Previously: http://4-ch.net/dqn/kareha.pl/1335873482/
Prologue: Mr Gray and his Exploding
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.