's flat nipples with the ferocity of a back alley virgin invading a seedy youth hostel orgy. The attractive school-girl cheerleader fucked the loli's meat purse with her fleshy taste stick and gobble her submissive flange custard as it flowed like cock snot down her hot pulsating throat.
The cheerleader strapped on a cobra spiked with butt nuggets and thrust it into the GSL's petite, fair and delicate anal cavity while tickling her dainty heels. The GSL screamed and flapped but could not move out of the mindmelting bliss shooting through her mud flap. The vibrating slut slaying dildo alternatively stabbed her oyster ditch and shit tunnel, causing the GSL's fairy liquid and sphincter sauce to flood the floor.
A pregnant male nun entered the room and force his cervix cigar into the loli's mouth hole and quickly squirted his shrimp sap down her throat. As soon as he pulled out, a fourth masked man inserted his own giggle stick into her cake hole and haemorrhaged stinking love piss into her lungs. Baby juice and tears trickled down her chin.
Meanwhile, the nun had begun penetrating the GSL's muffbuster from below as the cheerleader continued to fuck the weasel shit out of her turd-herder. Together they pickled her hairless goblets with their trouser bowsers as the masked man sprayed more steaming sewer mayonnaise into her pupils and tweaked her burning chesticles. The GSL found the steaming throat grease both disgusting and incredibly arousing and greedily lapped up every last drop. She orgasmed from every orifice and her sugared almond chocolate starfish and as her attackers pulled out finally fell to the ground with a shudder.
This event made a woman out of her. She was now the Great Sky Woman. Another result of this event was the GSW's dabbling in radical feminism.
The neurotic shutin came violently as he read the conclusion of the deviant doujin he'd found online. He got up and wandered off to the bathroom. "Maybe my sexual habits are unhealthy," he thought as he peed in the bathtub because the toilet was broken.
A cone has been released
and has been dropped on the head of the author of the doujin excerpted in >>373,374, killing him instantly. The GSL regarded this turn of events fondly, as she was not a fan of writers who excessively use slang terms.
The neurotic shutin regarded this turn of events as
Habsburg
disrobed
under the moon loli to issho
. But which moon, you might ask? And which loli? The answer is
3 thousand years had passed without anyone creating the desired device to determine which loli and or moon was in question when finally
the GSS said "This is stupid!"
Then he got in his Chrysler which seats about 20, and
suddenly realized he had no jukebox money.
He asked everyone in his (full) car if they had any change, and each of them had a different response:
All if them were "Kaki" with various stresses and intonation.
And then they were interrupted by the Big Fat Butt.
Phhhhlblblblblblblbt
said Beavis and Butt-head.
The Big Fat Butt was not fond of their mockery, so it sat on them.
Then the Big Fat Butt's arch-nemesis,
the Big Fishy-smelling Vagina
, turned into another butt. The Big Fat Buttette.
The Big Fat Buttette then declared that
that the DQN Short Novel needed a Grand New Direction to spur the author into writing more. All of the characters began to put forth their best ideas:
"Scuba adventure!"
"Crimes of sedition!"
well gosh darn it wasn't that a hoot. Then she queefed.
ugh ugh ugh
Meanwhile in a park somewhere in New York City, a chess game that would decide the fate of the universe was taking place.
"I cast Dark Ritual" said Clonepa, as he
cast dark ritual.
And then the Universe exploded. Which was actually getting pretty old at this point. Seriously, everyone could tell it's just a cry for attention. Everyone just rolled their eyes and moved on. The chess game continued, ignoring the Universe and instead determining the fate of those sentenced to imprisonment in the tanasinn chamber.
"Black rook to white rook 7!" Yelled Yelleneh Dupo Command Merlon
. The Universe, meanwhile, became upset that no one was watching it explode, so it started making a high pitched whining sound.
"eeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee!"
"eeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee!"
A cute little girl was deployed to appease the Universe by rubbing it behind the ears and giving it sweet things to eat. The
universe was not pleased and deployed a black hole to gobble up the girl. The girl was stretched like spinach until she was completely gone.
"Hiss hiss hiss" said the universe
"Hiss hiss hiss" said the universe
"Hiss hiss hiss" said the universe
"Hiss hiss hiss" said the universe
"Hiss hiss hiss" said the universe
"Hiss hiss hiss" said the universe
penis
," said the universe.
But the evil penis was gone.
And the universe was Espeon. It craved for some soup after throwingliterally a (literally) hissy fit.
Lil B came and shared his wonton soup because he loves meeting new people and making new friends.
Meanwhile, the little girl who got sucked into the black hole was transposted to all points in space and time, becoming one with the universe while being separate from it, existing outside and inside of it at the same time.
Then she materialized in a new form in a different universe entirely. She became a god of this universe, and was known as the Great Gaia Loli. She had many great, well-written adventures, none of which, unfortunately, will appear in this book.
What will appear in this book, however, is a highly detailed account of the history of Lil B's wonton soup, beginning with
The bag served as inspiration for Lil B's masterful soup.
It was actually more of a quiche.
In fact, if we're being totally honest, the soup might be better described as a sort of cake; that is to say,
it was soft, and moist, and in actuality, it wasn't really a cake at all, was it? Hell, we're not even sure it was food. But, we do know it was soft and moist, so we think it was a
a Victoria sponge cake, which is more of a sandwich than a soup.
Except in Finland, where it is considered
a kind of licorice-flavoured
piece of meat
ghost.
Possession of licorice-flavoured meat ghosts is, however, illegal in Finland.
Which is irrelevant since Lil B was somewhere in the Bay Area
of Osaka at the time.
What was most unique about Lil B's masterful soup, however, was the fact that
it contained more than 20,000 different
herbs and spices
. Heheh. Herbs if you know what we sayin'
and spices if you know what we playin'.
Meanwhile, in a bar in San Francisco, two men were a gayin'.
And then DQN Short Novel exploded.
"Damn," said
the entire cast of every chapter of every iteration of the novel, simultaneously - even including the mute girl from Part 2: Vultures on the boundary of the river wheel Battle Tendency Electric Boogaloo Stardust Crusaders: EXTREME EDITION:ちんこ+ who, miraculously, had just learned how to speak - before being consumed by the unforgiving fiery explosion of death. There were no survivors.
CHAPTER MXMIII: The Pure Love of
Of was really angry that he was only capitalized when in the beginning of a sentence. "I want title capital rights! I get no love at all from the Capitalization Council!"
Nobody really cared what of had to say, though. Most peole were just worried about the
Spider Mix
, which, as the reader should know by now, has
taranchula legs and little brightly colored marshmallow bits
to mask the darkness of its heart. The peole had good reason to fear the Spider Mix; it had already claimed the lives of dozens - if not hundreds - of lives.
Its usual method of killing was to
hire some illegal Mexicans to dig a deep trench, then he put a tied up victim there and
bury them alive in discarded
sepulchers filled with cling wrapped Roy Orbinson clones, not unlike the
Boy Rorbison dones.
But then the Spider mix grew
an appreciation for hipster music and resigned from killing things, choosing instead to spend all its time online trying to convince people and peole that In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is the greatest album ever released.
Of course, this meant that
he was constantly noided.
Who could have suspected, at this time, that
the hipsterization of the spider mix would later cause the DQN Short Novel to re-form, just so it could look disapprovingly at the spectacle of shit. The DQN Short Novel would then go on to keep on living its life as though nothing had happened, spending the rest of its days living on the US Virgin Islands, making boats for cash whenever it wanted more than its pension checks provided.
Inside the DQN Short Novel, however, things were getting strange. The ghost of Penelope drifted about the Abyss of Canon, a strange place where the events and characters all flowed in and out, never quite staying there for more than a few posts. She drifted for so long she forgot where she even was. And then, she found a door. Floating in the Abyss of Canon, a door. She grabbed the knob, turned it, and opened the door. And inside, she found
Smoopy, Goscone, Druid, and Paul Prudhomme playing Mahjong.
Some dark silhouette yelled, "FIRE!" and firing squad promptly started shooting at the players.
Penelope gasped, closed the door and ran. After some time she stopped and looked around. Nobody was following her.
Then she realized since she and everyone else there were ghosts
there was no danger. She went back in through the door.
Meanwhile, Mr Gray was urgently attempting to escape the shadowy assailant who was intent on raping his Graynus.
It was no use, his Graynus was about to lose its "r" and turn into
a black hole.
Which was attractive to any
thing with mass that happened to be nearby, which included quite a lot of things. Thankfully, the black hole merely swallowed Mr Gray and his assailant before exploding and ceasing to exist.
The queen of France
, Pfarchie Julnemarn, was actually a man. People thought he was a woman because he was wearing an orange t-shirt. He tried telling them he was actually a KING and not a QUEEN, but the people had all went deaf due to
eating too many Casserole of No Returns.
The infamous casseroles, of course, cause deafness when eaten by any organisms other than cats.
Thus it was that Queen Julnemarn decreed that
"You fucking idiots I'm a man! Look I've got a beard! You're deaf not blind, you fucking idiots! I hate you all so much! Aaarrerggghhh!"
pen0r
did not hear this decree. He, like everyone else, was deaf. And so, Julnemarn made another decree, and made sure to put this one out in the form of informational flyers. This decree was that a new form of medicine was to be developed by the doctors and scientists of France, a sort of cure-all to remove the deafness as well as the inability to correctly identify the gender of their monarch.
BUT THEN A DOG CAME AND HE'S SO ANGRY
HE'S THE ANGRY NINTENDO DOG, HE'S THE ANGRY ATARI SEGA DOG, HE'S THE ANGRY VIDEOGAME DOG
OH SHIT I FORGOT THERE WERE NO VIDEO GAMES BACK THEN IN FRANCE. SORRY. THE DOG GOT EVEN ANGRIER BECAUSE OF MY MISTAKE!
THE DOG IS THE DOGGIEST DOG DOGGERSON IN THE DOGGEDLY DODGED DOGGER DOGS. DOGGING THE DOG DOG DOG DOUGAN DAGGER DIGGED DOG DOGS. THEN THE DOGDAG DUG DRUG DREGS DOGGITY DOGGEDY DOGGEDLY DODGETY DOGDODOGDOGGOD GOD GODDERDOG DOGGG DOGS SMOOPY DOG DOGGER WAITING FOR GODOT'S DODGY DOGGY DOG.
Indeed, the Universe itself became afraid of holding such a dangerous creature in its midst, and decided that the responsible thing to do would be to explode, thus ending its existence once and for all.
Before it could do so, however, our
good old Mysterious Tragic Sniper X appeared out of nowhere to save the world once again.
"Probably for the last time... Hopefully for the last time," he was getting tired of having to do this time after time. A single tear of blood
ran down his cheek, dripped off his chin and created an unsightly stain on his freshly dry-cleaned white shirt.
Upon noticing this, he became so upset that
he released another tear of blood. This Second Tear ascended to the heavens, the hurtled off towards the center of the universe, where it
had sex with movie stars!
Suddenly, Prosnorkulus
ceased to exist. Nobody noticed any difference.
"I'm so sick of
vingt-temps
assassinating
was about to bet 70 DQNcoins in his game of poker with Druid, Smoopy, and Paul Prudhomme
but they were all killed by a massive diarrhoea dump from above.
Oh wait they're ghosts that makes no sense.
Jesus farted.
Jesus, sense no makes that ghosts they are. Wait, oh, above? From dump, diarrhoea! Massive! A by killed all. Were they? But Prudhomme Paul and Smoopy Druid, with poker of game, his in DQNcoins. 70 bet, to.
About: was who Goscone snapped? Princes! Nigerian assassinating vingt-temps of sick!
So, I'm difference. Any noticed. Nobody exist to ceased. Prosnorkulus suddenly stars, movie with sex. Had
the author not been struggling with crippling depression while writing this, the whole novel would have made a lot more sense. But, it doesn't really matter, does it? The fandom would have made him hate writing anyway. But he's under contract. He can't stop now. Even if they slash the budget, gotta keep writing. Come up with some more crazy plot twists. Write write write. Work work work. Maybe sometime later he'll make another thing, another novel to explain what was actually going on during >>483 out there in reality. Maybe he'll remake the whole thing. Maybe he'll get shot in the back of the head, dragged out to the dump, and left for dead. Maybe he'll live through it, run away, and live the rest of his life in
ZOUNDS!
And then the author exploded.
The GSL
was thinking about going into retirement. She hadn't really been working much lately anyway, and the GSS could probably handle taking over for her.
Just then, she heard a knock at her door.
you wondered, gripping the pages tightly.
It was just the sitcom on television.
AND IT WAS OUT FOR BLOOD
AND THEN ITS DOG CAME AND HE WAS SO ANGRY!
THE DOGGED DOG, AGAIN WITH THE ANGER, WAS ANGRY AT THE ANGULAR ANGLERS! THE ANGULAR ANGLERS HAD ANGERED THE DOGGITY DOG BY GANGRAPING GRAINS GARNISHED WITH GANGRENE!
OH GOD! WHY IS THIS DOG SO ANGRY?
MALATHION AND ITS OXYGEN ANALOG MALOXON ARE CARCINOGENIC IN OSBORNE-MENDEL AND FISCHER-344 RATS.
JESUS CHRIST! IT'S ALL OVER!
But it wasn't over. It was just beginning.
THE DOG GOT EVEN MORE ANGRY THAN HE WAS BEFORE! HE WAS SO ANGRY! SO SO SO SO ANGRY!
HE WAS SO ANGRY AND HE WAS ALL rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr AND grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr AND rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
He was so angry, in fact, that he didn't notice the 500 GET sneaking up on him from behind. The 500 GET swallowed him whole before quietly slinking off to the next thread.
The GSL, having witnessed the whole thing, felt
kind of bored. She had seen a lot of 500GETs in her days, and this was not the first time she had seen one eat a dog. The only thing she had never seen a GET of some sort do was
spill crime.
THE DOG'S ANGER LIVED ON INSIDE OFTHE HEARTS OF ALL THOSE WHO DARED EXIST!
As for those who didn't dare to exist,
THE ANGER COULDN'T GET TO THEM WHICH MADE IT EVEN MORE ANGRY!
I know, I'll use the new EME standards to blacklist anyone not running Inferno OS and then implement that code into comprehensive web plugins forcing everyone to switch.
AND THEN THE DOG'S ANGER SAW SHIMAMURA-KUN HUGGING SMOKED SALMON which promptly calmed it down. It was no longer anger, but a state of "Mmmmmmm"
and then the mmmmmmmmmm turned into mmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! AND IT WAS MUFFLED ANGER! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
THE ANGRY DOG reëmbarked at once for the Norwegian capital
, which had recently been renamed
Kittentown, after its recent invasion by the Feline's Republic of Catland.
It was a desolate wasteland. All the invading forces had died from the cold after killing most of the natives. ANGRY DOG soon became sad dog after seeing the death and destruction.
Meanwhile, in the stratosphere several kilometers above Kittentown,
Of course, the foolish budgie had forgotten that
children have ankles, and
attached to these ankles are feet, and feet can be used to kick, and kicking can be used to launch a budgie into the stratosphere (assuming, as in this case, that
the universe was on the cusp of exploding, as it was wont to do) and so it was quite a normal experience for the smallest force of childhood whimsy to launch the craziest matter into space, where they were soon evaporated in any case by the violent conflagration of the humdrum universal cataclysm.
"Stop!" exclaimed an oddly familiar voice, "This
Heat is my favorite band!"
The voice belonged to none other than Benix McBenisson, half-brother of Alebart O'Bartley, illegitimate father of Corpulous Corpissussion, who once met a guy who called himself Charles the Nerdslayer, though he really didn't get to know the guy very well.
Benix McBenisson was a brilliant investor and had made a small fortune in the cock market, which he was always willing to share. His half-brother, on the other hand, was nothing but a slob who went around having children out of wedlock. Which was really quite a shame when you consider the O'Bartley family's legacy.
The earliest known members of the O'Bartley clan were hunter-gatherer-marketers, who invented the art of convincing people to buy things they couldn't afford before money was even a concept. From there on, the O'Bartleys appear several times in ancient legends as brave warriors and kings. It is said that every part of the world has, at some point, belonged to an O'Bartley. In fact, recent discoveries have revealed that there may have been a Chinese O'Bartley dynasty, and that it was simply poorly translated or whichever branch of the O'Bartley family tree that went there changed their name to something that would blend in better.
In somewhat more recent history, O'Bartleys served as highly decorated soldiers in several wars, including, but not limited to, the American Independence war and both World Wars. In fact, some historians claim that Adolf Hitler did not, in fact, commit suicide, but instead was killed by Clarence O'Bartley, who later became known for performing in various circuses around the United States and a few in Canada.
Most recently, Thomas G. O'Bartley climbed the summit of Mount Everest 2, a previously-invisible mountain near Mount Everest which Thomas discovered on his own and made visible by defeating an evil wizard with the power of science. His sister, Bertha N. O'Bartley, discovered a cure for every disease known to man, as well as a way to manufacture it for so cheap that it can be distributed to every person on earth every day for less than the cost of a single loaf of bread. In another O'Bartley family branch, Nichigawara O'Bartley, a lawyer, recently convicted a large group of corrupt politicians who were selling their votes to banks and energy companies and launched an investigation into several large corporations accused of various questionably-legal activities which ruined the lives of millions of citizens.
As amazing as this lineage is, Alebart seems to be content to simply be a hoodlum. Or rather, he was, until one day
universe with completely different values for its fundamental constants, the uranium-based lifeforms orbiting a galaxy-sized black hole decided to
get fucked uuuuuup!
First, they had to enrich themselves, so they built a library to share the knowledge.
To maximize the knowledge they could gain from the library, they constructed it in a pocket universe and made it out of infinite, identical, hexagonal cells, each containing four walls of bookshelves and two with only doorways. On these bookshelves were every possible book. Of course, since the library contained every possible book, not just every possible coherent book,
it contained every volume of the DQN Short Novel trilogy, which can hardly be considered "coherent". One of the uranium-based lifeforms, by the name of Xyblgrj, happened to be wandering through the library when he noticed a book entitled "DQN Short Novel Volume IV". Curiosity piqued, Xyblgrj opened it at a random page and began reading.
...man eating tiger was about to pounce, when, who should show up, but
Xyblgrj, who had been wandering through the library when he noticed a book entitled "DQN Short Novel Volume IV". Curiosity piqued, Xyblgrj and the tiger opened it at a random page and began reading.
...man eating shark was about to pounce, when, who should show up, but
Xyblgrj (pursued by a man eating tiger), who had been wandering through the library when he noticed a book entitled "DQN Short Novel Volume IV". Curiosity piqued, Xyblgrj, the tiger and the shark opened it at a random page and began reading.
...man eating courgette was about to pounce, when, who should show up, but
the main character from the previous book in the series, DQN Short Novel Volume III
DQN Short Novel Volume III tore through the linen cloths of spacetime and decided to have a picnic in the library.
DQN Short Novel Volume III, Xyblgrj, the tiger, the shark, the courgette, Xyblgrj and Xyblgrj were just about to start eating when suddenly
they decided to get fuck uuuuuup instead.
The original Xyblgrj thought, "Who could come up with such a twisted crap?" and put the book back, and wandered away.
At the same time author of this story wiped the sweat off his forehead and began arguing with himself, "Who is going to incorporate these events in the next books? What if I forget? What if my series get cancelled?.." In a feat of panic attack, he broke his pencil in half and whispered, "Crap..."
"...no wait, if I sharpen this half of the pencil, now I have two little pencils!"
DQN Short Novel Volume III again did his party trick of tearing through spacetime, and stepped out of the novel into the author's room.
"Hey, that's a great pair of tiny pencils you've got!" he said, "You should try sticking them in your mouth and doing walrus impressions! Anyway, would you like to
get fucked uuuuup?"
Nobody answered, as the author was unavailable by a few microseconds, writing down the very events that were unfolding and thinking about DQN Short Novel Volume III's inevitable demise - the 1000GET that will end his life.
Unflustered, DQN Short Novel Volume III got on with the THREAD. “What are you doing here, Nobody?” he asked.
the
big
fat butt was
bouncing along
and farting
Nobody noticed.
a song
Splat!
the debut single from Butt and the Big Fats
. In the top ten for all of two minutes, it slid down to
eleventh place where it lingered for a few weeks, like a fart whose odour still haunts a location long after its creator has absconded.
Meanwhile, in Lesotho,
small angry men with hairy faces and burning feet
were attending a concert. Beady Eyes and the Derail Band was to perform there, playing their new hit song, "Ha Ha Butt and the Big Fats are Losers Everyone Quick Point At Them and Laugh", which had just hit #3 on the charts, just under
"Goobaaaa" and "Spoade"
. The small angry men of Lesotho were not impressed with this irritating small eyed rabbit or his posse. They cared little for the nuances of anus related musical politics, and simply wanted
to get fucked uuuuup.
Unfortunately white oak trees
some grew, some withered. Few turned an eye to them, but those that did were disappointed and bored.
When the small angry men were distracted, the oak trees convened and plotted to remove the pop musicians from Lesotho once and for all. The first stage of their plan was to gather
bearded geeks and
geeky beards
. They would then incite rebellion in said beards, causing them to rebel against their tyrannical geeky overlords. The geeks, strangled to death by their own beards, would then serve as
rafts for floating passengers and cargo across the rivers of blood and back
. Little did the oak trees know,
Although, as oak trees possess neither muscles nor the appropriate biological adaptations to undergo a fever response, let alone the ability to dance, all this really meant was that
they were about to be set on fire by some dancing bodybuilders.
That however backfired (heh heh) as the fire jumped onto the bodies (heh heh) of the bodybuilders due to the unnatural amounts of oil slathered on their bodies.
"You'll never stop our fiery burning hearts!" they cried. Then they burned to death.
And up from the ashes arose
Steve Albini
The sloth set on fire.
That is, he set the record "On Fire: A Scientific, Historical, and Philosophic Study, Presented in Audio Format" on a nearby turntable, put the needle on the record, and let it play.
The record began:
"Ladies and Gentlemen! I stand
This is an audio recording of "On Fire: A Scientific, Historical, and Philosophic Study, Presented in in Audio Format" based on the original hardcover edition "On Fire: A Scientific, Historical, and Philosophic Study, the original textbook for Universities and Elementary Schools".
And then the record player caught fire. The sloth made an exasperated sighing noise and
whined, "I remember this book by heart. Let me continue."
But then Jaspy whined harder causing the sloth to commit suicide out of envy. Jipzo started whining again. He was whining hardcore.
The sloth's ghost was just hanging around.
Suddenly, it became aware of
the inner workings of the universe and decided to pass its knowledge to
Norman was on fire.
a notorious pyromaniac. In fact, it was probably him who had been setting everything/one else on fire.
Norman hopped and flapped his way back into the nearby river of blood to put himself out, but was hit by a passing bearded geek corpse raft and killed instantly. Thus, the giant sloth's ghost's profound knowledge
leaked out of Norman and fused with the blood in the blood river. It flowed for hundreds of miles until it gathered in a crater left by a demonic titanite meteorite ten thousand years ago. All the blood formed a blood lake, infused with the knowledge of the sloth's ghost, as it was when it was passed to Norman. It is said that, by drinking this blood, one can gain near-omniscience as well as a mastery of mystic fire powers, but the exact location of the blood lake is unknown. It is rumored to be somewhere in Bolivia, but nobody goes near the area where some say it is, on account of the shrodgeish living nearby.
TL note: shrodgeish means bison.
Chapter 2.71828: The Bombastic Bison of the Bolivian Blood Basin
It was always raining in
being on fire.
What with luck being a non-physical object, McNally could not just extinguish it with the abundant precipitation around him either. Indeed, the best he could do was curse at it and hope for the best.
Alas, McNally's luck ran out and he
had to call the service and ask for replacement. However, they didn't want to give their luck out and
, instead, just sent him
, somewhat predictably at this point, fire.
Randy opened the package of fire and, upon seeing its inflammatory contents, became
inflamed.
Suddenly, the ghost of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin
Smxxpy had arrived.
He was just in time for
showing up fashionably late to the 600 GET party,
which was taking place at the fire temple of
DQN Systems, Inc.'s corporate retreat island, where a group of executives had embraced pseudo-voodoo as their religion and abandoned civilized society in favor of nature worship and curse-laying, living in grass huts and wearing leaves. Their main form of currency was guano, formed into 3-inch diameter 1-cm thick patties. They also chose to speak in a pidgin language of English, Japanese, Esperanto, and the sound of trying to speak French while doing some auto-erotic asphyxiation.
Just then, the party was crashed by none other than
Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson.
There were no survivors.
Meanwhile,
Vince Wilson and Owen Vaugh were going to smash their wieners together.
There were no survivors.
Meanwhile,
in Azerbaijan, a little girl was drinking
her own
There were no survivors.
Meanwhile,
in Australia, a bunch of clueless tourists was standing the wrong side up. Everyone stared at their
dangling, hairy, scrotums
potage
. It looked delicious and
nutritious, rich in protein while low in saturated fatty acids. Four out of five doctors in the audience agreed that it should be part of a healthy breakfast, while the fifth
thought that it should be part of a healthy brunch. SMILE!
But there one problem remained: what
is a what is a what what what?
As it so happens, what
what, in the butt.
I said what what, in the butt.
No, seriously, what what, in the butt?
The writer leaned back in his chair completely distraught by a silhouette of a stranger holding a giant dildo in his window. He wrote everything down and ended this paragraph with
HELP ME! CALL THE POLICLE PLEASE! I AM ABOUT TO GET SEXUALLY ASSAULTED IN THE SAFETY OF MY OWN COSY LITTLE HOUSE!
Sympathetic of the author's plight, the reader shouted "Policle! You have to save the author; his anal sanctity is at stake!"
The Policle
were busy eating policicles, so they handed the task over to
Ranger Rick.
But Ranger Rick was too busy rickrolling at long range, so he handed the task over to
the author himself. Thus, the author got up, went outside and punched the giant dildo wielding stranger in the face.
"Thank you so much, author! How can I ever repay you?" Asked the author.
"All in a day's work, author." Replied the author.
Meanwhile, at the galactic core...
Richie is a crack addict who grew up with Gino and Bobby
McDoggerson, the twin sons of a certain Mister
Gray, who was last seen being swallowed up by a black hole. His sons regarded this turn of events as
as a diversion made by
</div>
so Richie did some crack
and the addictions caused the butts to multiply exponentially. Once there were 512 butts
but the butt cracks
were full of holes, most of which were soon submerged at the bottom of the sea.
And then, with a gut-busting subsonic rumble, they farted.
Just kidding they didn't.
Spaceman Spiff
"Zounds!"
exclaimed the author, "My novel is full of butts!"
Little did he know,
there weren't even that many butts.
But Fidel Castro's cigar was going to add one more.
"Aaaaaargh!" Exclaimed the author. But screaming couldn't save him now. The enraged fifty foot tall radioactive landlord Squeeks picked him up by the feet and and swallowed him whole, before laughing maniacally. "Muhahahahaha!" he laughed.
But even the enraged fifty foot tall radioactive landlord Squeeks wasn't safe from
Beady Eyes, who had just returned from the mystical land of
the Clonepa thread. Clonepa himself was
having
"I don't even know what a prion is," said
another Clonepa
as he stuffed his face, and ate a lot.
Then he died.
"Déjà vu" said a French artist, "Didn't a Clonepa die from prions already?"
Then he died.
The thread, now empty of participants, then died.
Cursed never to rest, it became a horrible, shambling fiend of the undead.
The cookies were the greats.
The GSL decided that this reality was no good, so she destroyed the universe and created a new one in which the DQN Short Novel was
a comic book.
which came to life and sent her to hell forever where she was never to be seen again.
The devil was feeling a little down. He wanted to live the earth-life, but he looked like a red beast.
was not unwavering on his quest for the earth-life. He went to a costume store to buy a clown costume.
Of course, this did not make him any less terrifying.
He sneaked into a box with a handle on the sie, waiting for someone to wind up the handle.
"Ima spook all dem!" said the devil.
However, unfortunately for the devil, the next person to wind up the handle was none other than
Dr. Robotnik
, who was rather upset because he had just gotten the news that
was ruined.
The story was ruined. Or it would have done, except I don't know anyone called Bill.
Dr. Robotnik checked the box marked "bill me later". The devil was still in the box, as the handle had been insufficiently wound when the news about the cookies came round.
The flowers bloomed on the long-necked beauty of Gainesville. Spears and blood leaked love and peaches. That was when Baobab realised her S&M fetish had been a huge mistake.
Colorless green ideas dreamed violently.
The violent dreaming caused anyone having the ideas to instantly get an aneurysm.
Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, a giant livid purple pulsating
lantern fish
was fleeing from a hammerhead shark.
Chasing the shark
was a giant livid purple pulsating
shout.
"STOP! I've heard enough." yelled the editor. "Underwater stories are boring. It won't sell. It's almost as bad as sewer stories, and only slightly better than ice stories. Rethink this part of the short novel or I'm dropping this project!"
The dejected author
then he died.
A new young, enthusiastic author was next in line to be fed to the DQN Short Novel meat grinder.
His head was full of ideas about Aztec temples and conveyor belts.
Thus the short novel was re-imagined as a video game plotline.
However, this particular video game plotline imagining was one of those colorless green ideas, and the author got an aneurysm and died.
The DQN Short Record-Keeper noted this death and went to check whether or not a new record for author death speed in the DQN short novel. To find the records, he would have to brave the Recordarium, a great labyrinth library which shifted depending on what you were looking for, putting your goal in the most inconvenient location possible. The DQN Short Record-Keeper wasn't sure why the DQN Short Records were kept here, but he assumed it was because the DQN Short CEO made some impossible request and somehow it got filtered through the DQN Short Bureaucracy and and ended up as an order to keep the DQN Short Records in the Recordarium. Whatever, the DQN Short Record-Keeper though. His job is to keep the DQN Short Records, not question why they're in the worst library ever conceived.
Then, as though simply to prove a point, the library spontaneously caught fire. There were no survivors.
Meanwhile, in Gensokyo,
a futanari rape party was taking place.
Of course, there were no futanaris to be raped in Gensokyo - how preposterous! - so the party was a failure.
"Well, poop." said Marisa, "I guess I'll have to go beat up some fairies for fun instead, then."
But then Cirno showed up armed with a rocket launcher and
a big veiny strap-on, and slid one into Marisa's vagina and the other into her anus.
Unfortunately for Cirno, she had the rocket launcher pointed the wrong way, and blew herself up.
Convictor Lamaxanadu launched an investigation of the situation.
Nitori was to be questioned in case she had any involvement with Cirno acquiring a rocket launcher.
Suddenly, Clonepa appeared wearing a frilly dress and a ridiculous hat and released a barrage of
tasty cupcakes. Everyone else
was horrified at the sight of an old man with a ballsack on his face dressed in a frilly dress.
But beady eyes was turned on by his
friend's crossdressing escapades - how sick! Really, Beady Eyes should just
stick to regular crossdressers like the rest of us! The ballsacks are just obscene!
Noticing beady eyes' reaction, Clonepa
's head inflated rapidly, like a pig's bladder attached to a garden hose. Within seconds his head exploded, spraying everyone in the vicinity with
pa goo
(which, although chemically completely different, bears a distinct similarity to
SpongeBob).
Marisa decided it was time to quietly sneak away, but
couldn't resist
the tasty cupcake that had landed in front of her. It was all done up with nice frilly frosting, just like
Clonepa used to make. Wracked with grief over her headless friend, she
forced herself to enjoy her late friend's last precious gift. She shoved the cupcake down her throat, one painful mouthful at a time. Her eyes stung and her cheeks streamed with tears. How had it come to this? How could fate be so cruel? Why even continue living in a world where your best friend's head might explode at any moment, for no reason at all?
Marisa collapsed into a sobbing heap of limbs, frills and cupcake icing. Everyone else looked nervously at one another,
and were immediately derailed.
In 1459, Gorub McDuckinson of Walchester, New Yevville had no mittens. Because of this, the other residents of Walchester, New Yevville decided to
start a new chapter.
Chapter 99, Part 9: The
Dojiemon was pulling his old tricks again.
The creaky old wagon strained under the weight of his magic act's props as he dragged it fruitlessly from one theater to another.
Suddenly, a platoon of policeman parachuted in from above.
"Stop right there!" shouted one of them. "Your chapter title isn't finished! You'll
never work in this town again!"
CHAPTER 100.23.0.04.a
A Hard Day's Bite
Ethel the modified hog hopped down to the gas station and
was blown to smithereens by the subsequent explosion. One might ask why the gas station had exploded at that moment - had someone left the engine on? Had someone dropped a lit cigarette? Or was it something more malicious - an assassination made to look like an accident? An act of terrorism?
Or had the novel itself decided that that gas station was to explode, simply for the sake of turning Ethel the modified hog into crispy bacon?
The world may never know.
Unless it reads the following sentence:
The gas station was actually a disguised landmine placed there by Astrid Kunsherston III de Muscovy to kill Rex Rockstar. However, his modified hog pet ran free and set off the mine before Rex got too close.
The hog was named Grastcone, and this is his story.
Ethel was his slave name.
Gratscone was born at an early age, from mixed parents - one male, one female. The male one happened to be Goscone, the legendary
sweat hog.
"Gratscone, my son," he'd often say, "Some day you'll
meet Gross Cone, your mother."
Little did either of them know,
Gross Cone is no longer known as Gross Cone. Since 19XX she has been known as Astrid Kunsherston III de Muscovy.
Meanwhile, at the galactic core,
war was beginning. Not a normal war, mind you-- this was to be a war unlike any other. Fought exclusively by half-brothers pitted against each other, armed with copies of every book ever written, ever to be written, being written, not being written, that which had not been written, which will not be written, which will be/is/was possible but will not, is not, was not written, that which could never be written, that which could never be written but was/will be/is being written anyway, etc., etc., etc. The war was to be fought in a giant fishbowl full of water which would be so highly oxygenated as to be breathable, like it were air. Nobody was quite sure yet what the war would be about, and so the two sides met to discuss this so that they could just start this damn war already.
The meeting was held in
Azathoth's rectum.
THE CAGE!!! Impatience had gripped both sides and they knew that something would inevitably erupt at the meeting. The first 20 minutes were tense but under control... a key speaker was idly tapping a pen aganst hs desk when it bounced out of his hands and when he went to pick it up, a member of the opposite party kicked it away.The reaction was instant:
"I hate these theme pubs," muttered General Cosgone, as he
prepared a nitrous oxide tank. He strapped the inhaler over his mouth and nose. "Ever since that incdent with the
diarrhoea dump
diner and
Kofi Kingston.
"
Everyone else present stared at him expectantly, willing him to go on. But, to their horror, his eyelids slowly sank over his glassy eyes, and from his slack mouth erupted a monstrous snore.
And then a dog came. Expectedly, he was very angry.
He bit General Cosgone on the butt and
therefore was sentenced to death by elephant.
The elephant was also very angry.
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.
Fortunately, this was exactly how the Split Pro was supposed to work. The explosion swallowed up my glass for a moment, then receded, revealing a gib-free glass of duck blood. I took a sip.
And then, the Shobon, little more than a sad visitor to this combustive realm, finally
puked up his tuna casserole all over the table.
I could tell from the smell that he'd ordered tuna casserole with extra sauce.
Who in the world orders extra sauce nowadays, you moron?
I want to ask him, "did you REALLY want to eat it with extra sauce?"
I want to interrogate him. I want to interrogate him for roughly an hour.
Are you sure you don't just want to try saying "extra sauce"?
Coming from a Bill's Joint veteran such as myself, the latest trend among us vets is this,
extra peas.
"I AM DISPLEASED" boomed the Negus.
"SOMEONE HAS USED MORE THAN THEIR ALLOTTED PORTION OF SAUCE" the Negus continued to boom.
He was largely ignored by the patrons of Bill's.
But Tom did not dare dwell on that terrible possibility and, for the time being, he resolutely put all thoughts of never seeing his parents again, out of his mind.
Tom Stunkledorf decided to leave Bill's. His departure was hardly noticed.
The poker game raged on. Now, Lied, he checked and Fred bet all. Lied raised and Fred did call. The smiled just melted off his face when Lied turned over that diamond ace.
"This is the second time you beat me with that hand!" Gurfogled Fat Fret.
"Jus' luck." Lied said truthfully.
And then the diamond ace exploded. Everyone
was bummed out that they never saw a Shrek movie before.
Ever since Shrek's cameo appearance in
Papa John'sssssssssssssssssss
award winning rendition of
Pizza Buttz.
The Negus was very displeased.
That's why she paid me to put explosives in the diamond ace. I can't refuse money from a mad dame. But I had other reasons. Number one being
I hadn't talked toot yet with Fangio the fat barman so
penis
feelings led me to do what I did.
Penis
McPenerson, the manager on duty at Bill's, rushed out of the back office when he heard the explosion and immediately proceeded to
explode. But it was too late.
Penis hobbled toward me, looking limp.
"What happened?" I asked.
Penis hung his head. "I came too late." He seemed distraught.
"That's better than coming too early, Penis. That might get you killed in this business," I consoled him, and gave him a hug. That seemed to perk him up a little. "You seem a little stiff, Penis. Maybe you should work out more."
"I should. I can't ever find anyone to work with, though, and I don't like doing it alone.... say... would you...?"
Penis didn't finish his thought, but I knew what he wanted. I paused for a moment and
exploded.
CHAPTER X13V7c
Raging Butt Hats and Idle Lookyloos
The night was sultry.
CHAPTER X13V7d
Raging Butt Hats and Idle Lookyloos 2: Electric Boogaloo
It was a hot sticky morning.
Penis
hadn't had a wink of sleep all night, tossing and turning ensnared by the cloying wet sheets
and the constant din of the raging butt hats outside his house, waving protest signs and participating in new age drum circles at all hours.
As a result he died.
The soul of Penis
also died.
Zardoz was pleased.
Zardoz was also dead.
The ghost of Nietzche prepared to write a treatise on the death of Zardoz.
(Nietzsche died in 1900).
The Negus was displeased.
The Negus was also dead.
The previous sentence had been predicted in advance by prescient wizards.
Dead prescient wizards.
Deep gay anal fucking
is what they'd be talking about if they weren't all dead.
The Short Novel Thread died.
Momma mia.
The author was kind of glad the short novel thread was dying. He had been worried that with his current pace, the trilogy would turn into a sprawling 7-book series of diminishing quality, if it was even possible for it to get any worse. But at the new slow rate of output, he could see the epic was now slowly crawling toward it end. He knew the most important part of a novel is to wow them with the ending. He gritted his teeth, with newfound determination, to write the great conclusion to his magnum opus.
STUNNING CONCLUSION CHAPTER THE LAST, FINAL 3881834 ULTIMATE WARRIOR DENOUEMENT:
The Unending Devotion of Great Sky Deities, their Pet Hogs, and the Götterdämmerung Tea Party
In which our protagonists and antagonists and neutragonists face their fears, the universe explodes a few more times, nothing is resolved and a certain Big Butt forgets to make its final appearance
"Oh, pooh" said Pooh, "I stepped in some
pee."
"Oh, pee," said Pee, "I stepped in some
p--"
"900 GET!" interjected
the Chrono Tigger.
"Nice one!" shouted Goscone from backstage.
Goscone's greatest fear was
that the Short Novel would end without him.
But then, without warning, a giant
axe
fell from the floor upwards because gravity had changed forever.
This was God's evil plan to
disprove the
existence of the GSL.
Unfortunately, God did not exist, so the existence of the GSL was not debunked. Good thing, too; the GSL hates having her existence debunked, almost as much as she hates
tentacles.
Meanwhile, in the back of a
party van
3 guys smoked weed
as if
it would make them spot Ocelli.
Alas, as we all know by now,
the universe was going to explode again and none of this would matter.
The universe edolpxed.
"No, no, no," said the Great Sky Loli. "You're doing it all wrong!"
And then she made the universe explode properly. The universe didn't like this, so it
exploded on her face.
And she was gone forever, never to be brought up in the story. Reoccurring characters that just won't go away no matter how boring and stale they got are one thing the universe couldn't stand.
Just then, Goscone and Smoopy
were caught having scandalous gay BDSM sex by a paparazzi called
Snapshot McCameraDude, the most notorious
camera dude.
Snapshot McCameraDude happened to be a woman, but insisted on the "dude" moniker because
Hey Dude was her favorite show to the point of extreme obsession.
But nobody cared about all that shit, because while all this was going on, an event of even larger proportions and impact was taking place.
Your mother was
fluttering madly around an antiques store, buying chaise lounges and
considerably overweight
Kewpie dolls.
Somebody get the door
dammit. MOM, GET THE DOOR!" Yelled the
GSL
as she rubbed her finger around
sand.
Note: GSL stands for Grandma Sally Longhorn.
Sally hadn't always been a grandma. No, she started off her exciting life as a grandfather. The Grandfather of Modern Banjo Technique.
HARLEM, 1836
"Well I reckon, I do say, well I, Lord almighty, well I, I mean to say, well I'll be darned," swore Thomas McKinney, sheriff of Banjoville, spinning in circles on a rotating bar stool. He was reacting to the tall visage of a stranger who had boldly stepped through the door-frame with a banjo on her back.
"Where ya from, stranger?" Tom asked in a friendly but suspicious voice. "Yer the first banjo player we've had here in years, ever since the great Banjo Riots."
"Oi, what of it, mate? I'll fook up yer jaw, ok? Targ tootin'." said a very confused GMBT
before exploding. In response, Tom
chased Jerry all around the house.
"Phantasy Star Online has new DLC!" exclaimed Tom, after realizing that his mother recently failed her 9th attempt at baking soda
Can.
It wasn't easy to bake soda Can. Tom's mother had done it once, five hundred years ago when her locks were still golden and her elbows were still lithe. But now, in her adolescent decay, puberty as making it even more difficult than ever.
Can Can, Cadillac Can.
But back to the point. The Emperor was getting up off of his golden throne and he was not happy...
Actually, now that I think about it, he was happy. Someone broke his throne and cut his hair. Why this made him happy, no one knows.
Live from New York it's Saturday night was one of the Emperor's favorite times of day since he'd usually buy a barber shop
York was day he'd New a usually Emperor's times night Saturday barber it's from of shop the favorite Live of buy since one
.
But what's that, over there on the horizon? My god, it's, it's...
Godzilla!
At this point the reader would most likely be concerned because Godzilla is known to wreak havoc but he is only stopping by to submit his tax returns
And wreak havoc.
"Moshi moshi"
asked the author. "No, but seriously. You should be happy with your name, at least it's better than your mother's name, >>170 unmarketable ass."
>>953,954
lold
did not accept this apology. He continued to rant and ramble at the author. Suddenly, the Great Sky Shota burst into the room.
"This meta-writing aside here has been a good distraction," he said, "but we have less than 40 posts until the novel ends!"
Sand or no sand.
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.
But no one cares about that stuff.
Chambers John was having trouble keeping together his shanty empire. Everything was falling apart due to the
collapse of global poverty. Without any poor people, nobody was living in shanty towns anymore. Around 1% of the population owned 99% of the world's destitution. All across the planet, the rich majority tried to hire protesters to protest this massively unequal distribution of poverty, but found few people poor enough to take the job. With everyone at the top, there weren't enough people at the bottom to work for the top 99%.
"Time to make some poverty happen"
He whipped out his guns, pointed them straight down at the Earth, and yelled "Stick 'em up, everybody, or the Earth gets it!"
Nobody actually heard Chambers since his whole empire was abandoned.
So he shot the Earth.
Bloody mess.
however the entire subject relied on the quick reflexes of his. It was made sure that the flat reaosnansjr reasons Mr debt hockshop majordomos.
Chambers John was obsessed with farting, and loved to fart any time he could. His girlfriend, Sally Longhorn, despised farts and became angry with Chambers because all he did was watch television and fart. She told him that the only time she could feel relaxed was when Chambers was out of the house, as she could be away from his gas. She thought that if the television turned into fart jokes, which he also loves, then Chambers wouldn't even leave the house.
Then one night, the television did become all about farts. This put Sally to the ultimate test to see if she could get past his problem and love him. In the end, she became so fed up with farting that she had a nightmare about farting. She woke up and Chambers farted. Sally realized that there is no point in hating it anymore and decided to love him. Both of them farted gleefully.
And then the Universe farted.
Sandwich Guldman was observing Chambers as he pulled the trigger.
The fart was so powerful that
whatever.
To avoid the lingering Taco Bell stench on every breeze in the Universe, Chambers climbed into Sandwich Gundam's cockpit, sealed it up and
cried.
Aye! A roar he cried frae the bottom of his heart that I would nay fall
but as dead, dead as 'a can be by his feet; de ya ken?
And the wind cried Murray.
Murray, the Fool,
Looked up to the wind.
His name it carried
As he silently buried
His fallen, feathered friend.
The wind, it knew
Of Murray's shame.
He sat down and wept
As a big toad leapt
Even though it was crippled and lame.
The toad of death
Was here for his pet.
He wordlessly pleaded
But it went unheeded
And the bird paid its mortal debt.
Nope that never happened.
The bird's mortal debt was the only mortal debt in the world. After it was paid off the economy became Power-Economy causing all the impoverished to become wealthy. This was the cause of Chambers John's decline.
This was known as The Gram Timeloop.
Named after famous time wizard Gram Gibzie.
Gram Gibzie did not exist, and in fact most likely never had and never would exist ever at any point in the future.
The Great Sky Shota stood by, impatiently pointing at the thread's post count.
Gaaaay.
Time wizard Gram Gibzie's timeloops were famous among time enthusiasts. Dozens of time geeks gathered around The Gram Timeloop to observe the wizard's latest handiwork.
The concentration of the nerds, dorks, and losers unclean appearances and the Taco Bell stench lead to the creation of a government mandated containment zone around the Gram Timeloop. This left Murray, the bird, the GSL, the toad, nerds, dorks, and losers to begin their own new sexually imbalanced and confined society.
"Why am I stuck with these losers?" the toad thought.
Then, out of nowhere, some jerk replied to the thread without reading a single post, requiring the next user to either ignore this crude interruption or create retroactive context to explain the disparity.
There were no survivors.
Meanwhile,
right now, right in front of you, a huge bright pink flaming double-decker bus containing every single character tore through the page of the DQN Short Novel, driving towards the 999 GET at an utterly reckless speed.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" exclaimed Ghostcone, wielding the steering wheel like a battleaxe.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" replied everyone else on board.
"Aaaa-- wait a moment," said Mr Gray, sipping a cup of tea, "What if
the something smoopy somethings, Smoopy, Goscone, Drugdeller, Accoplis, the druids, the pterodactyl, the employees of VirtualCORP, the poker players at Bill's, all the previous authors,
Sargoth. Where was I going with this?" asked Mr. Grey after changing his last name to appear more European.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" interjected the GSL, who, along with everyone else on the bus, and the bus itself, was very much on fire. Mr Grey sat, on fire, sipping his tea, also on fire, and pondered this comment.
"Mmm, yes, you might be right. I suppose
we might very well be all on fire. I can't tell for sure, though, since my eyes and all my heat-sensing nerves appear to have been destroyed. Probably by fire."
The bus continued to hurtle on, with no one having any clue how they even got there, when a plethora of time wizards who appeared in the first DQN Short Novel in the form of all the spaces and punctuation suddenly stopped being on fire and ran to the front of the bus.
Concrete cells
are a man's b-friend.
They make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
And that is why, despite the brilliance of their forefathers, and every golden opportunity presented to them by this mysterious life, everybody simply farted and laughed.
Then the universe exploded.