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Chapter Text

Chapter I: The Rise of Coda

Coda, a completely original character not based on anyone I ever met, was playing some sick scratch-lottery cards in her parking lot, under her A-Team Style Van. She knew better than to try doing it while running from them Crenshaw, since that’s how her old boyfriend, Ricky, was shot by the Crenshaw, a foolish gambit. Wiggling her butt in the air, grinding against the transmission of the A-Team colored Ford Econoline & blew her lips around like a mysterious duck “Oooooh yehh! I got another free ticket! ZIPZAP!” she chortled effusively.
Eons ago though, the Space Wizard Concern stroked their beards & threw them over their shoulders & were generally in complete agreement that shit was gonna be hella wack if they didn’t go about doing something about Beaglesaurus, the hottest new hero of the 1980’s! Beagle, they assumed, had eaten a magical amulet that he dropped in his grits. “I mean, shit, this guy is half-dinosaur or half-robot or some shit? Fuck! That’s some crazy shit right there!” they all agreed in unison as they turned off the disco & turned down for what.
Thus, they blasted all of their concentrated mystical energies into that one scratch-lottery ticket. Coda gasped & fucking scream, cause she scratched it for like $2 instead of fucking nothing, which is all you usually win with them! Scratching it as she was, she was imbued the mystical power of Vriska, the most powerful, explosive, controversial & sexual of the Homestucks. She threw her A-Team Van off of her with her newly robot arm & she was all like as “Sheeeeee-it! That’s some hot Snapple!” she exclaimed loudly. Around the corner, Beagle had just finished winning the Best Skateboarding Trophy for Best Skateboarding in a Supporting Role. Beagle totally beefed it though when caught shit of that Choice Ass with the robot arm & her half-blacked glasses.

“Ah shit, that’s some totes dope shit fam!” he blurted out as he blushed like a rad gangsta.
“Fucking Splash Mountain up in this house!” she shouted down from the heavens as she landed on Earth again once more. It created a huge crater that Beagle was like “And I thought I beefed it, fam!”

Chapter II: The Chapter Where Vriska Unbeefs it, Straight Up

Vriska tossed her crazy 8-sided dice into Beagle’s face & he be like “Ouch, fam. Shit, da fuck though even?” Beagle rolls his shoulders & start to waggle his eyebrows, unlocking the mystic words that released his true unburdened form, he uttered, “Tangy Mango Sump Pump Tango!” His body exploded into seven hundred billion resplendent rainbows, but soon got tired of that shit cause it’s hard to draw, describe or generally depict in a non-visual medium like a book (obvi) & became the much easier to render form of Beaglesaurus, powered by his robotic neo-Robot heart, pumping pure American Friendship through his veins.
Vriska’s hot roll of the dice thought was so tight as fuck though that the crater unbeefed itself & started to get actually pretty impressed. Beaglesaurus lifted up his sick, sweet shades & be like:

“That was hot wicked, fam!” as she drew her robotic hand across his techno-organic cheek.
“Whatcha saw about us having some of that hot smexual activitang?” she said provocatively before blowing a raspberry on his cheek. Beaglesaurus took the raspberry but violently kickflipped away as he beefed it once more, smashing a nearby Yugo in his neighbor’s yard. “PFFFT, naw, too yolo! Miss me widdat gayshit fam!” he said, blushing as he started spinning in place, his tail slowly giving him the confidence to teleport away. Vriska started eating huge handfuls of sand & threw a house at another house in her anger,

“What does that even mean! Yolo isn’t even a real word! Everyone knows you only live twice or so it seems! One life for yourself & one for your dreeeeeeeeeeeeams!”

Chapter 3: The Temple of the Left Eye

Beaglesaurus felt like a sugar-pie honeybunch, because he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t meant to call her out like a gnarly shooby, but he couldn’t tell her how he really felt! He knew it was Coda underneath that hot grey skin & sick-ass lookin’ horns. He knew that she still had feelings for him. Ever since the day she lost her brother in that accident, he’d been there for her, hanging out with her when since he first saw her crying on the street from the passenger seat of his brother’s funky Datsun. He had been like the brother that she had lost for all that time. He wanted to deny his feelings for her because of that, but he knew that he would feel that away about her all the time. How he couldn’t get her out of his head. But the rough test part was that he knew that she knew about how he felt about his own feelings! He knew she felt quite the same way. But with that sort of forwardness that she was suddenly exposing him to, he just couldn’t be honest with himself at this point. He broke down on his way through the dense jungles of Neo-Hampton, American Ontario, he soon arrived at the Temple of the Left Eye, behind the Wa-Wa. He knew that this was the only way to cure Vriska of the course that was making her this dangerous new emotionally-confrontational person he was mildly embarrassed about.

He approached the mighty idol of Lisa Lopes as he bowed before it, “Great L, I plead for you to be hella wicked wit dat magick, fam! I need it to help this girl back home start relaxing & quit making the mad hype like it’s Thirsty Thursdays, amirite?” The Idol lit up, her eyes flashing red like Olmec as he was like “Aww, shit, that’s too salty...” the Idol of the Left Eye spoke as the ancient statutes of T-Boz & Chili started to reveal themselves from Lake Erie & Victoria Falls together respectively.

“You will be judged according to your actions,” T-Boz told him.
“Have you been chasing waterfalls?” Left-Eye spoke next, “Have you stuck to the rivers & the lakes that you are used to?”
Chilli spoke of him, “But most importantly, are you going to have it your way or nothing at all?”

Beaglesaurus shrugged in a shrugful, non-commital way, “Fuck, I dunno… that shit seems pretty dope, I just wanna keep shit fresh tight! I mean, you don’t want shit being mad bogus? Don’t we all want the world to be piss-ass wicked?” he asks.

The three statues glared down at him as their eyes glowed red & like, fucking lasers shot out (shit was crazy, you had to be there, man.) Beaglesaurus took a shot in the arm, but luckily it only left like a really awesome scar, so it was like totally worth it, but he was like “Awww shit, sssssss” making that hissing sort of breath in when you beef it & your palms scrape on the sidewalk & they ain’t bleeding, but it’s like really white & you just sit there a bit like “hsssssss, fuck that hurts” even though you’re shit ain’t even thrown out like dat be. But anyways, statues were hella fucked on about him.

“You a scrub!” Left-Eye declared as T-Boz continued, “Also known as a Bustah!” The three statues moaned in unison, “No Scrubs. A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me.”

Beaglesaurus whipped his tail to swipe back his hair in a cool-ass move & lifted his sunglasses, “Say Whaaaaaaat?!” he said to the camera as the Statues spoke again, “First, you have hung out the passenger side,” said T-Boz. “Second, you have tried to holler at one,” Left-Eye continued. “Third, she don’t want your number. She don’t want to give you hers,” Chilli finished.

Beaglesaurus ollied his way up their arms & did a sick 360 nosegrind along the heads of all three statues as their mouths dropped open like “Daaaaaaaaaamn, slun!” as they crumbled into dust. The dust was like “That was some sick-ass moves" & they dropped the perfect-ass Ruby of the TLC. This shit will fix yo girl. She ain’t gonna be givin’ you dat beef on what it is!”

Chapter IV: The Final Conclusion

Beaglesaurus did a sick manual all the way back to his family home in Neo-Oakland, & kickflipped his way back to Coda’s house. Along the streets, demons were just like, fucking everywhere. Shit was just lousy with demons, like straight fucked, for real. Upon a huge ass mountain of people bones & human skulls, Vriska sat atop a throne covered in blood, but she didn’t look like she was really invested in it.

“Fuck, this is kinda gross. I mean, it’s like really fucking sticky. I mean, I know blood’s sticky, but like, I didn’t think it would be like a fucking theatre floor, dumbasses be dropping Cherry Coke all over the floor, shit!”

The demons nodded like they were saying, “Yeah, I been here,” as one of them straight up like, “Yeah, I been there. Gross...” Vriska waved her hand as the demons started up another hot dance party as she threw her dice on the floor again. They rolled full 8s again as the Earth cracked open & a huge lava monsters came out & looked like super-pumped.

“Ah shit! Yeah, I know! Ain’t this some shit! I’m like made of lava! I mean, ya don’t see that shit everyday, do ya?” Beaglesaurus landed his orbital kickflip as he flipped onto his hands & then back forward onto his feet, using his tail like a mustache.

“Yeah… that’s actually pretty fucking cool. It’s even kinda unique, if you think about it,” he said, intensely. The lava monster took this as deprecating sarcasm & his buzz was totally like legit harshed. “Well shit, ya gotta be like that about it...” the lava monster said as he just closed the big crack in the earth, “Man don’t gotta be a dick about it, jeez...”

Beaglesaurus ollied the skull mountain & knocked it over as he did a sick triple grind along the arms & back of the throne, despite it having a really intricate top on the back. Shit was like real swirly & evil-looking, trust me. The blood all chipped off the throne as Vriska reached out her robot hand & kissed him gently on the lips brutally.

“Like when did you even manage this shit? I was gone for like… what 8 minutes? Shit, girl be working when the Sun on the ground, damn!” he stopped, his dinosaur-lips quivering in pleasure as they started to turn red-hot & wistful in their whimsy w/ lust & apprehension. Steeling all of his resolve, he pulls away & whipped his tail back into a mustache, “Wait, fam! I n-need to letcha get the hot word from your maintown homeboy!” he stated eloquently. She let him go & then grabbed his shirt, lifting him off the throne & the edge of the building it was on (cause it was on top a building, obvi).

“What up?” she asked curtly. “Bae, I know that you been like fam since shit was mad whack. I been there for ya from whack to harshin’ to legit & even when shit got crackalackin or not even dishing out like a total turkey if shit was ending up mad stank! I just wanna let you hear bae… that I think you be dynamite-hotness & I just wanna get all up in the bidness of your heart. But this ain’t you! I mean, that shit’s only worth like $2, I could just give you that much!”

Vriska dropped the scratch-off ticket as it flew out into the wind. Eons ago, the Space Wizard Concern were all like “Shit, that didn’t work. Guess we’ll have to wait for the sequel, lol, didn’t seee that shit coming! Fuck, we’re bad at this shit, huh?”

Back in the present though, Beaglesaurus started to eat through his flesh to reveal his dope-ass inner core of Beagle, who picked up Coda, spinning her into a mad tight amount of smoochability. Even when the bees showed up, Beagle just danced his magical crab dance & the bees, started moving… with it, like in Thriller when all the zombies just kinda get in on that shit, you know. That evening, Coda & Beagle were mad totes engaged, fam, & they were super-double planned for getting hitched and it was definitely totally going to happen.

Chapter Text

Beaglesaurus v. Vriska Deux: The Return of Mechagodzilla?

Chapter I -- The Flaccid Diamond

Despite the ensuing return of Mechagodzilla from his recent circumnavigational tour, Beagle just couldn’t stop rapping to his sick beats. He had become so enamored by his old friend Mechagodzilla’s hot-nasty skills on the oboe so much that he was almost getting a bit of a half-club? With his iPod Nano on, he did a sick-wicked 360 manual nosegrind along the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge, heading back home to his old hometown of Oakland, Neo-California. Things had been testy with Coda ever since she changed her name & moved to the Moon to rediscover who she “really was.” It had been a mutual thing… but had it? I mean, he could see her at any time on a Discord call, but that was like… something you had to plan for & Beagle just wasn’t invested in that yet. Mechagodzilla patted him on the back before he got back in his painted wizard-van & took a titanic rip off his vape-rig. “That was pretty damn cool of you to give us a ride. I didn’t even know dinosaurs could drive, since I’m not a real dinosaur, but in fact an alien-manufactured robot posing as America’s Favorite Dinosaur!” Beagle gave him a soft, knowing nod tipped his cowboy hat to him, “Oh, I know. It’s okay… I don’t know how to drive either.” Mechagodzilla was so stunned by this sudden realization that he crashed his wizard-van into a chestnut tree, breaking his arm, “Ah snap! Now who’s going to do the Charity Ball? You really fucked me over this time, Beagle!” he spouted emphatically as his arm started whipping around in a mechanical Catherine’s Wheel. Beagle merely smirked. He knew that Mechagodzilla would just buy another one & he wouldn’t get that depressed about it later. Beagle kickflipped the hot shit back across the skinny, not noticing a pair of amber-gold eyes watching him from a patch of poison ivy. Despite her poor choice of hiding place, Mei swore incredibly loudly (to the point where basically anyone could hear her) about her deep, intimate love for Beagle, tearing open her “I ❤ Robo” tee, revealing under it was a “I #HankeringAuberine Beaglesaurus 100%” tee instead. She started screaming as she ran down the street, though naturally Beagle didn’t notice her; he was too busy thinking about the true meaning of Arbor Day & why the Arbor Day Giraffe hadn’t arrived in his home province yet! Lightyears away, the King of Cybertron, Tarkus Tercel, ate a sandwich & was kinda just relaxing. He wasn’t really invested in invading Earth. Earth was like legit hot bae at the time & he wasn’t about to get going all too wizzle-wazzle on that tippy-tang. Yet. Emerging from a mailbox near though, an Ancient Hermit stood carefully. He held out the Flaccid Diamond to his eye as he stared through it, his vision increased eight-fold to see the dark mysteries of the world about him. Then some jerk just sort of smacked it out of his hand & tied his beard to a dog’s head. “More like #epicfrail!” he said as the Jerk started swigging his swagger on over to Mei, “Oh shit, it’s TV’s Mei! I saw you on TV!” Mei be all like, “Whatever, that was the cheap shit, I just set those world records to get Bagel’s attention, slut” & kicked him in the shin. The Jerk fell over & started gushing out blood, since appropriately, Mei did hold the world record for Most People Kicked in the Shin in 12 Minutes with a whopping 73 in a row, so it kinda made sense after all. It didn’t help either that he was really nonmoisturized. “Ah fuck!” he cried as he started to eat a handful of grass & dirt from a nearby yard, “Look skank, I got magic shit. I’ll trade you this if you help me do something that’s like super fucked-up evil.” Mei thought for a minute & was straight up like “Hmmm, I could get on top of that shit.” The schemes grew tight as they were dank as the cahoots just started…

Chapter (...fuck, was it 2?) -- The Bae Straight Crae

“And that’s why his choice ass is just like cash!” Mei said, finishing her own personal, in-depth research conference call presentation on why Beagle was the best man in the tri-state area. The Jerk clapped & released a soft honking noise. Mei thought that shit was pretty damn suspicious, but overlooked it. She needed the Flaccid Diamond to win Beagle’s heart, “So who like even are you, are you like trying to hit on me or some shit?”

The Jerk made a confused face & ate one of his shoes as he shrugged like a dipshit, “Fuck man, I dunno. My name is Janus Friis, you may remember me from being the man who created a little thing called Kazaa?” he said, as if that was impressive. Mei looked behind her, “The fuck’s a Kazaa? Is that the video where that blond kid wants to teach you to play an instrument?”

Janus Friis froze & angrily swiped left on his phone, “That’s pretty #humblebrag!” he groaned quietly, “I also invented Skype & that’s what I need your help wit, slun! Ya see, after Discord proved that Skype was both inferior, busted as a nut, & like made of scorpions & shit, I killed my business partner & ate his heart to absorb his powers. It turns out making shitty web companies wasn’t a very good power, so I punched an old guy. With this magic, you can destroy Discord forever & destroy Beagle as well!”

Mei be like “Da FUCK you talkin’ about?! I need that slippery boi on this bod like I need insulin to regulate my body’s sugar-intake!” she shouted in his ear. Bleeding from the ear, Janus fell over & honked again as Mei just like… took the Flaccid Diamond from him, “Don’t be frontin’ like a player! You ain’t getting none a’ this booty, cause compared to Beagle, you just a goofball lower than a water-flea!”

Swallowing the Diamond cause she didn’t know how that shit works, Mei assumed a form that Beagle was mysteriously disturbed by the most, the avatar of the Most Powerful, Explosive, Controversial & Sexual of the Homestucks: Vriska Serket! As her skin turned a dark, dismal grey & her teeth grew into sharp yellowed fangs, her horns sprouted from her skull.

“Fuck, this is like a shitload more painful than I thought. Ah, piss!” she exclaimed emphatically.

Her arm just kinda fell off & she was like “This might’ve been a poor decision, shiiiiiiiiiiiit” as a robot arm grew in its place. Her trendy clothes were replaced by different trendy clothes as the glasses started to emerge from her eyes, one of them being like basically fucked now. This was probably not a good idea.

“Ah fuck, Beagle I #cryeverytime!” she grunted as she started hunting for fresh blood, the only thing a Vriska can truly be sated by.

Meanwhile, Tarkus was like pretty much not even in the story. He was like not committing to the part, the fuck? Ok, I think he might have just left by now. Fucking A. On the other side of Oakland, Beagle was training his soul by unleashing the bag that Mechagodzilla gave him in the light-novel prequel soon to be unleashed on HD-DVD from your local grocer’s freezer! He smelled the sweet, baked-cherry pie flavor of the ultimate substance: Weed 2: The Sequel to Weed created by Mechagodzilla one day cause he was kinda bored. Weed 2 had all the favorite things you knew about weed, like getting you mad stoked about shit that was like chill & really thought about stuff, ya know? However, Weed 2 also had significant improvements on the original, like not smelling fucking horrible all the time & not making you like too hungry (Like you’d probably only eat like half a sleeve of Oreos, so I mean that’s a plus) & if you thought up some dumb shit, when you came down, it was actually pretty still cool though. Beagle knew that drugs were “bad,” but the dark temptations in his soul drove him to internal conflict. Could he ever truly be happy without Coda? Could he ever really learn to love again if it meant that he could get hurt? Beagle toked up on that hella-tight ganja & unlocked… his Final Form…

Chapter 3 -- Beagle in the Meme Kingdom

After taking the Weed 2, Beagle’s neo-robot heart was activated, transforming into the hero of all things dope-nasty & Archduke of the Skate Park: Beaglesaurus. However, his evolution in crazy kickflips only ascended further with this new development, altering his chemical DNA hormones until he achieved the Truest Level of Friendship. He had become: “Beaglesaurus Rex.” But, cause shit was getting mad flipped, he found that his mind had teleported to a distant kingdom, populated by small clicking red monsters & people who made pretty bad decisions a lot. Atop the highest mountain in the land, the Meme King stood aloft his throne & used his powerful Staff of Dank to toss an inert white goop onto the face of a commoner, “Looks like he’s got cum on his face, lol!” & the realm loled for like a few good minutes. It was kinda a thing where you had to be there. Approaching the mountain throne, Beaglesaurus Rex took to one knee cause he saw that in a movie or some shit. The Meme King took off his helmet, revealing himself to be Basketball Legend Charles Wade “The Round Mound of Rebound” Barkley, who threw a glove at his head, “Quit that shit or you’ll be banished to a shitty commercial.” Beaglesaurus Rex quit that shit faster than Brad quit that Jennifer… the eighth time, amirite?

Back on Earth, Beaglesaurus Rex had just ended up falling over, crushing some guy’s car & probably some local children or some shit, fuck I wasn’t paying attention. Mei, though, didn’t recognize this hot, smexy new form & walked right on by, throwing a huge-ass trident into a car.

“Where the fuck he AT?” she asked as Janus tried to catch up with her.

It was clear that this shit wasn’t going to fly as he clutched his stomach, “Ah shit, girl, I told you! He doesn’t live here anymore, he moved across the street into Coda’s old house!”

Mei heard the name & screeched out a phenomenally loud REEEEE to the heavens & the gods were like “Shit girl, cool off!” She picked up the corner of Beagle’s House & started throwing her magic dice under it. They all landed on 8 (cause that’s how that shit go) & the House turned into a Sexy House-Girl. That was pretty much the unluckiest thing that could happen as Mei’s Trident flew back to her hand.

“What is this baka gaijin doing to my Beagle? You’re trying to get into his pants, slut! How dare you!” she asked impleasantly, proceeding to have stabbed House-chan with her Trident.

King Charles of Memes looked upon B-Rex as he took a hot rip of that Weed 2 himself & was like “You’ve achieved… Ultimate Dankage… But this isn’t Weed 2: The Sequel to Weed, Beagle! You done fucked it all up hella supreme now! This is turrible!” B-Rex was shocked, mostly cause he didn’t tell him his name (was he like watching him or some shit?) It turned out, Barkley took his wallet, but he didn’t know that shit until it was too late. Charles took all his Yogurt King punchcards, so he was gonna have a fuckton of yogurt drinks on B-Rex’s sick dime.

“This isn’t even Weed 2 at all, this isn’t even regular weed. This is just oregano & like… pencil shavings, slun,” he said as he made that ass clap & threw it in a circle, “Mechagodzilla must have put so much Friendship Aegis into this fake-ass weed though… that it helped you achieve your Final Form!”

B-Rex gasped, “Fuck! I paid him like $80 for this shit! And since inflation hasn’t changed since around 2019, that’s still a lot of money!”

Chapter 4 -- The Death of House-Chan

House-chan was like totally fucking dead & Vriska was like kinda like “Step off though” as Janus arrived behind her, cackling as he took her Trident.

“Ha! I fooled you all along!” Vriska didn’t even listen & just like, yanked it out of his weasely, sweaty bitch of a grasp & stabbed him in the stomach, “You still there, cumrag? No means no, get your $3 Scooby Snack, 2+2 not knowing what it is ass off a’ me!”

Janus was seriously injured by this (because I mean, shit, that’ll pretty much injure anything. That’s how stomachs work.) Janus’ body suddenly opened up as the top fell off, revealing that “Janus Friis” was a robot, piloted by a Canadian Goose, the terrifying & evil of all gooses. Goose Friis honked angrily & pointed a wing at Vriska.

“You’ve gone too far now, this top-nasty hot fluff costs a lot of money & I lost all my money because Discord is better than Skype! I mean, fuck, it doesn’t even connect half the time & dropped calls are at an all-time high!” he complained. Vriska threw the dice at him & they glowed… ominously.

Back in the Meme Kingdom, Beaglesaurus Rex realized how he could leave the magical distant planet. He thought deeply on the word of King Barkley & realized that he also could throw that ass… in a circle! As he did, his tail began to spin like a helicopter & started to pilot him back to Earth. Truly, the Memes had taught us all something about ourselves. Arriving back on Earth, his mind returned to his techno-organic body & he woke up & wiped what he presumed was strawberry jam off of his techno-organic face (I mean who even leaves like a pallet of strawberry jam on the sidewalk, seriously?) Vriska stood atop the defeated form of Goose Friis as he had been turned into a Bufflehead, the smallest & weakest of all of Canada’s ducks.

“He can never hurt the world again with shitty programs that seem like a virus if they certainly aren’t already!” B-Rex nodded sagely like a sage would.

“Ya know, Vriska, you’re all right after all...” he said with a nod.

It was at about this time that House-chan reached out & shoved a support beam into Vriska’s stomach & the tragic finale full of melodrama & sadness started getting it’s nasty funk on (cause shit’s rough like that sometimes.) House-chan breathed her final words: “I’ll always miss you… Beagle… I always wanted to get that shit hot like Splash Mountain… but I was always a House until right now...” House-chan made a disgusting noise that makes it pretty clear that you died & then she died, turning into a huge pile of rubble. B-Rex was like:

“What even? I didn’t sketch you was jelly, fam! House-chan! You were the only fam I ever had ever my fam died in that horrible industrial fan accident!” he said, hugging a broken cinderlock to his techno-organic pectorals. Vriska coughed up like a lot of blood, but it was like a weird teal color, cause it was from Vriska as Vriska picked up Vriska’s Trident & lifted up high in an upward way. Lightning struck it & she returned to her normal form as Mei, though this had surely not fixed her whole sort of unsolved “fucked-up stomach” problem as B-Rex ran to her, lifting her in his tiny dinosaur arms.

“Mei! How could I forget you! You were always there for me, slightly behind Coda! I was always ignoring you, but only because I thought you clingy… obsessive… a little creepy… kind of annoying… and you kept trying to steal my socks! Can you ever forgive… meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?! I’ll love you five-ever… you and me… bae!” he whispered in her ear swiftly as he threw that ass once more in a circle again. “I know who is behind this… And she will pay! I know this was all the work of… Adeen! Adeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!!” he screeched as he flew into space to hunt down the Space Queen of the Alien Space People. He knew that he must get her to die if he was going to get his revenge, even if he had to die trying!

Beaglesaurus Will Return in Counterattack: Beaglesaurus

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The One Where Beagle Has a Gun

As Beagle walked out into the rain, slipping on his fish-shaped shoes, he started flapping his trench-coat open & shut, a tactic he learned from the ancient legends of the sea flap-flaps, aka the devilfish aka just a manta ray he saw on Eyewitness Home Video once. He had to get his revenge. He had to start… his counterattack as he started to grunt into his explosively hot pink gas-mask. It had been only twelve week since Mei had destroyed the Moon in a jealous rage (or so the papers had said) created Old Moon & Moon 2: The Revenge, a second moon known for being smaller & cuter. The weebs had given it the true name though… the name of “the Moon–imōto.” Mei’s Vriska powers had faded soon after & she'd sealed herself in a huge crystalline Twinkie, landing in the middle of the African Serengeti. Beagle prepared his two guns, having trained them to be deadly weapons through the deadly art of playing three days straight of Shadow the Hedgehog 2: The One Where He Has Two Guns, the life-changing Christian sequel to the first, original game in the series.

Beagle flapped faster as he squealed out to Africa, landing on the back of a majestic giraffe. He had been training for seven entire minutes to speak to giraffes & ended up embarrassing himself by asking the giraffe where he put his butt-medicine & why he can’t eat cats for snacks. The Giraffe whipped his neck violently at Beagle, injuring him in a grievously grievous manner. He wouldn’t return to Africa for 27 entire days, tracking down the Giraffe & apologizing softly by hanging a basket of delicate Valencia oranges in a tree. The Giraffe politely accepted & swished his HOT Giraffe can in Beagle’s face. Beagle grimaced visibly & tried his contain his unbridled arousal

“Oooooh-wee! That’s pretty tight in the night, but I can’t say it’s right, fam!” Beagle said, his newest catch-phrase as he starts to kick down the door to the African hideout. Within, a group of warlords were eating some delicate sesame cakes & enjoying a midday tea. Beagles’s first reign of tarot was going to start hear. He knew that these warlords were the one who started the butt-chugging craze that was sweeping the nation anew & knew they had to be stopped. Unleashing a hail of gunfire into the warlords, they died very quickly, saying in unison, “Like fuck man. That really is an interesting opinion you have & we shouldn’t have been so quick to write off the capacity of the youth to endanger themselves. We have learned our lesson, that’s for sure! OH FUCK, THAT HURTS!” they said & then died though.

Chapter 2: The Chapter Where Beagle Doesn't Use a Gun, But Has One

“Those African vodka-kings were really dicking my nut! This jank is mad hella pisser, fam!” he thought, out loud, screaming at the top of his lungs to the city.

Neo-Oakland had never been the same since the Moonfall Incident, wherein pieces of Old Moon had fallen on it & kinda made a pretty loud din & a rather bad mess of things before they managed it back in the sky again. Most citizens were mostly surprised how Retro-Angeles was able to survive unscathed, but those arguments were erased with the offer of free ice-cream. Beagle put away his BIG GUN & opened another Drumstick, part of the lifetime supply every Neo-Oakland survivor received as he moaned into his own mouth.

“I like the ‘Butter Pecan’ ones. That delicate nug of hot butter in the center is so PACKED with flavor!” he screamed, “It’s what makes my day complete!”

He smorked out the door & started flapping into the sky again with his magnificent trench-coat, cooing softly like a street-pigeon to make his perfect disguise complete once more.

Landing on the roof of Gotham City PD, NJ, he started cringing, cause he totally beefed it hot onto the gravelly rooftop.

“Fuck! Rooftops suck ass! This is worse than remarkable money scam Jack & Jill… BY ADAM SANDLER! This is taking the flip out of my skinny kick, fam~! I’m pretty gosh-darned miffed!”

On the roof, his contact, Delete (aka “Delly the Bird,” one of his closest friends from the Clown Academy,) gave him a bag of rubber chiciekns.

“This isn’t very funny, yeah?” she told Beagle as he gripped his entirely techno-organic chest. Beagle lifted all of his arms to the sky & flailed them about in a round, flailsome motion.

“My Neo-Robot Heart betrays me forever still! I have to have it removed by a special doctor or else it won’t be special anymore! It’ll become a regular heart!” he said as he gave the Bird a hard tap on her right ankle, “Shit fam! You’re the only Big Bird on my Sesame Street.”
Delly put out her candy cigarette against her shoe & then threw it off the roof, “It’s raining men out here,” she groaned as she started eating a large purple fruit, “Sometimes you just have to know when the Weather Girls are right.”

Beagle whined out in a high-pitched squeak & whipped his hands into both of his techno-organic pockets & started flapping again into the sky!

“NO! Beagle! You can’t just try to dinosaur all your problems away! They won’t bring her back! All you’ll end up doing is ending up smuggling plums like a taupe… tango!” Delly cried, yet unheard.

Chapter 3: The Fam Resurrection, Like Shee-It Slun!

Beagle started hooting as he flap-flapped into the night, the sun rising in the distance as he made a loud, grunting thrust into the sky, “HOOT!” he hooted as the hoot spurted from his lips. He landed on a distant pyramid out in the distant distance.

“This is the only way! I need to do this… to restore my family’s honor! Even if they always thought I was a hero! … Even if they became some kind of gross zombie-chicks, it’ll still make me feel better than knowing that they’re both inexplicably & suddenly gone… forever!” he blarted.

The Scientist Guild put their heads together & tugged on their gloves & poked stuff & adjusted things, using tools & equipment & adjustments & science until the two recovered sets of remains were fused into one supreme being. Pushing on both of his pectoral nipples, he drew small semicircles under each one, unlocking his chest-panel of his techno-organic chest and accessing his Neo-Robot Heart, deadly radiation flooding the room. The Scientist Guild had been wearing Hazmat suits (except for Jerry. Fuck, Jerry, that was a bad idea. I mean, I know it’s supposed to be “Casual Friday,” but this some important shit, bra!)

As the new form was struck by his unstoppable & seemingly non-carcinogenic Friendship Radiation of his Neo-Robot Heart, she stood up from the table, her wounds healing together as she opened both of her eyes.

“B-Beagle?” she managed out in both of her now combined voices.

“That’s right Mei! That’s right, Aria! Or should I say… Armeia?!” Beagle said as if this was, like, a question. Or if this name wasn’t also the fucking worst. (I mean, he could’ve like dropped that heavy shit a lot easier on them.)

They both screamed inside his entire face as they saw his chest was open & he blushes like really red-colored & was totally like:

“Snip-snap fam! Didn’t mean you let you get your scope on my metal-ass aortic pumps, grrrrrrl!” he said as he rotated his nipples again, returning his chest to normal.

“But why are we like one person now?” she asked as her body naturally started snapping into crazy JoJo poses.

“Oh schnappes, grl, was that a fucking JoJo Reference?!” he asked.
“FRNNNNNNTLLLL” she said as she groaned between both of the jaws where her teeth lived, “Yeah probably, why is this shit happening again?” she asked.

“Well fam...” Beagle started, “In order to resurrect you both, I had to make… The Ultimate Sacrifice!”

“Your heart? Your brain? Your… soul?!” she asked.

“Lol, fuck naw, fam, I had to sacrifice what was really important to me all along… my board!”

They gasped for 12 minutes straight & started to shake his lapels into his face, trying to force him to admit what had really happened, despite the fact that that was what really happened though (seriously even.)

“Naw, fa real! That’s the thing though! You’re now a double-person skateboard cyborg… Armeia!” he said, continuing to soft-test the world’s worst name ever.

Chapter 4: Emory finds a Hat

It had been eighteen entire complete years since Emory lost his hat during the Homecoming Dance. Nancy had been the nicest girl in the world &, later, his wife. But when he lost that hat. Well, it had felt like he had lost a part of himself.

His father had given him that hat before he went off to fight in the war. He thought that he would never find it again after the wind had carried it off, an ample metaphor, he’d thought, for how his father would never be able to return all the same.

Something lost. Something that couldn’t come back ever again.

But he was, as it had turned out… wrong.

That brown fedora had fallen into the hands of an older man, Gerold. Gerold had fixed the small hole in the hat’s curvature & brushed the hat every day to keep it clean; he even oiled it to make it look just as sharp as brand new. He even went out of his way to find just the right bird to give just the right feather to go in the band. Gerold treated this hat like it was his most prized possession &, even when he gave it to his own son, he had made sure he understood the importance of what that very hat had meant to him. His son had worn it every day, rain or shine, snow or sleet, & gave it just as much car as his father had. But it was only on his father’s deathbed that he realized that the hat wasn’t his father’s!

Bathelsby Bartlolome, Gerold’s son, had taken five entire & complete years himself to track down our old pal, Emory & finally returned that old, but supremely fine-looking fedora. Emory saw it & soon, enough, like the fountain in front of the Bellagio, tears ran down his face.

“Why, my father took care of this hat every day of his life. He said that it was… like the son he never had…” he said as also started to cry the tears of happiness again.

“Thank you,” said Emory. Nancy came to the door & saw that very selfsame hat & began crying as well too. “My god. My god, Emory, that is! It is your hat! Your hat is what it is! The one your father gave you… that hat… I just can’t believe it… It almost looks better than the day you lost it. Before the day you lost… your father...” she said in disbelief. Her hand rested softly on his shoulder as Bathelsby Bartolome nodded in understanding.

Armeia had transformed into her cyber-skateboard form as Beagle did the world’s most entirely sickest kickflip on his new double-girlfriend. As he did, the edge of his board just barely caressed the edge of the brim of Emory’s treasured fedora. It lightly fell off of his head & into his hands as he blinked. The three of them cried even harder as Emory looked to the sky, seeing Beagle ollying on air itself & noted out loud with words:

“That was the crayest shit, bae, makes this hat look like a mad bag of butt-scabs!”

They cheered & frother & threw all of both of their hands to the entire sky. The hands soon escaped Earth’s orbit, smashing past the sound barrier & the gravity well of the precious Blue Marble, flinging to never be seen again for the rest of their loves. But despite all that, their new lives together had been fulfilled by having seen that sick-nasty hat-grind

Chapter 5: The Betrayal of Mechagodzilla

• Beagle

Beagle started mounting the Howitzer to his recently stolen wizard van, wiggling his entire ass in a tight circle like the Meme King had once taught him, so many weeks ago. He started to lift all of the van in the air as he flew towards Mechagodzilla’s Semi-Legit Bungalow on the better parts of the nicer Cybertron. Upon the mighty terrain of the robot-planet, Unicron, Jr., the moon of Cybertron flew on by & was like “That was a dick move, Mechagodzilla” as Beagle’s former friend, being the bitch-ass scrub that he was, was. His time alone had left him more than capable of dabbling in the smoketastic arts of vapery, allowing him to slowly & surely vape the entire Internet! His wasteful activities on the planet where robots would be disguised (for some reason) had almost completely decimated the Earth's Internet as Beagle landed on the planet & gave the recently stolen wizard van a look of defiance. It returned a look of soft flirtatious wonder. The wizard on the side of the van looked pretty into the idea, considering how he was constantly licking his lips & playing savory licks on his two-headed guitar. Mechagodzilla turned around like Bright Eyes & was like “Oh, sup, dude, lol, rofl” he said, doing that thing where people just say “ROFL” like that’s a thing people do (what a fucking tool.)

Beagle approached him & threw a water balloon at his rig, stopping his vapor from flowing, finally. Mechagodillza’s Internet-razing storm had finally been quelled. His fantasies, as it turned out, could be quenched, he could be quenched. The fricking frick was finally quenched, finally. It was only now until that Mechagodzilla learned his actions, most certainly, have consequences.

It was a nightmare. Memes flowed from Mechagodzilla’s metallic maw as he whirled his shoulder-mounted cannons.

“What does it all mean?! I thought that the Memes would save me. I thought if I could vape… all the memes… I could release the energy that was built up inside me. That it would help me reach my next level of techno-evolution.” the anti-hero of the Black Hole People spake.

Beagle looked down in scorn as he opened a huge box of green triangles:

“Here, you disgusting creature. You’ve destroyed it all. The Old Meme Kingdom Dynasty has fallen. It’s turned into a Meme Confederacy due to your foolish, selfish actions. Now, the Memes are all but dead! This is what you were looking for the whole time. This is what you have been striving your time for with your looking for it. The purest connection to your own mid. This takes ‘gateway drug’ to a whole notha LEVA!”

The obtuse dinosaur-shaped robot set down his destroyed vape-rig, created from the remains of the oboe that had forever given him the adoration of millions & picked up the green triangle. He inhaled it & it disappeared from his hand when it was inhaled. He found it not only easier to breath than pure oxygen, it actually made his lungs feel better by comparison.

“This cannot be...” he whispered into his own ear & into Beagle’s ass as he'd started returning to throwing his own ass in a thrown circle.

“Yes, Mechagodzilla. It is the cumulonimbus of all my mental training & pharmacology that an unregistered Bachelor’s Degree from DeVry could manage. It is… Weed 3: The Return to the Revenge of the Final Battle!”

But as Mechagodzilla leaned into the soon-falling pile of Weed 3: The Return of the Revenge of the Final Battle, Beagle unleashed the Cold War era #420 Caliber 2B1 Oka Soviet Howitzer, launching a barrel full of plastic butter knives into the monster’s spine.

“That’s what you get for stealing my box of Chocodiles! And for leaving small amounts of milk left in the carton! And using all my fucking half-&-half for cereal! Who even does that, you shitty fake-dino-fuck!” he groaned as his revenge continued.

He threw LEGOs under Mechagodzilla’s feet as he stepped on them & his knees immediately and impulsively exploded in both fury & also in combustive force, crippling him for the rest of his short life as he fell over.

“FUCKING SHIT!” he screeched, as Beagle moved in with a folded envelope, using it to give him a single papercut between his robotic fingers, even while he was begging for him to stop. To have mercy. Mechagodzilla saw the papercut go into that webbing of his robotic missile fingers & promptly exploded. Beagle, being a cool dude, refused to look at the explosion as he walked & then kickflipped onto his sick-nasty double-girlfriend.

Beaglesaurus Will Not Return in Armeiacan Dream: The Legend of Armeia

Chapter Text

Chapter One : Hot-Nasty Life in Neo-Oakland

On a normal day in Neo-Oakland, NO, Beagle was having normal fun at the skate-park, doing some sick ollies & flipping some wicked kicks. With him was his best friend & non-binary chum, Robo Boi, a freelance sidekick that was looking to invest in superheroism, but was alack to do so with no local heroes & no inherent powers other than being a Neo-Robot, the first of their kind & also like sick-ass laser eyes that they could use to shoot people with lasers. Gabbi & Maya watched, hangs waggling as they dripped hot sweat onto the pavements from palms & brows as they gasped with their entire human mouths at each hot, twisted manual & each progressively more exceptional 360. Robo beefed it straight up into a lamp-post & the lamp-post was all like:

“Shitbro, that seems pretty dope, but fuck” & soon died (, the lamp-post that is.)

Robo got up & brushed back their robotic hair out of their technological face, “That was so bad, it got rad!” they exclaimed angrily into the whole sky with their bionic voice. Beagle landed his sick tricks next to Robo & helped them up with a brotherly arm extended towards them, in a very fraternal manner. “Bro...” they said, almost ready to confess their ultimate silicon-based feelings, but before they could finish, a mysterious force called to them both from distant space…

Chapter Two: Hot-Nasty Space Bizz Getting All Up in that Robo-Steez

Lightyears away, the Emissary of Alien-Crimes & Grand Vizier of Cybertron, Astrotrain, honked his space-whistle & started toppling towards Earth.

“I’ll prove him wrong! I’ll prove that ugly, stupid, jackass, $3 Scooby Snack dinosaur-fuck wrong! You won’t take my Lord & Savior, Tarkus Tercel, from me, Grimlock! I’ll wreck… your… shit!”

Robo, still on the Earth, heard this with their ear-like vocal sensors & turned their head angrily, “Shit’s about to go down,” they muttered into Beagle’s ear as they gave him only the most subtle lick on the neck. Beagle blushed in a very red manner, like someone who was experienced with blushing. Even though he knew Robo his entire life (his creator, Donald “Mr. Wizard” Herbert Kemske, had created him as a specific friend for the coolest kid in America to help them fall in love with science all over again after being given the plans by current Governor of Maine, Stephen King, who had come up with the idea of it in a dream he had where he was burning every last copy of Maximum Overdrive, Sleepwalkers & Dreamcatcher [both the film and the book] & the char congealed into the world’s coolest robot.), he couldn’t help but feel confused by these forward feeling that Robo seemed to have for him. What could they possibly mean about how Robo feels about him? He wasn’t upset about Robo’s feelings, but he didn’t know just how best to reconcile them with the brotherly closeness he’d had with them for so many years. He drew back defensively & flipped his own short hair back.

“Y-yeah, whatever. Uh… fam...” he said arrogantly as he turned his back to Robo & kickflipped away, “The Baron of the Skate-Park doesn’t take shit from no one,” he muttered as Maya flailed both of her entire arms wildly, trying to toss a love-letter into Beagle’s hands. Gabbi screeched like a freak as she saw the letter leave her friend’s hand & her pulled at her hair & barked in her ear.

“How dare you! You know that I was in love with Beagle like at least 12 minutes before you were!”

They continued to fight throughout this series, but in the background, their equal power leaving them at a consistent stalemate, time & time again… Or would it?

Chapter III — Hot-Nasty Space Bizz… Arrives on Earth!

Grand Vizier Astrotrain crashed to the Earth, most of Old Oakland & Santa Francesco annihilated in his enormous beefing crater created thus by his unholy crash to the unholy floor. “Griiiiim… looooooooooooooock!” he bellowed as he altered himself into his Train-Form & started grinding his way perilously along the asphalt of the road, tearing it to pieces & destroying houses, both left and also right. Little did he know though, that Grimlock, despite being codified and created on Earth, was still back on Cybertron, leading the Dinosaur Rebellion against Lord Tarkus Tercel!

Meanwhile, back at the Skate-Park, Robo had finally mastered the greatest kick-flip, of perfect, mechanical form & status. It was so intensely chive that time itself seemed to slow down around them, enhancing the pure unadultered, only available on Starz After Dark on Demand, badassness of their Ultimate Move! Beagle allowed exactly one single tear of joy & respect to fall from his eye as Maya & Gabbi fought viciously to catch it in a tiny tear-holding bottle. Gabbi would end the victor… this time. As night began to fall, Astotrain found that walking in normal Robot Form was much easier & smashed through a house next to Beagle’s. A young girl, Coda Aria, would awaken the next day to find herself more alone than ever as Grand Vizier Astrotrain’s trudge through her home, rended her familial domicile apart due to the emotional stress of seeing a rather tall robot, leaving her… abandoned, much like Astrotrain’s own wild abandon for the knowledge of the human heart. His sensors had picked up on the only thing even remarkably close to energon on Earth (as former Governor of California Ronald Arthur Reagan accidentally ate too much of the energon & flew into Io, creating Pepsi Presents New Io before his untimely strangling) … twas the beating Neo-Robot Heart of Robo Boi…

Chapter IV: Shit, Fam!

Coda (much like Clarissa had before she had returned to her exile in Guadalupe) had explained it all, her eyes red & puffy from this loss, as Beagle held her in both of his entire completely human arms. Not knowing any of this, Robo entered to find Coda in his completely human grasp & fought back releasing robotic tears.

“Wh-what are you two… doing?” they asked, looking away.

“I-It’s not what it looks like, Bro! There’s a been an horrible accident. Coda’s house, they got mad wrecked by that space-bizz that just arrived on Earth from space! You know, the hot-nasty one! Was this it? Was this it? Was this the shit? The shit was going to go? The shit that was about to be going to go… down?!” he asked, fighting back his own completely human tears of his own, refusing to let them flow with his own burgeoning, emotionally-charged willpower.

“Twas” Robo said as they turned their entire robotic back on the two others that were human, “I’m sorry, Coda. I didn’t know… I’ll stop him. I’ll make sure this never happens to anyone else...” they swore to her.. but they had meant it all… for Beagle, “Bro… if I don’t come back… I just want you to know...” but before he could finish his sentence, Beagle’s very own entire house was completely ripped from its foundation by the fury of Astrotrain.

“GRIMLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!”

Chapter V: The Borth of Brachiosamba (The Birth of Beaglesaurus [translated from Neo-Ontarian Scripts lost in the Moonfall Incident])

As his mighty robotic hand shoved into Beagle’s rad basement rec room, Robo flew their entire body out of the stylish new skylight in the basement, punching Grand Vizier Astrotrain in the jaw.

“What are you doing? Why are you ruining everything? Why did you break everything I’ve ever learned to love? Why must you rip apart the world that I know?” Robo cried out in fury as they beat Astrotrain across into the third largest Bridge in Neo-Ontario, pieces of machinery flying off of the alien robot in pieces, “Why did it take this to try to tell him how I feel?” they screamed as he grabbed Astrotrain by his leg & flung him into space once more, panting as he stood in the wreckage of the once mighty pathway of the Midwest.

Grand Vizier Astrotrain swore he would never return to Earth unless he was ordered to & began to go about returning to Cybertron. However, before he could, he was forced to scrap off one last piece of himself to achieve escape velocity. Flinging his cowcatcher tunic off of his body, he altered his form (to his Spaceship Form) & flew up. A young girl, Mei Queso Yāzuānlíng, was standing in the entire street, crying over her lost love, some boy she had never had the chance to talk to until that day. Or at least, who she had thought was a "boy," but was (in fact) the world’s first Neo-Robot… In her sorrow, tears streaming down from both of her eyes to both of her cheeks, she couldn’t hear the rush of metal arriving towards her suddenly. Robo did what they had to do, grabbing her as hard as they could, whipping her towards Beagle’s basement rec room. With advanced robot targeting systems, they knew she would land safe. But they didn’t expect how fast the wreckage was going as Beagle & Coda climbed out from the rec room. Mei was in Beagle’s arms, having fallen on top of him in his favorite Kirby-shaped beanbag chair.

“No… Robo… ROBO!” he shouted as he saw the wreckage smash into his entire dankest bro, running to them.

“I’m…sorry...” Robo said to him as Beagle approached, both tears once more in both of his entire eyes, “I never got the real chance to tell you… t-to tell you… I l-lov… ERROR” they suddenly barked violently into entirely both of Beagle’s ears. Despite the blood pouring from his shattered eardrums, Beagle hugged them closer as Robo whispered softly, “I always loved you too… bro...”

Beagle’s closeness would soon betray him as the wreckage arrived promptly at on top of him as well. Deep within the ensuing crash of twisted metal, a tiny onboard self-repair computer activated. Grand Vizier Astrotrain, wounded in battle, had realized that his most important medical services were still encapsulated in his cowcatcher tunic as it blipped on. His main body was wrenched out of orbit & plummeted to Earth once more as his own original programming shut down on impact. Neo-Oakland, Neo-Ontario, was half-annihilated, leaving only the most important characters that we’ll continue to talk about. Circuitry began to light up throughout the machinery as it dug into Robo’s arms to drag them away from Beagle.

“No! I w-won’t leave you!” Beagle cried as jumped onto Robo, wrapping both of his entire arms around their robotic, technological shoulders. Robo's pants slid off slightly as Beagle tried to keep his hold, gripping onto Robo’s robotic foot just long enough that the circuitry began to dig into him… as well…

Chapter VI of VI: Requiem for a Conclusion to this Chapter

Beagle emerged… changed. Mei, both of her entirely human eyes closed at the time, only got a brief, fleeting glimpse of the boy who really saved her life, thinking that Beagle had somehow done all of it himself. Coda cried with tears of joy from her eyes as she saw the wreckage fold into a single body. It carried Beagle’s face & limbs, but bore a metallic body. This new being turned towards her, tall, statuesque & broad. His human arms now were a symptom of a lack of flesh within this techno-organic nightmare he was now living. The intent to destroy Grimlock had corrupted the computer’s onboard digital programming & made it try to alter both Robo and Beagle into Astrotrain’s hated rival in love in the dying moments imprinted on his hardware: the noble Dinobot Grimlock. Beagle’s heart had been disassembled into the rest of his new body, replaced by Robo’s more powerful & physically-affronting Neo-Robot Heart as he looked up with his entire head. He felt different & afraid at this new size & body. But Coda still clung to his entire leg & hugged him tightly.

“I know it’s still you! I know you can still hear me! BEAGLE!!” she cried aloud.

Beaglesaurus, as he now truly was, found tears flowing from his eyes once more. He realized that he was still, in some ways, human after all as he concentrated slowly. He would discover, with time & training, that he could assume a human form once more. His tales of renown would spread across Neo-Oakland as he was hailed as the greatest of its few heroes. He soon got a wicked-tight promotion from the South American Shane Young Societies (or SASSYS!) to “Archduke of the Skate Park,” which he accepted with a quiet, but begrudging light of fervor & rare solemnity. He never heard Robo’s voice again, even though his own now sounded so much like it… He had survived, it seemed, & Robo had not. Robo lived on, in him . They had been the whole reason that he had survived all of this. And, knowing this, he took some happiness knowing that his bro would also be… hella tight...

Chapter Text

Chapter VIII: Coda's Counterattack

President Jaleel White sat in the Oval Office (the most elliptical of all American Presidential offices), squeezing both of his eyes angrily at his desk, both hands splayed out as he gasped angrily.

“What do you mean chili has been outlawed?! I’m the fucking President!!!” he bellowed.

Vice-Vice President Travis McElroy shifted into the room, shrugging noncommittally and made a Curly (from The Three Stooges) whooping noise, dashing out of the Presidential Workplace like a crab, fingers clacking like so many crimson pincers. Speaker of the Entire House Arin Hanson peeked his head in deviously & wig-waggled his eyebrows at the President.

“I figured out what to do now, sir. It’s very simple.” Speaker Hanson implored.

He skulked in like a freak & started starting to dance upon the top of the President’s desk as he continued:

“I figured it out! How we kill Beaglesaurus & ruin everything forever! Firstly, we need to outlaw instant grits that come in packets. People will only ever get to buy the tub!”
“No one ever likes that! It means having to measure something from an imprecise metal tab opening that you can never get everything out of! And also means you have to self-flavor your grits. You’re a damn genius, I’m giving you the entire Iowa Territory!” President White said as he clapped his hands congratulatorily on Speaker Hanson’s legs, “But he’s at least five kinds of immortal! And his alliance with the recent Meme Kingdom is unknowable! Even reducing Congress to my four kookiest roommates & explicating my Cabinet full of only the hugest wizards in all of space-time has yielded nothing! And it’s doing shit for the Department of Agriculture too! I think they outlawed even lettuce too! Can you believe that shit?”

Outside, Beaglesaurus carefully grinded the sick rails of the entirety of the White House fence (despite them having spiked tops, he just slid along every surface, regardless of verticality, pointedness, or how angled it may have been, just shifting along each part in a parallel fury), which was technically legal for him to do. He defiantly bit into a head of lettuce & threw it at a window. Vice-Vice-Vice President Justin “Hoops” McElroy saw him from the East Wing, scooping illegally hoarded chili into his mouth with both of his entirely human hands & staining the White House Graphics & Calligraphy Office beyond repair (though the true rending of the Office was that of personal shame & torment that day.) He shook his head & scrunched most of his human face into a smaller face.

“Surgeon General Clayton Forrester will not stand for this!” he grunted angrily, knowing that lettuce becoming illegal in the first place was one of Forrester’s strange passion projects.

Beaglesaurus ollied dramatically off of the White House Official Fence & ran directly into Vice-Vice-Vice President McElroy’s voluminous powdered wig, having crashed through the window to do this, of course. Coda was to finally be avenged. The war would be over finally. He didn’t know was that she was still alive after the Accident in Bogotá, DC (as seen in the supplementary lite-novel Beaglesaurus & Mechagodzilla have a jolly, ripping, & otherwise fun time when they go to Bogotá, DC! (The Capital of the República de Colombia!) available to Beaglesaurus Platinum Supreme Members now!) He was certainly on fire though, just in a metaphorically bad-ass way (& not in any literal way) and that was his biggest weakness that he was super hoping that no one would ever find out about, especially the Evil Government (as he had taken to repeatedly calling the abnormal new government in power.) Vice-Vice-Vice-President McElroy started jabbering in a fury as his jowls jostled, japed & jangled. He started moving into an unstoppable wrath of his as he grabbed Beaglesaurus by all two of his legs & unleashed a Giant Swing, spinning him before he tossed him down the East Wing Hallway. The Blue Room, despite being only sparsely near the Hallway, collapsed to pieces. Many Wizards on the Cabinet, including Secretary of the Interior Strongbeard the Wise, were crushed all of the way to death & died.

Vice President Griffin McElroy, on the other of two hands, was floating on a vape cloud made of vape in his own office. Not only was his mastery of the vape his most deadly ability, his Ring of Chortles officially made him the Strongest Big Man in the Washington, DC Greater Metropolitan Area (awarded to him by Forbes Magazine in a televised ass-kissing contest.)

“It makes no matter! Even if he defeats Brother Juice, he cannot defeat I! He will never find out the true secrets of… my sinister plans!” Griffin mocked.

Beaglesaurus crashed through the wall as Speaker Hanson accidentally mowed down the entirety of Congress and the remainders of the Space Wizard Cabinet while they were dancing in place, waiting for their pizza rolls to be finished cooking & also not boiling hot inside.

“Goddamn it, Senator Ross!” he barked in a furious fury as his chaingun connected to the last living American Senator. He reloaded another comically long pile of bullets into his chaingun & pressed it against Beaglesaurus’ hot sick-nasty tail.

“I’m gonna fuckin pre” Speaker Hanson whispered in our hero’s techo-organic ear as he went to pull the trigger.

Before he could notice his gun was already jammed, Coda glorious glided into the air like a glorious rainbow, full of glory.

“It’s about time I showed up!” Aria said, impatient with the amount of screentime she was getting.

In the background of this scene, if you kinda looked really close, you could see that Vice-Vice-Vice President McElroy had been defeated by her when he ran into a lamp post outside & then fell over. She smirked & started to shine a tiny light in Vice President McElroy’s eyes.

“Piss in my car!” he grunted in all of his anguish, “They fucking aced out Juice! Where the fuck are you, Travis?!” Griffin bellowed next as Vice-Vice-President McElroy suddenly threw a rose through his easily-breakable Vice-Presidential desk in the Obtuse Circle Room.

Falling approximately 15 entire feet & breaking Vice President McElroy’s desk, Vice-Vice President Travis McElroy stood up & smiled in a debonair manner.

“You rang? You forgot that this floor is… carpeted! You couldn’t skateboard within here for your life… bitch?” he asked softly, starting swirl his cape in circles.

Beaglesaurus gave Aria a slow, sly look & she was just not having it, returning it to him with an icy “What the fuck are you doing?” look in return. Beaglesaurus lay on the thick shag carpeted rug & started to pull a plastic jar from his overcoat.

“Guess it’s about time to… make some cookies,” he pronounced like a prominent pouncing proclamation, producing the red lid top from it.

Vice President McElroy pulled out his entire mustache & threw it in Vice-Vice-President Travis McElroy’s entire face.

“You addle-pated shitbrain! He’s going to do something fucking stupid! Stop trying to impress your superior wife with your Tuxedo Mask bullshit!” he ordered, authoritatively.

Vice-Vice-President Travis groaned out angrily & disappeared by spinning constantly like Wonder Woman when she turns into Wonder Woman (in the show,) “Fuck you too, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooootherrrrrrrrrrr!” Travis said with an affected echo that he was doing himself, not to be seen again maybe for even the rest of this whole chapter.

While the brothers had been arguing, Beaglesaurus’ plan was already in action with peanut butter smeared into the shag carpeting all along the door & windows, trapping Griffin inside as he started buttering his path towards his dilapidated desk. Vice President McElroy recoiled in fear, his glasses shattering glass into both of his entirely human eyes at merely experiencing something so cringeworthy. He was too frightened to even scream as he merely held up only one of his shaking hands of his.

“Perhaps I was always the one who faked the funk of life… on this nastiest of dunks...” & vaped thoughtfully out the window without touching the peanut-butter, his confidence broken & his inner ear mildly disturbed.

Approaching the Oval Office, President White pulled out his $60 RSD Sword Made Anime Props — Zangetsu Knife (Straight Lengthen Style) Japanese Anime Bleach Kurosaki Ichigō sword (You coud tell it was fake because it’s spelled Ichigo to anyone who isn’t a baka gaijin.) which he bought off a guy at a ValuePawn & had sharpened by the cunning swordsmiths of Man at Arms; Reforged. He waited patiently as Speaker Hanson flopped all of his entire body in, stuttering & shaking, all of his two ears having pulled painfully ripped off by Coda Aria while he was busy trying not to get super totally rattled by this whole new Peanut Butter Fiasco.

“Ah shit, dude! This is really getting me started!” he said in his best affected New York accent.

Without his job as Speaker of the Entire House, he knew he’d never obtain enough Mexican pesos to rescue his friend Dan from his Carbonite-esque imprisonment within the confines of the Canadian Rockies.

“I’ll never know what Paris is like...” he said as he soon dropped dead from embarrassment, his entire fly being down the whole time.

President Jaleel “Chili Dogs” White shook his head & narrowed both of his human eyes as he cut through the door, whispering patiently into Beaglesaurus’ techno-organic ear, “Oh… did I do thaaaat?”

Continued in Beaglesaurus: Chapter VIIII — Jaleel White Dopes out a Real Boner!

Chapter Text

Chapter VIIII: Jaleel White Dopes out a Real Boner!

As his shitty anime sword clashed against Beaglesaurus’ techno-organic arms, President Jaleel White gasped & fell all the way backwards, almost 12 feet, into the wall. He picked up a window & threw it at Beaglesaurus, but he ollied over it & began violently beating White with his skateboard. A handful of his human teeth fell out of his human mouth as he suddenly shimmered.

“You caught me unawares once. I guess I was on a snooze-cruise! It won’t happen again! That’s no good!” Pres. White said, moving around at unseeable speeds.

He began whirling around Beaglesaurus as he miffed dramatically likes the most horrid of toffs. His sword unleashed a tornado of pain into Beaglesaurus as he whipped his coat around himself, whirling his own head around & blowing out his cheeks.

“This sounds like it’s time to push the Big Button. It is… the only way!” he shouted in a shouting way.

~~~~~

What he did not know was that very same bee, the new King of Memes stood up & addressed his people.

“Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier & welcome back to me declaring war on the surface world! No longer shall we be oppressed by those land-living bastards!” he declared to a mostly unimpressed & entirely terrestrial population of Meme Kingdomers, “And I’m bringing back Chinese if you pay into it! I mean, if a lot of us chip in, it won’t cost more than a few bucks, right?”

His subjects whooped, enthralled & rejoicing in tears at this now moving speech & offered around $12 apiece, curing World Hunger forever (or at least in that part of the Meme Kingdom.) King Markiplier answered his big important Garfield phone as it rang loud sharp meows into both of his human ears.

Hearing Beaglesaurus screaming madly on the other end as he was cut with a blade a lot of time, he merely responded, “Well, that’s all we have time for today! Soooo goodbye!” he exclaimed cheerily.

~~~~~

Light years away, on the planet of New Hot Cybertron, the Emperor Tarkus Tercel grunted quietly. A peon transformed into an Adirondack chair for him to laze his robotic, yet disguised, ass back into. Before he could commence the full ritual of relaxation, a small Minibot ran in & transformed into the Sacred Artifact of Cybertron, the Important Red Pager. Picking it up between his techno-pincers, he gasped aloud.

“Ah snap, this is that planet that GV Astrotrain fucked off to! I guess I better go get him… or somethin’. Whatever,” he said tsunderily as he shrugged his way to space, boarding another peon who transformed into his Dope Ass Space-Yacht.

Holding on like a waterskiier with both horns, he wrapped both of his two entire legs around his Sacred Ranch Dressing Amphora and started scooping that buttermilk sauce into his maw with a gusto unseen by mortal men. His target now: Earth!

~~~~~

President Jaleel White pointed dramatically at Beaglesaurus as he extended his tail emphatically. Pres. White totally ate shit into his nice-ass Oval Office HMS Resolute desk, smashing it to absolute splinters as the ghosts of Former Queen Victoria & Former President Rutherford B. “The First Bullshit Election” Hayes vomited into their fanciest of ghostly hats in a ghoulish rage, while the shittiest President yet lost another twelve of his completely human teeth! Coda pitched a sick-awesome rainbow at him, causing him to guffaw up exactly one buttload of blood before he could even begin to have going to start to have feeling towards speed of around again in a wave of incredibly blue, ring-based speed.

“It is useless! Your ‘girlfriend’ Mei has been banished to the Moon-imōto! Lettuce is illegal & now only cabbage’s slonky dankness shall replace it! American is mine to do with as I please and your home state of Neo-Ontario will forever be, from this day forward, renamed Neo Duckberg! There is no escape from this magnanimous, glorious Hell that I have started!”

Before he could monologue further, Coda whipped her Veloci-Frisbee at him, though sharply, & it severed off his magical beard gifted to him by the last President before him (Acting President J. Michael Tatum that is), destroying all hopes of his adept speeds being used for Presidential Chicanery & other unconstitutional japes. The unacceptably fierce douche whipped around in circles as his powers began to fade from both of his formerly magic legs.

“Ah fuck, my legacy of torment cut short with practical ranged weaponry?! Is there no hope for my twisted & disturbed vision of an American world anymore? The system is trashed to mad bogus amounts of bunk! My last boner has been… pulled! I can’t believe it anymore! To think that I can suppose that the only reason I did all of this was just to k—”

He was coarsely interrupted by Emperor Tarkus’ Space-Yacht slamming into his Oval Office, immediately smashing his head into an unrecognizable fountainous mess of offal, spewing blood in a hot shower of gruesomeness. His flailing neck jiggled with ambient muscle power, gurgled & then fell over dead (as did the rest of him.) The Green Room soon also collapsed, & the remaining members of the Space Wizard Cabinet died from shock at how much money they could’ve saved by switching to a more affordable laundry soap (and the crushing.)

Falling forward properly past the promptly parked Space-Yacht, Emperor Tarkus no-scoped a handful of America Sauce into his foodhole & shot finger guns at the two.

“Hot news, cool teens! The Emperor is here! Where is my erstwhile Grand Vizier, Astrotrain? He had some kinda bitchfit & fucked off to this backwater planet, have you seen him? He’s like a… 12 foot tall robot… or a very blue spaceship? Or a very spaceworthy train? He looks like a train that turns into a spaceship, I don’t know how to say it any easier than that!”

Broken emotionally (on the inside), Beaglesaurus shook his entire techno-organic head softly.

“I’m sorry to say that he fucked up & accidentally fused me with my sweet robot friend & non-binary chum, Robo. Ever since, I’ve been the sickest tight wicked nasty bad boy skateboarder & rebel of the 1980s’ in the entire world! But tell me, Space Emperor Whoever, who are you? And why did all this hella bomb mad talk get all twerking up in this mad boy’s sick tasty grill?” Beaglesaurus inquired questioningly.

Coda threw a rainbow at Emperor Tarkus Tercel, who screamed & flailed around in hideous pain until he recovered & stopped doing that.

“That was most deserved then,” Tarkus responded, “Let me go about laying the hot sickness on you, dude & other person. Eons ago, an ancient doorway opened on Cybertron & spake some mad bunk about choosing our destroyer. Fuckin’ turns out it was Gozer (the Gozarian,) a mad bogus time. On that day, my Revolution against the Dinobot Militia ended & Count Starscream fucked up in a massively gnarly manner, splitting the entire planet in twain! Like who even does that, man, really? One half fused with our dopest moon that has a face, Unicron, Jr. & became the planet known as ‘Old Shitty Busted Cybertron,’ ruled by the hugest shoobie that every swung a douche-nozzle in the whole entire Galaxy!”

Behind him, that very same nozzle-swinging shoobie appearanced, saying in the cockiest way that you could say a thing.

“I guess I get all the dirty jobs! Well, you’re gonna be in a whole world of pain, Emperor Numbnuts Fartknocker! It’s gonna be a short, sharp lesson in interplanetary diplomatic relations… and in pain! Can I do less?”

The speaker turned out to be none other than the Crown Poo-Bah of Old Shitty Busted Cybertron, Rodimus Prime, “Come on, Tarkus! Reap the whirlwind! Well & truly! Fight & die! What chance do we have? You won’t believe the things I can do now!”

Tarkus shook his head at this ignominious fuckwit & gave up to just throw a huge, big, & otherwise large rock at this head. Rodimus fell over & dropped his Power Matrix. Everyone felt super embarrassed for him.

“Power beyond measure; like some predatory bird! I guess I was surplus to requirements. Well, I never did want to live forever!”

Before he could keep spouting cliched lines, Tarkus picked up another huge rock & ended the War of the Two Cybertrons by smashing his head in, making Emperor Tarkus Tercel of New Hot Cybertron the victor in the end.

“No. You’re dead,” he said as if it were witty at all.

Beaglesaurus wasn’t sure how he felt about this likely wholesale war crime he just witnessed as Tarkus shrugged & looked all the way down the barrel of Camera 5.

“Was it something I said?!” he asked & there was a hearty laugh from all involved there.

Doing a complicated handshake, Emperor Tarkus departed to name his Regent to rule on Old Shitty Busted Cybertron. Fuck, I dunno… Probably someone like… Kup. Yeah, whatever, let’s go with Kup.

One distant Kingdom away, King Markiplier’s hand slowly pushed towards that of Former Vice-Vice President Travis McElroy, uniting them as the Second Mega Powers, the most unstoppable tag-team of all time.

“With our powers combined… we could steal all the jewels in the world! Now that my dipshit brothers are out of the picture, ol’ Marki-Moo, our teal plans can start getting magenta!” Travis remarked.

King Markiplier made a real fake laugh & petted the Queen Chica softly on top of all of her canine head, “Now that we have tossed out Beaglesaurus’ Regent, King Mr. Cool ICE, he will pay for his untimely… abdication!” he broke out into an evil laugh for the next ten minutes & Travis mildly joined him in a non-committal fashion until he stopped. “Sorry, I thought of a skit on Martin. But soon, none of his loyalists will remain & the Meme Kingdom… will be mine!”

In a dark, vape-dank cave, Former Vice President Griffin McElroy dumped a huge oil drum of peoples’ blood onto a crayon drawing of a pentagram, summoning the Unheard Bespoilers of Reality from the rifts beyond space-time, “Oh great Bespoilers, grant me this boon! I wish to create & control that Marquis of sauces. Make it… so?” he asked squeakily with the upward inflection of questioning. The Bespoilers writhed at his cringworthy display & wriggled out at him, slapping a cursed mark of the curse on his head.

“Know that it will be the very nacho cheese that powers you that will one day spell your downfall. The cheese shall become your executioner...”

As they left to go watch Two & a Half Men reruns on their Zunes, Griffin inhaled dat thick ass cotton dankness & whispered out.

“The time has come.”

Twelve weeks later, the world knew of the might of the Pipis Mansion, owned by the Mysterious Leader of Fuck You, It’s Cheese National Enterprises. The rules were simple, anyone goes in, but no one ever came out living or even alive! Riches untold were promised to any who “could” best Griffin, but all fell, washed away from his cheesy goodness. An almost infinite conveyor belt of beefy hunks & huge dudes continued daily to show his power grew only more & more. Even in pitched combat with the Mayor of Chicago, TV’s Brent Spiner, was only enough to wound him! His right ass-cheek has to be replaced with cybernetic attachments so as to keep the cheese pumping through his immutable & dangerously cheesy form. Thus, he dechristened himself (since no one christly could go about by such a moniker) by the name that Beaglesaurus would scream to the heavens for some time to come:

“You may call me… Cyber Griffin McElroy!”

Chapter Text

Chapter X: Mellow Mike's Moonbeam Disaster Bonanza

It had been a mere six months of exile for Mei, now sent to the smaller of Earth’s moons, the Moon-imōto (as due to how adorable it was.) Ever since the supposed assassination of “Senator” Septiceye of the “Reduced” Congress, she was no longer “welcome” to return “home.” Ever since she & Coda separated into two people (& a skateboard,) it was clear that someone was out to get her. It was even clearer once she had made the big discover. She had unlocked the true secret of Cinnamon Toast Crunch & it was all too clear then that she knew too much. Knowing too easily that her death would be too suspicious, even for President Jaleel White, she sealed herself in a crystalline Twinkie & launched herself out from the Remaining States of America, blasting off to Parts Unknown (Not the one in Iowa.) But now, it would be Beaglesaurus’ turn to make the biggest decision. He knew that Mei must be rescued, but was he to bring her back to Earth to just turn her down once more? Was he in love with Coda after all? Was he even in love with Mei though? He could yet not tell, so he could not know.

Approaching Aria, she lifted his hand off her shoulder & started whipping around in circles with her veloci-Frisbee.

“I think it’s the only way that’s fair. You can even build your own decks!” he argued.

Coda sadly shook her head & closed her eyes, “I’m not playing Magic the Gathering no matter how many times you ask. And two people aren’t a card game tournament. Also Mei isn’t even here. Fuck, it’s like you didn’t even read the last few chapters! You didn’t even read the last paragraph, you busted Tech-Deck.” she scoffed, scoffingly.

~~~~~

Beaglesaurus groaned outward through both of his entire techo-organic lips enough that the Equator shifted a few degrees & had to be readjusted in the morning by a team of experts. Fuck You, It’s Cheese National Enterprises had grown to an astonishing rate of power then. The home state of West Virginia had been conquered as had regular East Virginia, now united once more to soon become the aptly-named “Best Virginia” for about 12 entire Earth minutes before Cyber-Griffin seceded entirely from the RSA! Large walls of hardened orange cheese were soon erected beyond the view of others & shooting down any aircraft looking their way in with a guacamole anti-aircraft gun. The Pipis Mansion had become a Fortress, now the capital of his burgeoning nation, Blartertown. Despite this, the myth of Cyber-Griffin faded with purpose & soon Travis had returned. Symmetrically opposed to the seemingly abandoned Pipis Fortress was built the grand Arcadia of the west, the Dome of Destruction, the Ring of Ripping ‘Roids, the Heptagon of Hatred, the Really Big Place Where People Fought a Bunch, Punderdome! And Travis would nightly twiddle his fingers, stroke his mustache & watch as his roster of wrestling burly dudes grew & flourished well. Quickly rising to the top was the most powerful African-American man in the Northern Hemisphere (as voted by Popular Mechanics magazine), Randy Savage, Jr. Next to him was the rippling Giant of the Midwest, hailing from Parts Unknown, Iowa, the Beast that doesn’t walk that much like a Man, Shitty Tim! Together their tag, the Ultra Powers, would not only grow to their platonic ideal of manliness & defeat every fighter to come against them in this barbed-wire bloodsport, but also in the torrid & tempestuous matters of the heart. Their power & fury were only matched by the intimate passion that radiated from them with each fraternal ass-smacking that heralded their walk down the entrance ramp, cheered by fans & the blustery tune of Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight) by the Swedish pop/disco dance group Abba. The prize for winning combat was always gems and jewels in their intricately jewel-based economy, but in the end, the rocks that shimmer & shine would ever pass back into the hands of Travis when the foolhardy tried their luck & died against the bludgeoning wrath of the Ultra Powers. The glitz of the battles night after night would only end if and when the seemingly random events would occur: electricity shutting off all across the burgeoning mini-nation & a voice that would call every cell phone in the nation with a mass text, sending out a constant message of

Who Run Blartertown?

It would also be accompanied with the well-known winking emoji. The answer was never received by the public, but Travis knew. He would look down from his spire atop the Punderdome, sipping his Ecto-Cooler in a torrent of ire. Yet, he was the one always forced to whirl his cape, bite his tongue (despite him not being in hearing distance), swallow his pride (for now) & answer:

“Cyber-Griffin run Blartertown”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, on his dope-ass spacefaring hot rod, the SSRHMS Spinnaker, Beaglesaurus rocketed off into space for the Moon-imōto, his coat flapping around behind him & dancing along his sidereal exhaust pipes. A sensor went off way too loudly as he gasped in an incredibly dramatic fashion. One couldn’t quite say the blockade of starfighting starfighters approaching him boarded him so much as he skidded out into a docking bay & ate shit against the back wall, then through three or four more into the galley where a pot of Space-Gumbo fell comically on his techno-organic Converses.

“Now it’s person,” he grumbled & grabbed both sides of his entire coat, whipping through the Halls & spearing through a door like some form of spear. The Blockade Commander was seated casually in a very casual chair, lazily holding an artillery laser rifle at him in one of two robotic hands.

“You have come to battle, yes? Come to get killed, yes?” he asked slyly.

‘Twas the bounty-hunter of space-time, Death’s Head I, his eternal frown releasing a cacophony of sparks, “The Space Wizard Cabinet hire me to kill you. And this is how it goes about happening, yes?”

Beaglesaurus pulled his shoes off & unleashed his newest bloodline technique he'd created on the spot. Removing both of his entire socks, he started whipping them in circles, Space-Gumbo flicking everywhere.

“I’m… not sure I follow,” Death's Head I said gruffly, “Since the Cabinet died in the Incident… after I was done working with them. I guess they was paying me… through the roof?”

Death’s Head I laughed for an uncomfortably long time at this complete lack of humor. He sputtered to catch his non-existent breath & stood back up.

“So, check of mine going to bounce, yes?”

Beaglesaurus whined out a loud squealing Yeeeeeeeeesssssss & twisted his head around in circles disturbingly. Death’s Head I would have thrown up if he wasn’t still a robot without human bile inside of a human stomach, “I guess onto the next job I get to gabbing about, yes?”

~~~~~

Back on Earth, the Meme Kingdom had come in harder & more & more laws of frivolous “need” & unknowable selfishness had been imposed by King Markiplier. Despite rumors of the legend of a “true heir” being found, their march moved on. Nebraska would soon fall, Governor Steve “Sting” Borden being beaten down with his own bat after he lost all will to live, having failed in King Markiplier’s singular combat challenge to be in the form of whoever could sing a list of Sondheim’s greatest hits. Soon, it too was annexed from the slowly disappearing American countryside, all so that King Marki-Moo could fill an entire pool with cornbread for a cool video. Despite it being not as funny to everyone else as every pool & source of water was replaced with cornbread, & the masses heaved a collective sigh of discontent.

“Find the Immortal Thief! I want him dead!” Markiplier cried, thrusting anguish at his mighty advisor, General Noble of the Lost Pause.
“But… he’s immortal...” General Noble spake.

He was quickly replaced for the crime of correcting the King, being buried alive with his sexy fox tulpa, Lily, in Ball Cemetery in Springfield, NE. General Logan Paul reasoned that he would have to be more tactful as he put on the ceremonial Pepe Helm. Queen Chica laid down on a floatie across her cornbread pool, panting softly & adorably.

~~~~~

Arriving on the most adorable moon short of Deimos, Beaglesaurus danced his way along the dusty paths as the Habitation Bubbles soon appeared. The only thing in the way was a large set of alabaster ruins. Among them, screaming to the firmaments & the unfixed sphere of celestial moving… things, was a 20’ tall grey man sporting Victorian clothes & a voluminous ruff, spitting mad as he belched out curse after curse.

“Get off my fucking yard, you fucking kids! I am the Great Ray Dittuto! The King of the Moon demands you promptly fuck off & vacate! I will throw sand at your shit-eating mother & I will not hesitate to knock your ass fucking senseless!” he exploded loudly.

It was hard to tell if this was a decent threat or not, since being 20’ tall, he was far too big to actually fight anyone competently. Beaglesaurus, not even having said a word, grew tired of his manic screeching about property rights & evictions, and swiveled all of his hips to fire a grappling hook from his techno-organic stomach hatch. Catching it on his ridiculous ruff, the Moon King screamed louder than the greatest of whales could sing as his head seemed to come… clean off! What was less impressive was that he was still all too incredibly capable of screaming & shouting even with it off! Prancing in circles, Beaglesaurus tapered & whipped ‘round until he detached his grappling hook, sending the Moon King’s head into deep space. His sightless body had his hands on his hips & a pose that said “Fucking really? This is bullshit.”

Entering the Habitation Bubbles, a missile rocketed past his head & a group of moon people were torn to shreds. Soldiers charged slowly past him as one looked up at Beaglesaurus, crying in sad grief:

“She must see you! You are the one who can stop him. Stop all this madness. Fuck, all this dying hurts! Ass!” and then died, pointing to a taller bubble extending above the others.

Dashing through the flying moon’s sand, Beaglesarus flapped his coat until he landed at the elevator platform. Two muscular guards flexed in approval & he was provided some amount of welcome to the aptly-named Duck Palace. Heading up, he was shown to the office of the Moon Queen. Swiveling round in her chair for dramatic effect, Delia Duck stepped onto her office desk to greet him.

“Good Earth morning, I am Delia, the Moon Queen.”

Beaglesaurus gave a confused look & pointed out in the distance to the Moon King’s body, spinning around with double birds flipped at all the worlds to see.

“No relation. Nowadays everyone says they ‘rule’ the Moon-imōto, myself included. But this is because I was elected to this position by the Moonites that live in our beautiful bubble. This amulet I wear is a symbol of my fair trials, Democratic lifestyle & because I like amethysts. We need your help! The Moon Pope will stop at nothing to take over, even if it means killing us all to make it happen. You’re our only hope,” she quacked.
“Why should I get involved in a war that I don’t completely understand? What good is there in being a soldier of fortune when I can be a skater of fortune? This is sounding like mad hot bunk skank, duck snack!” Beaglesaurus responded, civilly & almost politely.
Delia shook her head at this affrontous nature & motioned to a window looking down into a Conservatory. Standing within was Mei, eating moon chips & watching moon television, “Because Mei is my sister!”
Beaglesaurus again gave her a look as he looked at the human Mei & then at the duck in front of him.
“So… is she adopted?”
“No, she is a professional little sister, she has a degree from Yale for it. It definitely isn’t fake. If someone grifted the Moon Queen… who knows what that means about my intrinsically overtrusting nature!”

Before she could continue, there was a loud spidering crash as they looked out the moon window. Below, the main Bubble was cracked sickeningly across the roof of the dome. An alarm started blaring directly into everyone’s ears, pissing them off a huge amount as a ticking time bomb's counter started. It would take only three hours for the Moon-imōto Habitation Bubbles to explode & kill every person on the Moon-imōto!

“And what’s worse, there’s still too much exposition to get through!” Delia quacked in a fowl manner. Beaglesaurus started to ask her not to, but she started talking anyways.
“Long ago in the distant past of 20XX, late night surreal talk show host Eric André, disturbed by the murder of Hannibal Buress by Completely Human Will Smith in a ceremonial blade-fight, like most soured people, entrenched himself in dark magic & mental training to try to become the Necromancer Superium. However, through his magic was created a thought-creature, an egregor of might, a power beyond that of his own mind, the terror that walks the Moon-imōto known as… ‘Mellow Mike!’ Mellow Mike would soon easily turn on his creator & cast him into the depths of cable television obscurity and also into a pretty huge fucking ravine that appeared on Long Island. For his crimes against humanity by depriving them of surreal talk shows, he was exiled to the Moon. When it split in two, he would become the most emphatic gang leader in the Moon Bubbles, having managed to use his obnoxious charisma to lure away Mei’s own former gang of Moon Bandits. Last Moon Wednesday, Mellow Mike revealed that he had ‘discovered’ an artifact of great importance, the Sacred Ranch Amphora, which he took as a symbol of great importance & significance. He declared that he was starting his own new religion with blackjack & hookers and that he’d make his own Bubble after taking a correspondence course in woodworking. So now he challenges my ironclad Democratic rule! He is literally inviting people to walk onto the bare Moon-imōto into a wooden shack he built out of Moon driftwood!”

Recognizing this as the Sacred Ranch Amphora that Emperor Tarkus created to house the most bodacious of intergalactic sauces & thought quietly:

“Ah, shitting chickens! This is super fucked! And now there’s only forty minutes left!”

Delia kept going on about her cousin, a goose who created Skype & Kazaa, but Beaglesaurus used his techno-organic ears to instead check the fuck out of this conversation & started listening to some hot rap hit singles off of Kidz Bop 5,000, a classic. Furthermore, he didn’t hear how Mei, while possessing the power of Vriska, speared him with her Trident & turned him into a much less useful duck, but how Delia was basically over it.
Below, Mei knew that she was cheating her way to the top yet again, but she still couldn’t help but feel bad that Delia was trusting her just way too damn much. Her left eye still flickered in and out, her vision fleeting from nothing to eight-fold at times. The power of Vriska, it seemed, was not entirely devoid of her yet. She wondered herself about it & if she was in the right mind or not when she casually murdered God-King Mac Tonight in space & led a group of bandits for almost five entire months. She could feel a soft pain radiating in her left arm. She huffed softly, panting as she felt it could all be lost once more again even. Could she contain this power again or would this charge of uncontrollable emotion send her reeling, only held back by her love for Beaglesaurus & the thin veneer of her sanity, molded in a web of dangerous lies & secrets, yet still wearing out like an angry dog pulling against its ever-weakening chain…?

~~~~~

In the distant north of North America though, the Sultanate was in danger. After the rise of the Meme Kingdom rose, Canada was becoming similarly splintered. While most of the West Coast had now coalesced into the Meme Kingdom (& most of the Midwest at this point now), the former provinces of Quebec, Newfoundland & Labrador had seceded not only from the Commonwealth, but from Canada itself, separated with a Grand Canal dug around the border by order of the irate Prime Minister, Jim Carrey. The newly-crowned Sultan, Woolie Madden, laughed as he was accosted by many assassins. His giant turban jiggled on his head as he spat at their feet.

“Eat a fat dick off a short pier!” Sultan Woolie challenged.

Throwing a red barrel at them, three of the “Doodles” exploded &, therefore, died. Unleashing volley after salvo of bullets at his wondrous body, they were alack to find they collided against his impervious chest hair. But even his might of the North could not hold the bloodthirsty “Cheesemen” at his abide. Certainly, the Doodles were agents of Cyber-Griffin, stories merely whispered in Blartertown, now all too real & their macabre action pulsating freely across the Nor’east. After a fierce battle of fourteen weeks, the Sultan was pinned under his treasured fightstick collection. As more & more were piled on him, he merely kept laughing. His secret third arm revealed itself from the depths of his emerald & regal dreadlocks, holding a dead man’s switch.

“These were all rigged to blow! Each one was made to be destroyed if they displeased me & you asshole-butlers are serving up a heaving serving of conflagration! You’re gonna find out the hard way that I’m not the Immortal Thief! See ya later, fuckers!” Sultan Woolie declared (as his final declaration.)

He had always been a kind ruler, willing to answer questions when sent to the correct e-mail address, training the young in their footsies, & always willing to raid pies from the new mainland. Emir Pat Boivin of St. John’s was reported to have wept so greatly that the mighty Lake Boivin was first established, an eternal font of salt. Emir Daigo of Sheerbrooke vowed to never play Blanka in reverence, even in casuals. The Doodles were all wiped from the face of the Earth. The Sultanate in shambles, they wondered who next would rise to be Sultan of the Nor’east. The Royal Grand Vizier, Matt McMuscles, was, luckily, on vacation at the time.

~~~~~

South, in the American capital of Detroit, the newly elected American President, “Ninja Brian” Wecht, gave a glaring, intense look to Vice President Kizuna Ai. She gave a streaming shrug & spoke in some broken English, but she knew all too well what he had meant without him saying much of anything at all. It was simply the way he looked that said it all. In the left end of the Oval Office, Congressional Maven Hulk Hogan whipped his jowls about in a tizzy & tore off his shirt yet again. As Maven, he had the full power of the legislative branch, the sole member of Congress now. But his true power was that in what hid below him. In a secret compartment in his left boot, he hid a cache of enchanted buffalo jerky given to him by the dreaded Papa Shango. In the right, he hid his legendarily powerful Lööps. They knew this meant war on Canada yet again… In the Northwest Capital of Winnipeg, Prime Minister Jim Carrey stroked the ancient wooden Norse mask & flicked his sunglasses down over both of his eyes.

“Alrighty then…”

Back on the Moon-imōto, Delia sat down in a floating chair across a small plastic children’s table from her rival. The obnoxiously garish Mellow Mike licked the Sacred Ranch off his fingers & started screaming before he started to glare down upon her just as much as she glared upwards at him. The airlock cycled as the contract was signed.

“Then the armistice will last until the crack is sealed!” she stated, coldly.
“That’s a hot slice of milk-steak, funkadelic… And if you don’t believe me, you can take that coat rack to the trainyard,” Mellow Mike agreed.
Delia floated backwards & her chair docked into the wall, “That may be as soon as tonight due to the holy power that you have given us. Your human Earth ‘FlexTape’ will serve us well. Unlike… you!”

Whipping her hair back and forth (like Mayor of Orlando, FL, Willow Smith,) she smacked it into a giant, conspicuous, jolly, candy-like red button, opening the airlock. Mellow Mike was launched out into the ether at enough of an angle to send him into escape velocity from the admittedly weak draw of the Moon-imōto. Though, as an inhuman spirit of pure thought, he could not be killed by lack of breath! The momentum sent him hurtling, soon melding with the head of the Moon King, never to return… or so it seemed. Delia quacked madly as the spirit of her amulet sparked forth & her true form, that of Magica DeSpell, was revealed!

“The Moon-imōto is mine! That’s why you don’t fucks with the ducks!”

That very next bee, she was crowned as Grand Popess of the Ranch & the Matriarch of the Moon-imōto. However, as the vault of Mellow Mike’s was wedged open to show the mighty Amphora… it was gone. A note where it had been merely read: “It is returned to a rightful owner, yes?”

Mei watched as the Bubble was fixed & shook her head in dismay, petting Beaglesaurus’ tail, the most voluntary physical affection she had been capable of showing him. This many emotions being inside of her made her arm begin to shake again. It would fall off at any time if she grew any more dramatic than this. She decided, then & there, to throw it out. If this the Moon-imōto was not the place to thrive, there was always another one.

“Beaglesaurus, I love you. But things are just going to get worse unless I can learn to control my powers. This Curse drives me to feel lucky & try to goad the world to action! I must move off from all of this! It’s the only way. I’m going to Old Moon,” she told him with words from her speaking mouth.

Beaglesaurus’ techno-organic eyes both flickered with an amount of oil-based tears as he saw her raise into the air, smashing through Delia’s Bubble. He gave her a solemn nod of respect as Delia was sucked into the vacuum of space through the hole, screaming for help from anyone who could, but didn’t though. After seven hours & more equipment from the FlexTape line of products, the Moon Bubble was soon sealed again. After Beaglesaurus left the Moon-imōto, the Right Most Honorable Reverend Cardinal Sam the Eagle brought forth an assembled avian quorum. After months of deliberating, Launchpad McQuack was named Pope of the Ranch & King of the Moon-imōto. Within a few weeks more, by a path still ratherly not known, the Moon-imōto managed to somehow crash into Mars with King Launchpad's driving & the colony died out almost immediately.

~~~~~

Within the depths of the Pipis Fortress, Death’s Head I tapped all of his robotic fingers on the Sacred Ranch Amphora as Cyber-Griffin emerged. His oranged skin was now again a healthy white as all cheese on Earth began to mingle with his own. The cheese was tainted most bogus by the sacrilegious union of sauces. Revealing his demipenultimate weapon, the Oddjob, he set the mechanical top hat on top of his one singular cyborg head. As it did, his body tore & reformed as he moaned violently into both of his own human lips.

“That’s some vape-alicious hotness!” he breathed slowly with his breath (which was made of air.)

His union & this weapon combined would work too well together, becoming a mad busted juggernaut of attac & protecc, for now he was proved to be too short to be reached by conventional firearms. Thus now, he unlocked his third key to immortality. To kill a thrice immortal had only occurred around twelve times in recorded history. But before victory could be called, a burly form smashed through the wall, grinning eternally as it did. The Immortal Thief, formerly held within a cell in the Pipis Fortress, had grown bored & merely walked through the wall, his unstoppable body radiating with vanilla goodness…

“As my eyes have seen, he is never to be stopped! Never to be balked, ever to heal again,” Cyber-Griffin mansplained to himself as the Immortal Thief began his trek to the Meme Kingdom…

~~~~~

Stepping onto fresh Albertan soil, the Congressional Hulkster popped open his right boot compartment & imbibed only two of his legendary Lööps. Radiating with arcane fury, he stepped into Banff National Park & the ground tore beneath him. As he started to hulk up, he pointed at Mt. Assiniboine angrily.

“Let me tell ya somethin’, Mean Gene! This here mountain has been keeping my friends down for years & the Hulkamaniacs are startin’ to lose faith in the legislative powers of these 28" pythooooooons!” he blathered. As the fury overtook him as he charged the Pinnacle of Banff, screaming in a voice that shook the entirety of the Rocky Mountain Range, “Whatcha gonna do when Hulkamania runs wild over yoooooooooooooooou!”

As he dashed to the peak of the Pinnacle, he unleashed a far more literal Atomic Leg Drop, the tallest mountain in the province shattered to tiny stones as the underground bunker was revealed. Long hidden since Governor Jon Jafari’s kidnapping of him, demanding then Speaker of the Entire House Arin Hanson to either pay him 12,000,000,000 Mexican Pesos (or beat the game Battle Kid,) but both proved impossible in the Evil Government’s influences. But now, there was no negotiation; he would be released now, regardless! As Maven Hogan tore the doors open with his rippling pythons, he found the Carbonite slab & lifted it over his head in victory.

“It’s time go home, Leigh… it’s for you to be the Sexbang once more...”

Chapter Text

Chapter XI: The Thief Stolen, Now Returned

The troops dashed to their ramparts, bullets flying in wild arcs as shells danced merrily along the parapets, dribbling down the walls like Charles Barkley had once dribbled serenely across the courts of the First Meme Kingdom… before his will was torn asunder & his Kingdom fallen to the pretender king, Markiplier. In his throne room, he pensively kept one hand on the arm of his throne made of Doritos Locos Tacos-flavored Doritos Tacos, now horridly shamed by dashing it into Fresco Style. All the spice was removed & replaced with a mild, yet tasty blend of pico de gallo. The taste was wondrous, but at what cost? Some believe it was this very affrontous action being that what was stopping the memes forever then from being spicy. His other hand slowly pet Queen Chica, as he gasped angrily, his billowing robe trailing down the red carpet. The Immortal Thief stood in the doorway, the soldiers washed away behind him. His body resealed, the unknowable taste of the shakes that fueled his unstoppable form washing back from the courtyards & into his greedy mouth. He chuckles vicariously, though his face remained as dopey as it ever was or ever would be.

King Markiplier threw Queen Chica quickly into the cornbread pool to escape the violent end he was rather due to meet. The Thief stood tall above Marki-Moo & the shakes began to pour from his mouth. King Markiplier gasped far too aggressively, since this made it just very much easier to suffocate on his triple-thickness. No longer was he the King of the Meme Kingdom or Five Nights at Freddy’s (because he died.) As he drew the crown from his head, the Thief lifted the former King over his head & walked out to the balcony. People muddled around his Choco-Taco veranda, not particularly enthused or interested in the least, even when the late King was thrown off the ledge, falling off it into an open manhole, never to be seen again. It was clear the Meme Kingdom was generally tired of all this shit already, drinking their cornbread out of their Double Gulp cups. General Logan Paul quavered in fear as the Immortal King now smiled from his eternal Taco throne. As he did, the Lava sauce returned to your local location across the entire Meme Kingdom. The spiciness had returned. But as it did, General Logan sensed something might have been wrong in the face of this violent, brutal regicide…

~~~~~

The Second American Wars had started already a month before when Prime Minister Carrey donned the Mask of Loki, unleashing the power of the one known as the “Big Head.” Drawing forth the unerring spear of the gods, Gungnir, he smiled in madness as his head began to grow & turn green once more as it had in his youth. Within some days, as it was casually flung from his palatial estate of the Fort Garry Hotel &, unable to miss its target (regardless of how poorly or weakly it was flungen,) President Ninja Brian was soon evacuated to a safer location. When news of Prime Minister Big Head had finally reached them early from the triple-crossing Imperial Spymaster Mike Myers, Vice President Ai was similarly evacuated to become a Designated Survivor in Atlanta, GA, hiding in a bunker below the World of Coca-Cola & encoded into President Brian’s private Presidential Zune. The capital was relocated to Cleveland, OH, wherein the President took up residence & office at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. In the attack on Banff National Park, Congressional Maven Hulk Hogan had destroyed far more than anticipated by any party. His steroid-fueled might surged far too powerfully & not only was the National Park razed beyond recovery along with the complete entirety of the Province of Alberta (& to a lesser extent, the entirety of the State of Montana. [Though it had been long since “conquered” in the rise of the Meme Kingdom, no one had formally surrendered, since no one formally liked the idea of living in Montana & people were not very upset to lose it for the most part.])

~~~~~

Similarly, the Grand Cheddar Walls of Blartertown had gained more as well, annexing the state of Kentucky (as Governor Johnny Depp was smothered in a blanket of snakeskin,) soon followed after by the Doubly United State of Carolina (after Governor Moolah was forced to eat pudding until she felt queasy & had to go to the bathroom on a poisoned toilet.) But to be certain, more was clearly at hand than merely this!

President Brian shook his head in mild dismay as he heard the news & slammed his fist against the table, shattering yet another one before it was carried away & replaced once more. Beaglesaurus had been summoned &, naturally, was too cool for school & refused to bend the knee, ollying over the messengers until they foamed at the mouth. Secretary of the Treasury Faarooq shook his head solemnly & muttered.

“Damn.”

Secretary of Commerce Bradshaw nodded in an agreeing fashion & slammed down some brewskis in respect with his long-time ally & hetero life mate. The APA then went out on their way to find Beaglesaurus (who was busy at Racing Lasers Plus Laser Tag Center, being really fucking awesome at laser tag,) & grabbed him by his entire techno-organic tail, unleashing the world’s most powerful Giant Swing, heaving him through the window & smashing through a statue of Lars Ulrich. Doing so, the curse was finally broken & Lars sublimated into the toxic smoke from which he was once born so long ago. President Brian made casual gestures that looked like polite introductions despite him not saying anything. Beaglesaurus shook the broken glass out of his trench-coat & ate a sandwich he had in his pocket.

“Sound like someone needs me all of a sudden. You didn’t listen when Mei was exiled from Earth. You knew it was all a step! Even though you weren’t a part of the administration responsible, I’m going to unnaturally & very unreasonably angry about it! This is all your fault, somehow! Nothing will ever be the same without her!” he cried in a fury of angry stridency, grabbing & rattling America’s first Ninja President like a particularly dim-witted ragdoll.

Waiting until his nonsensical melodramatic diatribe had ended, President Brian sat down edgily backwards in a chair like a cool dad as he squared it with our hero, the Archduke of the Skate Park. He pulled off his entire ninja mask & shrugged intensely.

“Alright, so here’s the 411, dogman homeboy. The deal is that the Vice President &, more importantly, my Zune, have gone missing in Georgia. Something incredibly terrible is roughing up out there & we need…” he informed, informatively. He leaned over to Beaglesaurus, his lips directly next to his techno-organic ear & sighed exaggeratedly deeply, “Your help. It’s a simple operation. You go in, you follow the GPS signal she’s putting out & bring her back in. Things are… not good out there. Some kind of shitheads with flamethrowers have been scouring the south of the state & we haven’t been able to hold them back. The fires aren’t even being fought because they keep destroying the helicopters & fire trucks. We think it may be Canadian agents, but we can’t be sure… yet. But that’s not important, you can do better than dealing with a little fire, can’t ya, Scarecrow?”

Beaglesaurus started to tear up. He missed Scarecrow most of all.

“What’s in it for The ‘Saur?” he asked, using a nickname he had made up that no one liked.

“A full pardon for you & a cool plus-two. You can use it now, use it later, use it whenever you need to. A veritable Get Out of Jail Free card.”

Beaglesaurus nodded arrogantly as a five mile smile smeared all the way across all of his face & pointed finger guns at the President in approval.

“We’re going to reverse-Fulton you into the area & then wait. In five days, we will send a very art deco train to pick you up from Savannah Union Station.”

As it turned out, a reverse-Fulton maneuver was just a hot-air balloon ride with a sword being thrown in it when the position was right. It wasn’t until he landed that the big reports came in. Following the Zune’s signal, he trailed over from Georgia into Florida with relative ease. But as he did, the winds… changed. A million hands across Georgia were beating the Earth, pounding it with wrath & fury unknown to other men. Their hands crashed or wielded whatever tool they could to flog the land until it began. Georgia began to falter, the terrain slipping & sloughing until it cracked & tore. Soon, the entirety of the state was too damaged. It returned to the ocean from whence it came from millennia ago, every beating hand that tore it asunder, sinking along with it as Alabama now grew a glut of beachside property…

Luckily for only Beaglesaurus, the Vice President had been moved. South. To the Lost State. The Forsaken Land of Florida. Every since Mayor Willow Smith of Orlando was slain by a man with a mouth packed full of bath salts. The bath salts had become not unlike manna, drifting from the sky, since ever after the event. No one knew the true, villainous reason. What’s worse, the bath salts had become more & more altered, draining all moisture from the body & reducing those who inhaled them, even only a gram or seven, to frail blackened shells of their former selves. Wrapping their broken, leathery skin, they would become known as the Florida Mummies.

As he took off to the skies, whipping his coat back & forth in flight like the majestic wings of a swallowtail butterfly, he spotted the first of them. He circled slowly as he saw a man dressed not unlike a Mexican wrestler. Red boots, red trunks, a red luchador’s mask, trimmed in gold, red gloves & a billowing red cape. He landed as the man held up one fist to the sky.

“Who are you? Do you know about the Georgia? Or the fire brigades? Are you going to answer me… at all?”

The man merely kept standing there until he started vibrating unnervingly. He walked past Beaglesaurus & started trying to fight a fire hydrant. Naturally, the fire hydrant won as the man merely kept punching it as if he could win. Beaglesaurus shook his head in shame at this shameful display & walked on through Volusia County. It was a little interesting & rather entertaining when he saw a second man dressed in the exact same manner. It was clear this was a man of a completely different height & build, but was dressed the same way. What seemed the most similar though, was that this man was riding a zebra & holding a Publix Cookie Pizza in one hand. Spotting Beaglesaurus, his head darted like a deer towards him as if he had accidentally stepped on a branch (you know, like you see in the movies.) He cautiously removed the top of the Cookie Pizza’s container, eyes wide, as if filled with fear and not a delicious Bavarian cream filling. He slowly began climbing upwards on the zebra until he was standing on its back & whipped the Cookie Pizza at our most bodacious hero. It easily crumbled off of his techno-organic chest as the man screamed in discomforting amounts of dismay that this ridiculous tactic had done nothing to stop him & leapt from the zebra’s back, jackknifing into a retention pond nearby. Naturally, he was eaten by alligators in minutes.

Things began to feel much worse as he entered Orange County proper & saw seventeen men, all dressed the same as the two men before. They hooted like orangutans & let out high-pitched moans like how howler monkeys do (when they howl,) rallying around the ground below Beaglesaurus. They were no longer men, but animals (but, you know, like a metaphor though [they didn’t actually turn into animals obviously {that would be ridiculously unrealistic}].) Beaglesaurus decided that he had enough of this malarkey & promptly turned west, flapping his way to Hillsborough County, intent on a new sub-mission objective…

He let out a wail of pure, unfiltered joy as his techno-organic hand extended all the way from his seat to hit a large green button, starting up the Montu yet again. This time, he was even going in the front row! He intended to spend at least four of his five days enjoying a Busch Gardens incapable of being ruined by these crimson shitheads. One of them managed to make it in barely, but soon was hit by the splash zone of the SheiKra & began quietly groaning on the floor, as if the splashdown caused him grueling mental anguish, but he didn’t want to upset anybody though. On the last day of his important mission (already well-paid into it with a rollicking good time before the Gwazi would get changed out next year), he flapped his way back to Orlando on the path of the missing Presidential Zune. He found it led him to a giant black cube in the middle of the Disney World area. Knocking on it both of his human shoes, he found a small shaft open as a pair of eyes glared at him accusingly & with an especial sourness. He could see a green mustache growl behind it & asked him a simple question:

“Answer me this question! This riddle shall ye hear! I’m not good at rhyming… so listen up… and… cheer! If a train leaves Chicago going 800 mph & a train leaves Clarkstown going 77 mph on a dusty trail, emitting a 77 joule ring of pure Hawking radiation, at what Cuban amusement park will they erupt into a singularity?”

“I don’t think you can take a train to Cuba… not ever since the Cuban Train Fiasco of 201X.”

The man harboring the fugitive mustache whooped in an ecstatic whimsy of vim & removed the mustache with glee.

“Stand back! You may enter! There really wasn’t a bad answer, sometime before the infection strikes, people started to fear anything that sounded intellectual. And after the infection is fully spread… they congregate & deliver another mask. Enter quick, we cannot hope to let anyone else in…”

There was a sturgenous groan in the distance as a masked man started rubbing oil into his mouth with both of his gloved hands. As he entered through a short maze of black, similar, twisting hallways, the unmustached man covered Beaglesaurus’ techno-organic eyes & the door opened, light coursing in!

“Welcome to the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, the Blueprint of the Future! Welcome to EPCOT! My name is Director Michio Kaku! For months now, we have managed to keep out all the dullards, intolerants, & most importantly, the ‘Florida Men.’ Let us take you to see the Grand Director, who directs us directors in our directions...” he said, loading himself & Beaglesaurus into an uncomfortably small hyperloop canister & barreled towards Norway. Atop the Norway Pavilion, Director Kaku left them as Beaglesaurus met the Grand Director of EPCOT.

“Well, nice to see a new face. My name is ‘Buzz’ Aldrin, Second Man on the Original Moon,” he said, swirling a snifter of brandy, “Welcome! Ever since I was set as NASA Administrator, I decided that I would return EPCOT to its former glory! Now it was become not only a bastion of science in a world of conquests & madness, but the only safe land left in this Forsaken Florida. I presume that you are going to ask about the masked men?”

Beaglesaurus didn’t answer him as he was downing a flagon of mead & eating a huge jar of gammalost.

“You see, may years ago, the world was attacked by a series of alien forces, terrorist cults & mutated monsters. Each one was perpetrated by a spirit of conquest from beyond the stars that keeps returning one after another after another & returning again once more. It referred to itself commonly as the ‘Daishuryō’…”

Beaglesaurus nodded as if he were listening & then swallowed, “Ah yes, the ‘Brusque Spaniel!’”

“It… means ‘Great Leader’...” Buzz said, unsure he was speaking to an intellectual contemporary, “Well, suffice to say, this entity has returned. This time, it has grown out of hand, there is no strategy, no plan, there isn’t anything it wants! It takes over each person, like a virus, growing only to grow, living only to spread, if you can even call it that. There is believed to be a core carrier, in a former life, known as TV’s Dave Caruso (Of course best known from his appearance in the television film Mission of the Shark: The Saga of the USS Indianapolis), but now he is the Leader of the Florida Men. These ‘Florida Men’ as we call them, have all mutated past mental reach. They started up in small amounts about when the Internet crashed entirely, but started being found more easily, more easily reported, but it was still merely chalked up to drunkenness or methamphetamine usage. Then we… lost Mayor Smith. At the same time as that a machine activated beneath Gatorland, releasing a regenerating cloud of the misting bath salts, creating the Mummies &, those who are powerful enough of form & mind, become Florida Men. The problem is that they have formed some kind of cohesion now. They’re still a chaotic mess, but now they’re becoming a chaotic force. The Leader hasn’t declared war or anything, but just destruction. This is no conquest. He just plans to tear it all down now… As you saw in Georgia, no doubt.” He knocked back the rest of his brandy.

Beaglesaurus had kept on tracking the Presidential Zune as he exclaimed, across the park, “Oh, she’s just at Spaceship Earth!” He'd not really heard most of what Aldrin had been saying.

He started walking back to the Norway Pavilion about the time & sat back down as Buzz turned back around.

“So you see, that is why we have sealed this place away. We can’t let them ruin the science we’re doing here! It’s not even like they even want to get in, they just want to break things, throw things around! What reason is there to come up with a cure even? They are out there & they can stay out there. We’ve already worked out an anti-grav system. If they break Florida like they did Georgia, we will just float in place where these fine lands once stood tall. Our scientific Eden will remain locked. We only really let you in to let you know that you should just leave. We were lucky that we were able to detain the Vice President here. You can take her, go, and do not return! We need you not! Director Nye, remove him from our Science-topia!”

Beaglesaurus set down his board & kickflipped off the Norway Pavilion, riding a stream of hanging lights as he landed on top of the Spaceship Earth, “Alright, listen up! I don’t give a rat’s ass about your high-handed, John Galt, thinky-smarty, 2+2 but saying it’s 5 looking bullshit. You’re gonna come up with some hot new sick-science that is way better than everyone else & then it’s gonna fuck up & your whole black box is gonna crash into the ocean too. Or worse, you’ll be the only one left after it falls in mad nasty, & then you high-waisted labcoats are gonna start bickering about who gets to stay in charge or who gets to use the joystick to pilot to a better planet & then you’ll yaw too swift & give out crank on a wabash, bro. And then… you’re just gonna be a big bucket of geniuses who didn’t help anyone else but themselves. So take your self-absorbed Ruby Tuesday Salad, Olive Garden Unlimited Breadsticks asses...” he dug a sick grind off the top of the Spaceship Earth as it crackled down to bits from the mad contact of a gravity-defying crash. As he spun around the top, moving down, sheets from the dome sheered off like a peeled apple. But as they fell down, the Presidential Zune snapped in half, sending the top half flying out through the top of the cube & into the depths of space. Kizuna Ai banged on the screen like she was General Dru-Zod, screaming into the emptiness of the Phantom Zone,

“Get things together & work with us or you’ll just get the Moon Madness. I saw it happen. Everyone wanted to do what they wanted, & in the end, the Moon-imōto crashed into Mars. You fools don’t wanna pull another Launchpad… do ya?” He ollied out of the hole in the cube, clutching his Presidential Pardon in his jaws, flapping back to the Forsaken Florida to stop this madness once more. “I’ll stop these madmen if it takes all of this chapter to do it! Even if I have to confront all of my intensely-rushing emotions & utilize every piece of my poorly-defined techno-organic abilities to unleash it!”

~~~~~

The Leader of Florida, TV’s Dave Caruso, dramatically put on his sunglasses & smiled.

“Looks like I’m… burning my bridges, huh?” he punned unattractively.

Across from him stood the challenger. The Leader left the body of Caruso as the two fought to the death, Don Johnson whipping off his burning Armani jacket.

“You’ve lost track of your mission. You’ve spent all your madness making puns & snorting meth. How do we know you’re even a real Florida Man?” he asked, accusatory in nature.

Caruso gave a wry smile & slipped an entire pair of sunglasses over his sunglasses, “Sounds like… the jokes over then...” he said as Johnson stepped back & threw the marlin in his hand through Caruso’s chest, killing him instantly.

The Leader made a turn back to him, a classic Blue Steel, & invested his soul into a 98% of Don Johnson’s bod as he donned the mask of his brethren. A small yellow L appeared on his forehead as he blushed furiously.

“Soon, the plan will be complete. Every native Floridian will soon be influenced by me. Bring forth our Champion! He will raze the tar pits & we will invade the great State of 'Bama! The burning will begin anew! Take every burner who didn’t fall with Georgia in the mighty waters & march them across the blockades!”

Beaglesaurus landed in front of the rotting carcass that was once the maw of Gatorland, throwing an immolating Hungry Howie’s Pizza on top of the two Florida Men guarding the entrance. The Mummies started to drift towards him, but (as it turns out) Mummies are very slow & usually rely on magic powers, stupid people & an oddly consistent amount of strangling to get anything done. Hence, Beaglesaurus merely lashed out his mighty tail, flinging it into the two support beams as the maw of Gatorland slammed shut, killing twelve Mummies in one blow. The Archduke of the Skate Park… pressed on.

~~~~~

In the Meme Kingdom, General Logan moved forth as Governor Neil Patrick Harris of New Mexico, having been drained of his magical powers of song by the Immortal King spake.

“It seems the Land… has lost the Enchantment. At least I may die… knowing that I may at least—”

His voice was summarily quashed & then quelled when the Immortal King squeezed his entire legs until it formed an uncomfortable clot in his right thigh, then dramatically breathed his last.

“For the Lulz!” cried General Logan as the Memers cheered in victory, throwing toast upon the bloodied body of the fallen Governor.

The Immortal King chuckled in General Logan’s ear as he nodded & proclaimed to the masses, “The King names this land ‘Dew Mexico’ & has promised a waterfall of every flavor, to cascade forever among us!” he announced to mild cheering & some appreciation as the army soon went back to finding an interesting new way to eat pizza.

~~~~~

In the meanwhile, the Grand Cheddar Walls opened enough to let the rage-filled, mask-drawn face of Shitty Tim step through it, like a waterfall (the kind you can walk through), but made of cheese & also mostly solid (except for the part you walk through, that is.) American envoy Tim McGraw rustled his way up to Shitty Tim, hiking his jeans up & flicking his cowboy hat upwards as he smiled to him.

“Ah hear you’re a big fan, Tim. What I need you to do for me is just try & tell your masters that we just wanna talk, open up some conversation. I mean, hell, we can’t make our way inside the Walls! No one comes in or goes out most usual. That & you guys do keep throwing the dead bodies of fallen warriors outside. And, well, I’m not saying that they’re getting into people’s hair, but goddamn, even when the Walls spread, the bodies just kinda roll & mash there & you’d think that’s bad for the cheese, at least, huh?”

Shitty Tim grunted in agreement, then clutched both sides of his head, screaming in confusion & also in Tim McGraw’s face, whirling in circles like the Ultimate Warrior. In a confused fury of bemusement, his dearth of gray-matter overcame him. As tears poured out of both of his eyes, he lifted his entire mask & bit into McGraw’s charismatic & rustically handsome neck. He keeps biting & biting and biting until there is nothing left to bite. Bathed in blood, it is not that that was abnormal by now for him, but he is still shaken by this. He had been a great fan. His flesh shivered as he stodgily walked back to the Walls. They turned thin enough for him to walk through again; the white cheese bathed him, washing the blood from him as it was shifted outside with the bodies. They now stand twelve feet along the entirety of the border of Kentucky. Randy Savage, Jr. runs to him, comforting him, his lips locking against Shitty Tim’s mask (despite it not being on his face) & he clutches him tightly in all of his arms as their tears mixed into the cheesy goodness.

~~~~~

Congressional Maven Hogan roared like some kind of beast that is known for roaring & flung the Presidential Desk out of a window. They were running out of windows to break at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, though not running out of desks, luckily enough.

“What do you mean they’re dodging out on us? Hawaii can’t leave! What about Governor Kona Crush?” Hogan fumed, his eyes twisting in a ridiculous fashion.

President Brian shook his entire head in a way that meant that Kona had died unfortunately due to a horrendous back spasm while surfing. Hawaii had seceded & returned to being a Kingdom once more. Their gambit was guaranteed now that the West Coast was controlled entirely by the Meme Kingdom. Who was to stop them? President Brian started to hug his table so hard that it broke again below him. He was not looking forward to the possibility of Vice President Hogan…

~~~~~

Back in the Forsaken Florida, the Champion of the Florida Men stepped obstinately forth. It took one deceptive look at his eternal jean shorts (or “jorts” as they are known) to tell that John Cena would, even in the throes of his madness, still remain somewhat similar to his being. The most powerful of the Florida Men seemed to still be gifted with their minds being, though twisted, able to still form though & use some logic, even.

“Even you?” Beaglesaurus asked as Cena’s theme song blared from kazoos all around from rabid Florida Men, flinging folding chairs & boomboxes to rile up the gators in the pit all that much more. Beaglesaurus stood ready as he whipped his tail into Cena’s stomach as he groaned out heavily.

“The heel turn was the only way left to go. It was the lust for darkness that fueled me further when all hope was lost. What is there still in this broken, fractured land to fight for? Why not fight for myself if there is no one else left in this madhouse?”

Beaglesaurus nodded sagely as he dug his techno-organic teeth into Cena’s right bicep. But in a merely mild flex, his techno-organic jaw was forced back, firing concentrated hope from his body, Cena stooped until Beaglesaurus was pinned against the walls by these arrows of light that his dying hope had created. Pierced to the wall, Beaglesaurus coughed up blood in that way you see in anime that means someone is hurt, but will probably recover (unlike in Regency romances, where it means someone [if not everyone] will die of “the consumption.”) It was quite the dramatic display. Cena leaned in close & chuckled as he reached both of his hands into his mask & started rubbing his face, smiling. He slowly lifted his mask off as he made a rounded O of shock with his mouth, throwing the mask aside & whipping his cape off. He looked in both of Beaglesaurus’ eyes & saw no romance as he merely kissed his forehead & whispered to him.

“Due to a vitamin B-12 deficiency during my youth, I’m genetically incapable of turning heel. Finally, a savior has come. It took all I had to keep them down, to hold them back, to stop their strongest by being the strongest myself. Let’s drag them down together. Even if it takes all my strength, I’ll hold them back & keep them down. Make me proud. Don’t let my sacrifice go to waist.”

Whirling back, his body exploded outward as his hope fragmented wildly into spears like that of a radiant hedgehog that had a lot of light-based spears. The holy flames burned the Florida Men as they straggled backwards, tumbling out of the walls to escape his fiery purity. Cena began smacking them back & unleashing Five-Knuckle Shuffles on the ones who were already struck down. Beaglesaurus charged ahead to the Gator Pit, where Don Johnson was whipped around a gator by the tail in one hand & an especially long rock python in the other. He rose from his glass throne of harvested meth pipes & flinged the reptiles at everyone’s favorite cyborg-dinosaur-skatepark-superhero-everyman. Unleashing his techno-organic arms outwardly, he swung the beasts away from him as he pointed at Leader Don.

“This can’t be all. There must be more to this! There must be some amount of humanity inside you! What about Miami? What about your home? Why must you keep destroying this all?” he asked him, impassionately.

Don, quavering, quaffed a milk jug filled with gasoline & drew from an urn of human ashes & bath salts as he painted his chest & face with them, grunting out angrily & began shouting once more.

“It’s all over! There is no way to do it! All over! The cures couldn’t work! There is no hope, but that of fools! The idealists are the only ones that haven’t realized the rot of their soulless work. They know not what the research I’ve found created,” Leader Don said, swiftly.

He took off his left shoe & threw a Zune at Beaglesaurus, who was very clearly disgusted at the action, using a napkin to pick up the device. Looking through its contents, he found boundless research of nigh-endless tests trying to cure the disease that was the Florida Men, but each one failed.

“My lab partner took the rest & left. He still has hope… but I’ve realized what is true: that the Leader cannot be stopped. He’ll merely return once more when he’s coalesced into some monstrous form or some new human host once again. There isn’t any chance in stopping him! No chance! That’s what we got!” he said, quoting famed orator (& then Secretary of War [as the Government decided that Defense was just kinda bullshitting at this point]) Mister Vince McMahon, Sr.

Beaglesaurus gasped at this amount of exposition & explanation to take in as the Leader’s power surged within the cockles of Don’s heart, whipping off his sockless slip-ons. Before he could charge forward to stab him with his ancient Sri Lankan urumi whip-blade, Cena stood up & dropped a hot clothesline to him, using the last of his hope to create a hardened hope spear & handed it with both hands to Beaglesaurus.

“If you kill him, it may end it all! I can only hold him for so long, you must!” Cena implored.

Beaglesaurus picked up the spear & shrugged emphatically, “I don’t have to stab you with it too. I can probably just take him out pretty easily...” he reasoned, smacking Don in the head with the staff of the stave to knock him out.

Understandably, the Florida Men continued to gibber & fight, but Beaglesaurus lifted Don up & wrapped his legs around his midsection like an amusement park’s roller coast belt as he took off to the skies once more. John Cena gave him a proud Marine salute as Beaglesaurus flapped away like a resplendent manta ray (but in the sky & not underwater & also he had a face & a huge dinosaur tail.)

~~~~~

Returning to the capital, Beaglesaurus shrugged at the President’ fury to ecstatic recorded laughter of the studio audience.

“Yeah, the Veep got the yeet into space in all the fracas, buuuuuuuuuut, I have better news! There is another, someone else is working on curing the Florida Men. With this, I think that he can do just that!” He threw Don Johnson’s comatose body onto the Presidential Desk, which collapsed once again. “His partner is still technically in America & he’s still willing to help us. All we have to do… is get there...”

Beaglesaurus began flapping away to his next mission, deciding something must be done about it all. Once he was gone, President Brian picked up his Presidential Cheeseburger Phone & pushed the top bun off of it, revealing a FaceTime app he had installed in it. The seven agents stood saluting with a fist against each collarbone.

“I think it’s time you move in. If anyone can get to those maniacs out there, it’s you. You have all of my faith & honor, Ladies...” They nodded & the screen shut off, ending the call.

Epilogue I of IV

After his exodus from Florida, he had still since been working on the cure. Except for just now. Now he was trying to reach out, like he did once at least ever day. Every day, no one answered, but he had the hope to think that today, he would. He sipped from a salt-rimmed margarita, his gift of wonder to this formerly desolate island. Guam had been happy to accept him & so willing to accept his exciting, amazing new drink that they soon renamed their Commonwealth, “Marguamitaville.” He listened to the soft ringing on his parrot-shaped phone as he stroked a majestic macaw. In the depths of Blartertown, Shitty Tim bellowed for what was his from the boiler room he & Randy Savage, Jr. lived in during the off hours. Cyber-Griffin smashed his fist through Shitty Tim’s locker door & picked up his gym bag to find the source of the sound he hated most. The sound that he knew he must stop. If he were to have his way, It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere (ft. Alan Jackson) would be scoured from the Earth (much like George Lucas had finally scoured the human zeitgeist of the Star Wars Holiday Special.) Finding the phone, he saw it merely said “Brother” & crushed it between both of his bionic asscheeks, then vaped the remainder.

“Never. Never. NEVER! If the solidarity returns… All I’ve worked the least amount possible for will be broken. The Leader already has failed me & my army will march north to me! If they have to burn it all down on the way!”

Back on the island, the ringing stopped & Jimmy Buffet hanged it up. He sipped his drink & sighed, but then smiled all the same.

“He’ll pick up next time. He’s my island brother. It has a deep meaning & I know, somewhere in there, he knows it...”

Epilogue II of III

The medical vault sealed, making sure the Florida Man’s Leader was unable to control them until he could be excised or exorcised from Don Johnson’s deliciously powerful body. President Brian slashed a huge Sharpie marker through the tattered (both physical & metaphorical) remains of the original American Constitution. There was no way, no goddamned way he was letting Hulk Hogan become his Vice President. Thus, Mick Foley was instead signed in as the newly elected (by the Ninja President himself) Vice President of the Remaining States of America. Congressional Maven Hogan burst into the room & tore his shirt off yet again in a rage as he started running into the wall as if they were ropes, creating huge holes in them before he opened his boot & started chomping at his enchanted jerky given to him by the dreaded Papa Shango, bits of the dried meats flinging from his mouth as he growled.

“Let me tell ya something, Mean Gene! I need to get back out there & unleash on them! There’s a war going on & I wanna show them what happens! I’ll break as many States as I need to if it means winning! I’ll protect this place!” he insisted, rudely.

Vice President Foley merely shook his entire head, his bushy hair shaking with him.

“You won’t be able to protect anything if you pull another Montana. You’re gonna sit your ass down & file your paperwork until I say you can fight again. It’s bad enough that we’re losing states at a rate of knots!” Hogan sneered at him & shoved his finger in his face, but Foley merely held up two of his own, threatening a return of the fiercely debatable Mandible Claw

President Brian removed his mask & spoke coarsely at the Congressional Maven.

“You will wait. We will all wait… until Danny is ready again.”

Hogan stormed out, mumbling about the unfairness of it all in the matter, still glowing with arcane, necrotic enchantment. President Brian started a one-man slow-clap slowly, both to himself for such a cool line & also for Vice President Foley, impress that anyone could manage Hogan’s blusters. Vice President Foley kicked his feet up on the table & shrugged, only for it to collapse again. He leaned over to President Brian & smiled.

“I got a new gift coming in. A… housewarming gift for you & me...”

As the truck pulled up, the Japanese tables were brought in to serve as new desks & President Brian nodded, sagely, realizing they would never fully break...

Epilogue III of III (Plot twist!)

Returning from a bath under the Code Red Falls, General Logan Paul looked down at the shake that dribbled from the Immortal King’s sleeping maw. He dipped his fingers into it & found it far thicker than any shake could be (triple-thick or otherwise.) He had wanted to see if he could swallow it, would it travel back to the King out of his body & which way it would go about doing so. But as he stuck it in his mouth, this was not the taste of vanilla assaulting his senses. A large shadow began looming over him as the Immortal King chuckled behind him.

“King the Grimace… I will tell no one! I just merely cannot believe it... This is… Queso Blanco? How are you filled with… cheese?”

King the Grimace’s four additional arms sprouted from his body & shoved the General backwards a bit. Stepping from the mild shove in a backwards motion, General Logan slipped furtively on to a banana peel behind him. He began to rocket out of the Castle, falling down eighteen flights of stairs, drifting down the highway in a rolling mess, & soon stood, broken & battered in the now American Exclave of Arizona. Standing up, he looked around himself & saw bananas everywhere until he took a step, slipping & falling into the Grand Canyon itself, screaming until he stopped so quickly & so suddenly (as one does.)

People were quick to turn from the empty seat where once sat the formidable, if trite, General. In his place, General Shane Dawson sat, but pensively so. He knew the secret already, having been sent it in a text message while General Paul was falling into the depths of the Colorado River (while screaming.) He had always known since the moment he saw the King the Grimace emerge. He could smell it a mile away even. But no one could believe him. And he was still Immortal. There would be no stopping him even if he did. As the King the Grimace entered & took his throne again, General Dawson effervescently shat himself, as he always did in King the Grimace’s presence & always would whenever the great purple monster entered. He knew that General Dawson knew. And he knew that if anyone else did, no one would know him for very long at all. King the Grimace chuckled… menacingly.

Chapter Text

Chapter XII: Family Matters

Chapter I — Griffin

Cyber-Griffin moved from the roof of Shitty Tim’s Locker Room Emporium, south of Punderdome, as President Brian’s Special Forces moved in. This elite team of ninjas would elitely bounce from roof to roof as well as they split up to confront the three McElboys. Landing before Cyber-Griffin came a tall figure dressed in black, throwing back her cape to show off a white armored bodysuit & pulling out the smallest sub-machine gun on the market, pointing it at Cyber-Griffin’s techno-neck.

“Sounds like someone didn’t protect they neck. One wrong move & it’ll take approximately 28 to 74 hours for you to recover from a wound that grievous,” the assassin told him. Cyber-Griffin adjusted his entire glasses & started a whirling tornado of nacho cheese beneath them. “This isn’t dificil, we’re not here to kill you, you know more than that. That’s what the President thinks is going on, so we will bring something similar if we have to. For now, all I want out of you… is my husband back.”

Cyber-Griffin twirled his entire torso around in circles as he flailed his arms about enigmatically, “That may be able to be arranged… Dr. Smirl…”

A second figure landed as Cyber-Griffin wrote down the contact information on where to find Justin, “Hello, Griffin, we’re here to speak with you about life & shit like that,” she said as she unmasked to show that she was the Magnificently Wonderful Rachel McElroy.

Cyber-Griffin guffawed in shock and also in terror as he stepped back a few steps, “No, I don’t… go by that name anymore. I’m Cyber-Griffin, Shadow King of Blartertown! We cannot. Not… anymore. I am … too entrenched in this life. I cannot break free anymore. I am doomed by the melty exotic flavor of the nacho cheese. The power of the Queso Blanco, the Sacred Ranch Amphora, the Oddjob, & with this last piece, I will become Quadruple Immortal! I mean… isn’t that pretty fucking dope?”

The Intensely Great Rachel merely rubbed her temples in disappointment & began screaming into Cyber-Griffin’s hairline, unable to contain her disgust at what her own husband had become. She twirked in dismay as she looked down upon him once more.

“When will this all be over? When can we just be a family again? No one really knows why President Jaleel White ever hired you & your brothers as triple Vice-Presidents & I don’t really know either, but this whole thing… You’re becoming a monster. Not just from yourself, but for everyone! Is this what you want? Is power truly more important than… me? Or… him?” she asked passionately, throwing a picture of their son, Henry “The Mad Dog” McElroy.

Cyber-Griffin squeezed both of his fists into small compressed spheres & then decompressed them back into hands, “I have gained another boon in my path of power. Extending past Kentucky, I have absorbed the True Power of the Eleven Herbs & Spices of the Great Colonel Sanders. But… I will give you the greatest things this world has to offer in one ultimatum… no, an ultimatum for myself that will be a gift to you. I will take only one more month to complete all of this.” The Spirit of Colonel Sanders nodded, the Eleven Herbs & Spices having granted Cyber-Griffin the knowable knowledge of his ancient Southern Homely Wisdoms.

“And you’ll return after this month? Win or lose?” she asked as she flung a handful of dirt into Cyber-Griffin’s techno-face.

“I will… my Rachel...” he replied, softly to her.

Chapter II: Travis

The next Special Forces Ninja removed her mask in the office of Travis McElroy, “Official” Leader of Punderdome & Magnanimous Hierophant of Blartertown. He was stunned for some reason to find that this was his own superior wife, Teresa, & started clapping and also doing backflips. Teresa threw a knife through his cape, pinning him to the floor as he slipped & shattered his left ankle into small, bite-sized powder.

“We don’t care about Punderdome. It’s pretty dope. But your conquests cannot continue. You will stop it or you will be cast down,” Teresa demanded as she jerked Travis up & down by his hair.

Travis shrugged, “Hey, if I’ve got Punderdome & I’ve got you, I’ve got all I need, sweetie. Did you bring any sweet potatoes?”

She nodded & they unwrapped the telltale yellow foil & started eating the burning hot orange flesh of the hot sweet potatoes in front of him. He wept in copious numbers.

Chapter III — Shitty Tim, Pt. I

The final two members, Chuck & Coop, lured Shitty Tim away from Punderdome with the wafting sense of Carls, Jr.’s delicious burgers & waffle fries. Randy Savage, Jr. followed him as well, hands struggling to keep his beloved from wandering out into the danger to what was rather clearly an obvious trap.

“Do not be worried, Randy Savage, Jr. When we are finished, we will return him to you. We are definitely not lying to you at all,” Chuck said.

Randy nodded slowly & started twirling his hat around on top of his head. (A Randy Savage hat that is.)

Chapter IV: The Archduke of the Skate Park, Pt. I

Beaglesaurus had finally arrived, having flapped his way to the top of the Grand Cheddar Walls of Blartertown, his feet slowly sinking into it as he kept moving along it while glaring out towards the Pipis Citadel. It was time. Time for him… to take it all back…

Chapter V — King the Grimace, Pt. I

General Shane Dawson was laid to rest a few days later. It seemed that shitting himself every time he saw King the Grimace, he all too quickly dehydrated himself & was reduced to a desiccated mummy & blew away at the lightest breeze. The newly purported General Keemstar had returned from his campaign, having taken Arizona, Tejas, Kansas & Oklahoma!

“Yeah, this is some bullshit, your Majesty! I go to Kansas & there’s no dust in the wind & barely any wayward sons! I go to Oklahoma & there’s no wind always sweepin’ down the plain! I go to Tejas & nothing is big! I go to Arizona & it existed & was horrible & dry & hot!” Fuck man, this is a waste of my shitting time, ya ass!” King the Grimace beckoned a motion & his word was known, “You got it, boss! Mexico will retake Arizona & Tejas as they should get the get get goopady gam go!”

General Keemstar stopped having a stroke mid-sentence through his orders & walked off, recovering quickly to let President Blue Demon, Jr. (of Mexico) know of his victory within. In the ensuing madness, Governor Pete Ross of Kansas, Governor “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Jr. of Tejas (son of the famed “Million Dollar Man” Steve Austin, Sr.), Governor William Scott Goldberg of Oklahoma & Governor “Superstar” Billy Graham of Arizona were captured by General Keemstar & given to President Demon, Jr. to serve as deterrent against the RSA’s natural ideals for reprisals against invading forces. King the Grimace stopped & leaned on his throne as he thought deeply & roundly of his past…

He was different as a child. The Hamburglar had used some unknowable fast food alchemy to create the Grimace’s immortal golem body, constantly hungering for delicious triple-thick shakes (despite being made of them as well.) For years, he & his numerous grabby arms that grew from his body would plague the McCheese Administration. Sheriff Big Mac & local hero Ronald McDonald could never quite get their hands on him or his smiling, chuckling master. It was only when his naval counterpart & the greatest thief of Filet O’Fishes ever to be known, Captain Crook, arrived that the Hamburglar’s days were numbered. Captain Crook had arranged a meeting & the two greatest criminals of McDonaldLand soon shook their two hands together like the Mega Powers had so many years ago. It was just at this time that Sheriff Big Mac kicked the door in & beat the Hamburglar viciously with his truncheon until he was spitting out teeth & they were surrounded by McDonaldLand PD. It had been a complicated sting led by Capt. Crook himself, who had offered to turn McDonaldLand’s evidence for leniency. Before he could be released from custody, however, he was shot in the stomach during the path to trial by former associate & night club owner, Mac Tonight (soon exiled to the Moon for his crime.) The Hamburglar would be executed by Sauce Drowning & finally ended his reign of food-theft & related terror. The Grimace had watched it all and, unable to cry, unable to do anything by smile & watch, grew silent forevermore, stricken with a fury inward and most destructive. He would vow to himself never to speak to his new captors. Even then (& despite the common public belief that he was of a “simple” mental faculty), he was given the role of Treasurer of McDonaldLand, a position he resented greatly.

In a period of unknown time, he would wander to the Hi-C shores of McDonaldLand. Through the vast Sierra Mists, he would see people standing among it. Standing in the distance. And they would all look just like he did. He ran out into the tastalicious seas, only to soon find himself on a sugary island once again. A grand green Grimace stood, approaching him & spoke in what would now be thought of as an incredibly offensive Irish accent. The green one told him he was “Uncle O’Grimacey, the Golem of the Shamrock.” Soon, his other counterparts would meet the Grimace upon the mysterious & terrifying Grimace Island:

• Agent Grim-Ice, the Golem of the Arctic Orange

• Dr. Grimace, the Golem of Nog

• The terrifyingly off-white pale form of the Pumpking, the Golem of the Spice

O’Grimamcey explained that they were all created by the Hamburglar, but each of them were either too smart to follow orders (as he was) or too foolish & incapable to actually steal anything (Dr. Grimace didn’t even have arms!) The Grimace smiled helplessly & reached out to them, whispering for the first time in years.

“Is there any hope for us?”

“It cannot be found. This Island only appeared once ever twelve years until now. Without the alchemical knowledge of the Hamburglar to sustain us, we have nothing. The portal through the Sierra Mists will never open again...” O’Grimacey muttered.

The Grimace knew now so much of his heritage, of his family, only to suddenly find that they were all gone. All of them. He turned around to the others & found them dissipating, waving sadly to him into the Brigadoon-flavored Mists…

Chapter VI — The Archduke of the Skate Park, Pt. II

Sliding down the Grand Cheddar Walls of Blartertown though, Beaglesaurus’ punk pants were completely ruined as the cheese floated against both of his techno-organic legs. Flying was probably the best idea, but Beaglesaurus wasn’t thinking like someone who wasn’t an idiot. Finding his pants had become completely invaded by cheese, he screamed in horrible shock. These pants had been something his family had last given him before… the accident. He rended the refusable pants & walked away, his ladybug-print boxers flapping back & forth in the wind. Oil tears streaked down his techno-organic face out of his techno-organic ducts, leaving a very easy to follow trail back to him. As he did, he met his contact inside Blartertown, Baka Matsu. She throwed exactly one entire table out of the window & eated exactly one entire chess pie as she screamed the good news at him.

“Your family! They’re not dead! Everything can be healed! The past can be corrected! Papple Apple Dumpling Doop!” she whined in a high-pitched squeal.

The oil tears fired out like ineffective bullets onto Baka’s shirt as he found that the new pants in Baka’s house had become completely unstoppable. He found the horror that he had always suspected: he was too dummy thicc to use these pants & would have to embark on a sub-quest of magnificent importance: to find a decent pair of pants. His quest first led to the local Burlington Coat Factory as he discovered, in a display case of glimmering beauty, there was the first & greatest of Smexy Leather Pants, glimmering even in the glimmering light. Beaglesaurus’ eyes dragged towards it along the edge of his smile. The single clerk there asked if he had any help to need, only for Beaglesaurus to stalk away from him on his techno-organic legs to the underwear section, which had happened to be nearby, coincidentally. It was very clear what had to & certainly must be done. The clerk… would have to die. He opened a pack of Princess Celestia underoos & snapped the first pair over the clerk’s head with a first loud SNAP, blinding the fool who had dared to challenge him to this world of professionalism. He snapped a second pair of brief overs of the clerk’s head with a second loud noticeable SNAP until he fell over & gasped himself to death against the Queen of Equestria’s pale equine form, now that of a pale rider for him. Yeeting himself appropriately from the nearby window, he slipped the unstoppable leather pants on & threw that ass in a circle as he pondered on his… tepid… past, not knowing that the pants only made him look all that much thiccer still…

Beaglesaurus’ family had always been a happy one. His father, “Jumbolicious” Lobstersaurus, was a Foreman of Engineering Insurance Accountants at Business Factor and formerly the President of a Bank. His mother, Alyssa Owlsaurus, was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no man, but loved her husband all the same. She would constantly intercede in the local political affairs & would become Comptroller of his home of Neo Oakland (in American Neo-Ontario) when she wasn't busy with her main occupation of being a Professional Heavyweight Wrestler. He had three sisters who were all skilled in their own special ways. Swordsaurus was known as the “Kendo Queen,” Bagelsaurus was the “Baroness of Chess” & his youngest sister, Hope, was really really good at tetherball, four-square & an unstoppable menace when it came to the realm of low-stakes cricket championships. Lobstersaurus was just one day away from retirement from the workforce &, in ordnance of celebrations to be had, purchased a needlessly large & seemingly unsafe industrial fan, dressing the rest of his family in their most magnetic & ferrous clothing.

Beagle, though, had a date with Coda Aria that afternoon & he was totes ready to dip on important family celebrations in order to get his hand on Coda’s fine fine upper arm in a soft, platonic manner that would solidify their burgeoning friendship into an intimate relationship built on pure trust & understanding that would show what a likable person he was, & how obviously clear it was that he would qualify according to all forms & paperwork that he was the dopest boyfriend material in the world. His tongue slowly & utterly slid into Coda’s mouth as they began to actually make out a bit, slowly kissing & also smooching, even at the same time. Turning back to look at his house, he was astonished, broken & mildly dyspeptic as he found his family, now a pile of viscera scattered against the far wall of his childhood home (He hadn’t yet earned his adult home, because he hadn’t unlocked the New Game+.) Thinking of his seemingly dead family, he thought about them & how dead they probably were. How could they not be? What sense did that make in this world that was always both highly realistic & sensible? How could it be even BE possible that they could’ve survived being wholly eviscerated into tiny clumps of red spattered against the side of their parlor like a gruesome Grand Guignol stucco?

Chapter VII: Shitty Tim, Pt. II?

Hearing about the death of Beaglesaurus, which Beaglesaurus had said out loud at the top of his lungs & also about five feet away from them, Shitty Tim was in almost no way changed as he watched him in full view fall down the Grand Cheddar Walls, forcing way too much cheese into all of his pants. Before either Chuck and/or Coop revealed their enigmatic, delicious & healthy offer, Randy Savage, Jr. did eighteen entire backflips & flung his hat into the stratosphere, soon breaking the gravity well & becoming the official Third Moon of Earth: Randy Savage, Sr.’s Hat.

“I have cried tears of sympathy for you & have suddenly realized that the only true, loverly & brotherly & professional thing for me to do is to let you go. They deserve you, Shitty Tim… no… Justin,” he said moving closer to him until all of their human chests were both touching. He whispered into all of Justin McElroy’s voluminous wig, “Run to them...”

Before he could run to them though, Chuck & Coop reappeared in the New Smirl Family Helicopter (which now ran on the far less dangerous hydroelectric power) & landed it squarely on to Randy Savage, Jr.’s hilarious & terrifying spine, shattering it in twenty-seven places. Justin groaned in confusion once more as Dr. Sydnee Smirl emerged & grabbed him by his singlet, body-slamming him into the helicopter & then back out again as she unloaded a Perfect Radiation Healing Chamber, popping it open to reveal its contents: a glut of sunflower seeds & grapeseed sheafs to absorb the ambient green glow of Shitty Tim’s artificially-irradiated ass.

“You never did figure out how gamma radiation truly worked, did you Justin?” she asked, removing his mask to reveal Former Vice-Vice-Vice-President Justin “Hoops” McElroy, “Fourteen weeks in this Healing Chamber will keep you from exuding dangerous radiation & killing us all! Soon you can be a father again! And a husband again! And not… whatever this shit is! I don’t mind the wrestling but… I mean… come on,” she said, making a very convincing argument that Justin would be sure to get ridiculously loved around. Beaglesaurus soon ollied off of Randy Savage, Jr., skipping the delicately-placed entire hydroelectric helicopter off of him. Touching by his burgeoning, robust kindness, Randy Savage, Jr. explained his own origin story in a dramatic soliloquy that everyone was rather nonplussed by.

Chapter VIII: Randy Savage, Jr.

The year was 1989 & Dustin “Dusty, the Common Man” Rhodes had rejected the advances of his manager, “Sweet” Sapphire, who had grown completely in love with him along the road to the stupendous WrestleMania VI. Dejected, refused & lonely, Sapphire would take the bloodstained money of the Million-Dollar Man to leave Dusty forever at SummerSlam. She would soon find comfort in the arms of the coolest dude in the biz, Sylvester “The Junkyard Dog” Ritter. Their blustery night of heavyweight passion would birth Randy Savage, Jr. until Sapphire found she couldn’t keep up the illusion that this was Dusty’s child, even if it was the only thing she truly had ever wanted for herself. Thus, the Macho King & the Sensational Queen Sherri “offered” & the child was taken in by the heels, raised to be truly evil & would become the son of the Macho King until he was dethroned at the following SummerSlam.

“And that’s when it happened. I went to take a shower & got a letter… from the Dog! My friend, Chuck, was keeping it away until I smashed him in the abs & snatched it like a hard weave. Sorry to hide this from you, Justin. It was… from my mother. My mother was Sapphire & he was… the Junkyard Dog. She gave me this picture of him when she was really sick. I was nine years old. They say that they loved each other & they were oiled & really happy. But when he finished military duty with Sgt. Slaughter, he left. And we never saw him again. Whether he was dead or alive. I sent a couple letters to the War Department and now… this...” he finished.

Beaglesaurus hadn’t expected this amount of pathos from such a tertiary character, but applauded that that was well-established throughout & had a lot of personal backstory, which he guessed did it indeed make it rather dopalicious.

Chapter VIIII — Travis

Beaglesaurus ground sweet-hot kickflips onto the rotors of the moving helicopter, riding along the blades back & forth like a badly programmed Tony Hawk move. Building up enough speed as it took off, he shot himself out towards the Punderdome & crashed brilliantly into the pyramid of Travis’ office, breaking his cape into eight separate but eternally grateful pieces. Travis began vomiting until his floor was profusely coated in refuse & bile. The Superior Teresa smacked him on the chest until he stopped & threw a vape bomb to escape in a puff of dat thicc cotton. Stepping forward, Beaglesaurus wiggled his entire ass & grabbed Travis’ mustache by both entire ends of it & whipped his arms in violent, speeding circles, ripping the facial hair fro his otherwise commendable face. He let out a sharp EEK & banged his head against the wall quickly for fourteen minutes. In his madness, Beaglesaurus stepped in & painted his nails a less interesting pastel yellow & Travis fell to all of his knees, soundly fedeated.

“All I can offer you now… is your family. I know where they are. I can show you. In exchange, please do not kill me! Spare me & spare the Punderdome & Blartertown cannot refuse you!”

Beaglesaurus shrugged both of his entire shoulders up & then down aggressively as his lips twisted into a purple vortex of less understanding, “How can this be? Explain yourself, you inert fandango!”

Travis put on a mortarboard & wheeled out a large, preprepared chalkboard with diagrams he could point to with a long retractable pointing teacher’s stick, “You see, the problem is that the model of industrial fan your father purchased was vastly unsafe due its lack of a front grill & also its deadly speed & sharpness. However, its main point of recall was that it would teleport its users to a pocket dimension from which the entrance is unknown & replaced their bodily mass with a huge farty explosion of Smucker’s Brand Delicately-Squeezed Raspberry Preserves!

Chapter X: The Archduke of the Skate Park, Pt. III of III

Beaglesaurus gasped so tepidly that Travis’ incoming bodyguard, the inimitable Mr. Fuji, was suffocated & fell to the ground, clutching his throat & pleading noiselessly for him to stop before dying. Travis held a key out & offered that the portal to his family could be opened with it & that he would also offer him a generous amount of cash he had on him (which amounted to Ch15 [cheese dollars {the currency of Blartertown, ya know} pegged to the Mongolian Tögrög].) Beaglesaurus reached to grab his wallet with his hand out of his rear left pocket in order to put the money inside of the wallet. However, as he reached inside, instead of his wallet (which was left in his cheesy pants), he felt a familiar grasp. His mother hand held his own hand & he broke out into oil tears, dashing the salty liquid across the cheesy Earth. Beaglesaurus’ family emerged from the ass-pocket of his pants & he hugged each of them in a way that showed that he very much loved them all, since they were his family (whom he loved.)

“I never knew… My real family was just one pair of pants & one brutal, senseless murder away,” he cried, cryingly.

They all forgave him for his crimes, because it was all for the greater good of them being in Beaglesaurus’ life again. Travis cried in turn as tears whipped hard out of both of his human eyes against each wall like those daisy sprinklers you had, when you were the dopest kid on the block.

“Here, take this needlessly complicated & verbose map of Blartertown in order to find my sweet baby brother & 30 Under 30 Media Luminary Cyber-Griffin McElroy. You must stop his chaotic march to control the world & spread his cheap-ass cheesy lifestyle to the world!” Travis meandered.

Just then, an elite member of the Brie Guard coalesced into his office & gave him a short memo that read as following:

“Oh fuck, Justin’s been kidnapped by his wife & kids as well as your Superior Wife!”

After he finished scanning the paper with both of his entire human eyes, Teresa, who was looking over his shoulder to see when he was finished reading it & also narrating it whisperingly into one of his entirely human ears, specifically yanked his pants down around his ankles & smashed her ass into his face from the side, clobbering him into the wall. The New Smirl Family Helicopter appeared in the window as the rotors violently smashed into the building, threatening to kill them all. Teresa jumped into the Helicopter as Beagle’s Loving Family jumped into the Helicopter too, waving at Beaglesaurus.

“We’ll be safer out here, son! Be sure to remember that we’re your family & that we love you! We will be hiding in the Smirl Family Vault in the Federated Rhode Island Functionary Collective!” they said, together, in unison.

Beaglesaurus nodded noddingly & understood the sacrifice they were sacrificing to be somewhere safe & also away from all of this mess. It might have been more than he could control at this point & he wondered if the Wecht Administration had planned this all along to keep him further under his deadly, murderous thumb…

Chapter XI — King the Grimace, Pt. II

“Whoa man, what’s the big deal? All I did was say I didn’t like the taste of Panera Bread’s soup!” General Keemstar scoffed defensively & ridiculously as he was handcuffed and forced to the ground in disgrace.

He had been arrested under new “legislation” of their latest meme & his words were deemed “racist to ducks” (the hottest new meme showed a picture of an angry duck & relatable top & bottom text that would apply to no one, since the caption would imply that ducks find many common things “racist” such as, but not limited to, the following: hammers, roast beef, the color blue, mountain ranges, the current administration of the Commonwealth of Guam, &, of course, criticizing the status quo of mid-end sandwich sit-down restaurants.) This was punished by a slow & painful death & he was soon executed via the common Memetic form of capital punishment: Being fed to the unquenchable McNugget Buddies.

Soon enough, he was replaced by General Muscles Glasses, accompanied as always by his interpreter, Grand Vizier Harley Morenstein. It became quickly aware they were too disinterested in military action to actually continue the war fronts, instead creating a machine that would create infinite meats. However, this meant also that none of them informed King the Grimace that the Leader of Blartertown had declared war on the Meme Kingdom to return Mr. Cool ICE to the throne (despite him having drowned after eating the sperm whale from the inside out.) Within his quarters, King the Grimace stared out at the Meat Miracle Machine, which was gestating ominously in the middle distance. He sipped his vanilla-shake mixed bourbon & stared further before he threw the glass out of the large open space where a window should be, but wasn’t. As it struck Ashens, killing him instantly, King the Grimace thought of the past again. Of how he showed all of McDonaldLand… How it all burned to ash around him, the only creature to survive its cleansing scourge. The virulent land was now seeped with McDonald’s Black Coffee dripping from every dead mouth as he watched it all burn to the ground. The land razed though, he found himself unable to remember his origins or his true ambition. It was when he walked the ocean floor to the mainland, he found society once more. He wandered for years, unknowing & docile. It was only when his triple-thick interior was replaced with Queso Blanco that he regained his senses & stood tall to become the King he was always destined to be that day. Even now, the thought of if he was truly meant to be the Immortal King of the Meme Kingdom. The Meat Miracle Machine deposited a giant pork chop into the Missouri River, halting the ever-important riverboat economy & killing hundreds. Thinking on how this may secure his victory by starving out the Americans, for now, made him flash back to his dark, criminal past once more. How his reign of madness had truly started…

The Grimace had been brought along to open a new McDonald’s in Acton Township, ND. Seeing his opportunity, he pushed Ronald into the gigantic, novelty-sized, but perfectly functional meat-grinder. As the world’s least-threatening clown was ground into meat, everyone cheered over the screams of the children as the Grimace stood by, stoically smiling. He thought on the nature of man & how this was cruel of them, not realizing that it was all real & not some stunt or joke from him. That the clown was dead & would never return. He doomed them all thus to their cruelty, not to realize the actual truth though of it all: Humanity isn’t cruel, just really, really stupid.

Epilogue, Pt. I

Blartertown’s borders stretched once more, revealing the secrets of Tennessee to Cyber-Griffin. He had 29 entire days to conquer America or stop conquering America & he meant to use them well. Thus, breaking down the gates of Graceland, he found his newest source of power, the Tiny Cape of Shazam! Formerly, the Rock King Elvis has worn this cape & had been given his infinite powers of sexuality & entertainment, but after it touched President Nixon during a meeting of the two, his powers were immediately revoked by committee decision. The Tiny Cape still held the power, but the King could use it nevermore, the horror of such truth in having done so driving him recklessly to drugs & to a late grave. Donning it, he was not yet immediately considered unworthy, but knew it could run out at any time. He supposed it would at least provide him with one stunning blow or death-defying defense before its uselessness ran out. As he whirled back around, he found the defeated Governor of Tennessee, Kathy Bates, standing next to him with a chaingun, unleashing a cascade of bullets, shells raining into her hair & flannel top as she screamed at the top of her Tennessee-flavored lungs. Whipping himself ass-forward towards her, his unstoppable rear caught each bullet & they were subsequently picked out of the air & thrown away again at supersonic speeds. The Governor fell dead as the bullets shattered their way out again & into the Pitcairn Islands, finally recovering from the plague of perverts they had finally managed to exile to the nearby sandbars. The Pitcairns slowly sank into the ocean, never to even mildly inconvenience the world again. The sandbars soon followed suit.

Epilogue, Pt. II

The new Sultan of the Nor’east, Brennan Williams, was declared unanimously by every single citizen to be superior in all ways to Woolie. To celebrate, the largest portrait of the former Sultan was lit aflame, thrown into a dumpster & then the dumpster was fired across the border to Delaware, where it soon crashed into & destroyed Old Swedes Church & Nemours Estate. They were completely destroyed by this burning missile of disrespect, of which prompted Governor John Green of Delaware to become so upset that he wrote his newest book, the award-winning (yet controversially sexual) More Light than Heat about teens wanting to fire a dumpster into a famed landmark, but finding the real gift was friendship, sex, & hilarious similes.

Epilogue, Pt. III

Governor Thomas Banacek of Massachusetts picked up his phone & rang up his nearly identical cousin.

“You got Hannibal, the Colonel is busy right now…”

“There’s always time for me, isn’t there, John?”

“Ah, it’s you Tom! I’m already there now. The charges are set & me and the boys are ready to move in! We’d have kept Michigan if these bastards weren’t squeezing my plums with a set of pliers!”

“So what are you gonna do about it then?” Gov. Banacek confirmed.

“Well,” Lt. Col. John “Hannibal” Smith said, punctuated by an explosion behind them, destroying a section of the Grand Cheddar Walls in large portions along the border. He slipped a cigar between his teeth & smirked “Let’s just say this plan is coming together. Nice. And just to let you know, this one is pro bono. The A-Team is on the case and out of retirement!”

Chapter Text

Chapter IV: Rise of MeeMees

As DJ Mechagodzilla detonated, the Meme Energy inside him combusted in a violent, Memetic explosion, tearing asunder the planet of the Meme Confederacy. In all of one moment, it was all too aware to the terrified citizens of Oakland, CA, that their island home was approaching critical mass & was far too exceptionally dope. As King Charles Barkley stood tall above his throne, he was disturbed to find that, on our Earth, Scotty Pippin was jumping at the same time, leaping for a slam dunk to win the finals! Together, their bodies were fused into a mess of misshapen flesh, incapable of speech, save only for ungodly screams, & certainly lacking the wherewithal to govern to be sure. In the ensuing chaos, a scramble for the throne was soon to be held, but it was released like a hot potato covered in sulfuric acid. It was for all of fourteen minutes that King Larry Bird assumed the throne to declare the creation of the new “American Meme Kingdom” before he was shot point blank in his entire head with a delicious red-cherry ice bullet, courtesy of Beaglesaurus’ well-known German pal & chartered cool-guy assassin, Mr. Cool ICE. Finding he was too late to stop the merger that had happened so many hours ago, he took the throne himself with a relaxed shrug of utter suaveness. Nothing could be more meaningful than his sudden & ridiculously violent rise to power. Boxxy was soon named as his General of the Meme Kingdom, &, though President Jaleel White seethed with an unconquerable rage & a racing bout of IBS, the Meme Kingdom soon declared complete & entire secession from the Union, making the Meme Kingdom, first & foremost, an entity in and of itself.

Growing insane from the fury of losing almost a third of the island state of California, President White decided in his tortured mental capacity & semi-supreme control of the “Remaining United States” Government to disassemble the entirety of the Legislative Branch, altering it to a shape of his liking. This shape took the Senate to replace its two-person per state structure with the seemingly more reliable ideal of his four kookiest & craziest of room-mates: “Rubber” Ross O’Donovan, Barry “The Hammer” Kramer, Matt “The Pretty One” Watson & “Who Else But” Ryan Magee. Replacing the entire Lower House of Congress, Arin Hanson was named as “Speaker of the Entire House.” At his crowning as Speaker of the Entire House & Congressional Maven of the Big Man, Arin was soon overtaken by a pensive feeling that he’d definitely get betrayed by someone sometime in the recent future. This was probably because he was right about that. Banging his ceremonial gavel to announce this out loud on the now empty Floor of Congress while shoveling Almond Joys out of the Candy Desk into his frothing maw, Beaglesaurus erupted respectably through the wall face-first & then into the door, splintering it into many tinier pieces (splinters, you could say.)

“Shit man! You can’t alter the complex system of checks & balances that make America the land of the free & the home of the Impossible Whopper, now available at your local grocer’s freezer!” Beagle bellowed turgidly.

President White removed his shoes &, putting them on his hands, bellowed in repose, his anger making him angry. He started to groan into his own entire chest, thereby summoning his Cabinet of Space Wizards (formerly of the Space Wizard Concern.) As they raised their collective hands & wiggled their cumulative asses, a Curse fell upon Beaglesaurus, altering his already well-altered form into a cruel misshape of his Beaglesaurus Rex body: His arms & legs would remain human, but most of his upper body & head were made mechanical once more & his tail would stay remarkably available, forcing him to alter his pants from there on out. Whipping his tail violently into President White’s solar plexus, the President screamed like a freak & farted uncontrollably. Forever after then, the Gods of Dopeness (who had supported his campaign in their personalized Gods of Dopeness PAC) looked upon him with a head-shakingly show of disdain, their smarm becoming palpable in their shameful shimmering. Till the ends of his days it was decreed among them that they should totally super-fucking forsake President Jaleel Ahmad White…

Chapter Text

Chapter V: It Seems America May Have Fucked Up This Time

King Mr. Cool ICE of the Meme Kingdom opened his mail with his ceremonial letter-opener crafted from the withered remains of Joe Merrick as he received the incredibly dope ticket from his closest confidante (who was completely innocent of any and all crimes), Grand Vizier Markiplier. Looking at his sweet-ass ticket to das Oktoberfest, his eyes soon drifted back to Grand Vizier Markiplier, who smiled sweetly as if a halo were floating over his head. He picked up his consort, Lady Chica, & petted her softly on her adorable puppy-dog head. King Mr. Cool ICE nodded silently & handed his crown over to him. However, as his tentative fingertips slipped the crown over his entire brow, King Mr. Cool ICE unleashed his inviolable laser vision to etch the word REGENT aggressively into the crown in big-ass letters. Regent Markiplier frowned frumpily and this mild amount of demeaning activity outwardly denouncing his inferiority in the face of the entire Memetic Court! He cramped his entire face painfully as King Mr. Cool ICE took off, standing on the wings of his ridiculously tiny Starr Bumble Bee biplane, rocketing across the ocean to his get his crunk on mad intensely. Looking up as he wondered how long this flight just may actually take to reach his native Mainz, (in the old RP, Rhineland-Palatinate represent!) only to find that his tiny plane had landed inside an entire sperm whale.
Cursing loudly in his own native German language (German), he thought on how foolish of an idea it was to have named a Grand Vizier, since Grand Viziers are just always evil. Over the course of the next two weeks, the new Regent King Markiplier had General Boxxy executed when she tried on a stylish fursuit & found it was full of cement & beetles (though after donning it, TikTok's charitable home video service shut down entirely, having declared that nothing could be considered more entertaining in the world of microvideos, but also in shame.) Quickly, she was replaced by General Noble of the Lost Pause, beginning a reign of brutal dakimakura rending campaigns.

Soon, Governor Timothy Leary, Jr. of California was defeated in pitched battle as he was knocked into a pit of hot sauce, vomiting intensely & profusely when General Noble sprayed him in the face with silly string.

Soon, Governor Ken Jennings of Utah was defeated in a game of wits against the King himself… inasmuch as they had played a high-staked games of Risk & he was destroyed entirely when he was shot with a harpoon gun while trying to move artillery into Kamchatka (King Markiplier had already failed for not using the obvious Yakutiyan Turtle Technique)

Soon, a similar high-stakes game of chance ended much similarly against Governor Daniel Ocean, Sr. when King Markiplier beat him to death with a roulette wheel after finding the craps dice were not very capable when it came to the Nevadan pastime of walloping & that the keno screen was too large for him to lift with his bullshit asshole arms that made him look like shit.

Soon, Governor Aaron Paul of Idaho was soon assassinated by having a tank driven over himself his mother, brother & the Governor himself, shoveling Pops into his mouth while screaming incessantly about how everyone in the Meme Kingdom was, indeed, declared a bitch. For a while, this would thought to be the most hilarious of bon mots & was printed on the cover of Bartlett’s New Quotations for Shitheads.

Soon, King Markiplier would take a relaxing visit to a GameStop on Cooper Point Road SW & bought their biggest Imitation Buster Blade. The clerk assured him it was quite heavy, but probably not dangerous. He was quickly proven wrong when King Markiplier used it to pick the lock on the door of Governor of Washington State Dale Cooper’s home & then pushed a pencil through his entire human left ear, killing him instantly. Had he been awakened, he would’ve surely shot him, but this is the price to pay with the ease of unstoppable comfort you get with a Casper Mattress. The sword broke into tiny pieces when he was finished with the door.

~~~~~

Facing a world of being embarrassingly beaten to death by a man with rooster-colored hair, Governor Jon Jafari of Colorado soon decided to heelturn the entirety of the Remaining American Government & its infinite freedoms available to the few, the proud & some minute amount of others, taking a greasy, padded knee as King Markiplier marched freely across his land. Wyoming, having a complete & utter lack of anything or anyone in it at all of any use, resource, likability or even charm, it was taken with a wholesale shrug by all involved, President Jaleel White & the pallid faces of the Wyomingites included. Governor JonTron licked a giant sea-salt cucumber-shaped ice pop in his own personal warehouse container as he looked within the clear prison to its singular resident. Inside, residing in the now residential sculpture of icy pain, FBI Director Leigh Daniel “Danny” Sexbang, shrugged in a pose that Governor Jon had said was definitely going to be hilarious before he threw him into the back of a semi-trailer to haul his ass across the border to the Meme Kingdom. Only forty-seven minutes later, a pair of jars would arrive in the White House & the Meme Kingdom Castle. Inside each one was an uncommonly disturbing amount of barbed wire. Speaker Hanson was given the jar in Washington as he sifted through it until he found the message within, clearly made to mock him entirely:

“180,000,000 Mexican Pesos will be brought to the kola nut stand behind the Zellers in Alberta’s premier place of human entertainment for people, Big Valley Creation Science Museum, truly a monument of the inanity of man, wouldn’t you say? Otherwise, Danny Sexbang will remain buried in a secure location beneath Banff National Park. It would take something of inconsistently overpowered nonsense to release his sexually frightening power otherwise!” (It had read.)

Well enough on its way, as soon as Director Dan was sealed in his warehouse container in the discrete site in Banff National Park, Governor Jafari would suffer a fatal heart attack trying to drag an 8’ tall gnome statue (while making a joke about how he was the gnome in this equation!) Though a genial note card from President Jaleel White soon reached Canadian Prime Minister Jim Carrey, he still obstinately refused passage for the American exploratory parties to enter Banff to look for the disappeared Director of the Federal Buttwad of Investigation (as Danny had renamed it, hilariously.) PM Carrey would soon write back:

“You cock-witted fuck peddlers think you can annex the province of Neo-Ontario & then ask for anything from ME?!? You’ve got a lot of nerve, tit-cakes! Get your dick-watch & your asshole-wallet out on the floor & turn your face in for rejection at the fuckhead recycling plant!” (It had read.)

Another, less kind card, was handed to PM Carrey with no listed name. When opened by the Prime Minister with both of his entire hands, a small portal appeared & piss exploded into his face. As the stream of detritus ceased its forward motion into his hilarious face, the newly crowned Sultan Woolie of Quebec, Newfoundland & Labrador guffawed as a gigantic onion-shaped turban was wrapped around his dramatically excessive head, “Eat shit, dumbfucks!” he announced, “WE’re leaving & you can’t do shit to stop me! Oh you didn’t know? Then somebody better tell your ass!” His entrance music would play loudly until the note comically exploded in PM Carrey’s face. PM Carrey turned for what & unleashed a spit-take of piss strong enough to entirely drown American Ambassador Donald Sutherland until he died from drowning in piss. In his palatial estate atop Questlove’s former vacation home-house, Sultan Woolsworth Weatherspoon Jedidiah Henry Armadillo Madden, Jr. snickered, since he’d made sure he wasn’t going to be going anywhere for a while…

~~~~~

Coda & Mei soon appeared in front of Beaglesaurus & dumped his now almost-completely normal skateboard into both of his human shins & shook their heads in frustration.

“But wait, are you two saying implicitly now that you didn’t want to keep your bodies fused together with a skateboard?” They nodded, because it was indeed super fucking dumb. Coda glared her eyes like daggers directly at both of Beaglesaurus’ eyes to make sure he understood that she was saying something important & that he should use his brain to pay as much attention to her in that moment as he could possibly strain to do.
“I’m going to the Moon so I can have a four-day+ vacation from all this hot dogshit, my life needs space & normality so I can contain the unholy power of the Vriska hiding inside my own human spleen.”

Thus, she yote herself into the atmosphere of our dopest celestial lifemate satellite. It was at about this time, the Space Wizard Cabinet decided would be the best time to fuck up life as much as they could:

• Secretary of the Interior Strongbeard the Wise grunted as he scented his ears & twisted his nose
• Secretary of Agriculture Wisebeard the Strong groaned as he stuck all of his hat inside his own teeth by force
• Secretary of Defense Marmaduke Cassowary the XVIIth smarmed loudly and whipped around in circles as he moshed against the others like a one-man mosh pit (aka, just being a huge asshole & shoulder-tackling others)
• And all the rest cooed loudly & kicked their legs like an offensive chorus line of idiotic whooping dipshits.

As they did all this, each touched a finger to their Sidereal Etch-a-Sketch, belching in a well-rounded protuberance as the axis through which the Moon itself was erased where the big craggy line had been drawn across it. Eventually, it naturally started to crack & split, tear & rend, & other synonyms for breaking things they should’ve been smart enough to not fuck around with (you know, like celestial bodies.) Coda stood in shock as she saw dozens fall in a space-ravine forming between the Moon itself as it tore itself in two, a faultline of horror beneath the famed "Blue Area" of the Moon. Groaning & cringing at their unfortunate, cringeworthy attack, she shouted to the skies as the uneven parts would soon form into Old Moon, the Moon Belt, & Moon-imōto. Coda was trapped on Old Moon at the time as the Moon Lacrosse Team duckfaced aggressively at each other to find who they could possibly shove all the blame of this on. In the end, it was decided this was the work of Vriska III & the persecution of Mei Queso Yāzuānlíng. She became Public Enemy# 1, upsetting Chuck D & Flava Flav, who slowly decomposed into moans, screams & also moans, having lost the mental energy required from the public to keep them alive for so long, along so many generations of their true Funkadelic Respectitude.

Chapter Text

Chapter VI: Everyone Blows Up EVERYTHING!

Griffin McElroy hit the save button & leaned back in his rolling chair, then hit the release button to release the final episode of their final Traveller RPG Podcast, The Adventure Zone: Zanzibar!, as he chortled happily to himself. He slip his chair all the way from his editing room (where he did all of the really good editing, you know!) into his kitchen. Naturally, his two incredibly wacky brothers (i.e. his eldest brother, Justin “Hoops” McElroy-Smirl, & his middlest brother, Travis “Get Out of My House” McElroy) as their father, Clint “Mac” McElroy narrated their daily happenings, harkening back to his days working for the coolest iHeartRadio station in the Huntington, WV area, “It seems that Griffy is going for some appie slices. Is he going to be getting out the peanut butter? The caramel apple dipping sauce? Perhaps some kind of butterscotch? It’s too soon to tell. Yee-Haw.” He knocked back a Necco Wafer from a tall sleeve of Necco Wafers, he kicked his legs aggressively as Griffin opened a cupboard with his entire arm and most of his left hand. As Clint stopped eating the Necco Wafers, he poured himself a glass of milk to swallow them, finding them surprisingly hard to chew today for some reason. Griffin leaned his head back & smirked as he moonwalked over to Mac & farted directly onto his stomach as Clint suddenly fell over. Justin leapt to both of his feet & ran over to him as he punched him in the stomach, the closest he’d heard about the Heimlich Maneuver (the Sawbones episode about it was going to be that very same bee) & found four nickels dancing out of his father’s sweltering maw. Travis got up next and powerslid hard on his knees, burning them on their shag carpet kitchen as he splashed water on his Daddy’s face, hoping it would revive him. Instead, the three noticed with some amount of regret that Clint McElroy had suffocated from not breathing enough air so much that he was dead!

Justin looked at his father’s hand & found that he wasn’t eating Necco Wafers so much as a $5 roll of nickels & they all shook their heads in dismay. Their only living father was now dead & they were forced to confront this all at once. Together, they decided that something would have to be done to rectify this: They would find out where this roll of nickels came from & then kill the nickel-makers! Gassing up the Smirl Family Helicopter that Justin borrowed without “express” permission from billionaire richman Tommy Smirl (his father-in-law,) Justin started their miniature quest for vengeance. The three decided the first & most obvious place to fly their nuclear-powered super-copter would be the place where they presumed all money would come from… Greenland!

“It’s where all the Green comes from!” Travis agreed, noddingly.

“I can’t believe they’d do this to us! We’ve supported money from the very beginning! Haven’t we always respected & loved money for how much it helps us?” Justin asked, filled with an inconquerable existential fury.

“Well, maybe the Clown Box was a bit much...” Griffin opined thoughtfully while thinking about it, “Like fourteen people died during that last incident, oof...”

At that similar moment, word of a nuclear autogyro aggressively gyrating over the capital of the RSA, the Space Wizard Cabinet pooled their remarkably idiotic powers & teleported the entire White House to Detroit, completely defiling Book Tower as it fell over & several small children cried at their most faved Detroit monument having been destroyed by the friction of stupid assholes from the future & also from space. The McElBoys took off farther for Greenland as they fired some discount photon torpedoes at them from their perch above the Washington Monument. This proved to be a hilariously stupid idea as all it did was use photon torpedoes to accidentally annihilate the Province of Retro Scotia (renamed after the terrifying natural earthquake that tore original Scotia to the ground…)

~~~~~

Meanwhile, in a completely unrelated, but also salient area, local goofball & lovable scamp Jack Septiceye landed from the Full & Complete Republic of All of the Ireland on a sinking rowboat, drawing seaweed out of his eyes to observe the fresh new land of Grand Rapids, MI. With barely a few dollars in his pocket & nothing more interesting than a mystical Genie’s Lamp he bought from a spindly Jimmy he met somewhere south of the Hudson, he tugged his busking trilby back on his head & picked his pet hog, Thomas Edison, Jr., under his arm & listened up to hear the kooky hot news! With the White House having relocated suddenly & destructively to a whole other part of the country (& one almost in his neck of the woods even!) he felt like he could surely find his key to victory there! Thus, he sauntered his way all the way out to the capital Detroit where he met then current Governor Bosco Albert Baracus of Michigan & shook his mighty hand. Since he was at least partially foolish, ol’ BA felt it necessary to pity him & showed him into the Detroit White House to meet President Jaleel White.

“And how may I help a plucky, cloying young man like yourself?” President White asked as he intrusively shoved most of his fingers into Jack’s mouth to inspect his teeth, not unlike one may do when purchasing a horse as he shook his head in mild dismay.
“Well, top a’ the mornin’ to ya! My name is Jack & I want to be a Remaining States Senator!” he announced as soon as his mouth was less occupied by a pushy politician’s pudgy phalanges.

Despite the fact that he had purposefully altered the entirety of the Senate to be served by his four wackiest roommates, President White smiled & patted Jack on the shoulders until they started to bruise & spake:

“Well, we have just the job for you! You see, lately, the Senator of… where did you say you came from again?”
“Grand Rapids, Mr. Presents!”
“Well, the good Mr…. Guy Incognito… of Grand Rapids has just retired as Senator, leaving an open position just for you! Let me get you some Senatorial stuff!”
“O-Kay!”

President White then tucked a fountain pen in “Senator” Jack’s pocket, put a tricorne hat on his head with a ridiculous ostrich feather adorning its toppest top & just scribbled some lipstick all over his face, then laughed uproariously for seventeen minutes straight. Naturally for himself, Jack just smiled & dazed off into the middle distance, ever the pie-eyed ragamuffin of the Great Lakes State.

The McElBoys floated down on their parachute with Justin holding one brother each under an arm as they shook their heads sternly, “It seems we miscalculated somewhere...” he said as the three watched a mushroom cloud of nuclear hellscape in the far distance, the shockwave having shoved them just south of Ferndale as they shrugged:

“Well, I think technically we did destroy the means of production & that the American dollar has dropped significantly! I thought the Mint was that place with the expensive spaghetti!”
“That’s Cheesecake Factory, Travis” said Griffin as he vaped his way to the ground carefully, “Well, we’ll have to go back to our old jobs then! I’ll review video games & practice the dark arts! Travis, you can talk to people about manners & be the fanciest man in America & Justin… you can be the muscle!”
“Griffin, have you looked at me ever in your life? What part of you thinks I’m the muscle of the group? Travis is way stronger than...”

“No! Not the ‘muscle,’ the muscle!”
“Griffin, I don’t get what you—”

“The Muscle”
“Oh, well it is capitalized now, I guess it’s a thing? Is this a thing?”
“I think it’s the best thing!” agreed Travis amiably as they landed softly on the Royal Oak Towers Senior Living Center. As they laughed for a good while, it still took them another seven hours to get down after they found it didn’t have rooftop access without a key. It was quite the vexing conundrum.

~~~~~

Back in Grand Rapids, “Senator” Jack Septiceye evicted Comptroller Guy Incognito from his own house to rein as the true “Senator” of the city (thinking that that is almost certainly a thing that people do & how the government works.) Drawing out his magical Genie’s Lamp, he vigorously tapped it with a jeweler’s hammer until he found that the inscription on the side was in Arabic, reading:

التوقف عن القيام بذلك ، أنت الحمار الحصان

Unknown to even him, this read “Altawaquf ean alqiam bdhlk, ‘ant alhimar alhisan” (“Stop doing that, you horse’s ass.”) Eventually, he gripped it in one hand to huck it out a window & the spirit within emerged in his unnecessarily gaudy glory. Within was a beastly being with rippling intense muscles on all of his entire body. He rubbed his massive biceps & breathed out a deep breath of hot sparks into “Senator” Jack’s face. “Senator” Jack, naturally, was completely nonplussed, picking up a pickle & biting into it placidly.

“Hallo! Top a’ the mornin’ to ya!” he said, staring at the monstrous whisping spirit of air & fire in his room.
“I be Equius Thunderbolt, Jr. the most powerful & muscular of all genies! You are given an exact & precise amount of wishes which is to be one, as we must know! Who could tell you any less than such? Most give out three, but my wishes are just so damn strong, you can only handle one!”
“Are you evil?” “Senator” Jack asked, biting into his pickle again before he dipped it in a bowl of Concord grape jelly & started slowly brushing it into his teeth.
“Djinn are beyond fallacious human ideals of good & evil. We merely are. Your choice is what defines the nature of your wish & the results you attract to yourself! You can’t expect more than such madness!”

“That makes sense! I like the Moon!”
“Does the Moon have something to do with your wish of me?”
“I think it does!” he said as they stood still for several minutes (except for the genie, who couldn’t stand because he didn’t have legs.)
“So… do you wish for the Moon in some capacity?”
“Yes!”
“You have to say. That’s how Genies work! Are you just this thick-headed, you absolute dummy?”
“Probably! O-Kay! I wish that… some of the Moon came to me here in Grand Rapids! We could have our own piece of the Moon to hug & be really nice friends with!”
“That is probably the most senseless & idiotic wish I’ve ever heard. Would you like to revise this or make any amount of change to the complete lack of specificity to this wish?”
“Nope! Sounds great to me!”

Thus, a salvo of the Old Moon’s surface cut itself free & rocketed to the city of Grand Rapids, Michigan, tearing large pieces from the Moon-imōto, sending them hurtling to Grand Rapids, wiping it completely off the face of the earth in a meteor shower that looked pretty damn cool from roundabouts the Greater Wisconsin area. There was much applause. Governor Rich Evans stopped midway through his rewarding of the Blue Ribbon Prize to the fattest hog in Fawcett City, Robulah, and watched, clapping with both of his white-gloved hands and then started lifting his top hat off of his head, then putting it back down, repeating this in an expression of zany surprise! He was so surprised, he slipped and fell in a puddle of butterscotch and much laughter was had. “Senator” Jack Septiceye was dead & the people of Holland & Muskegon & the rest of Kent County flailed their arms in majestic terror. A healthy amount of sofas had managed to escape the raze of Furniture City & were wealthily rewarded for their bravery in helping the beer escape & reimbursed for their time & money. The river of River City, was not as fortunate due to it being a river (Of course it can’t move, that would just be nonsense!)

Seeing this as an opportunity, Pres. Jaleel White sent agents under the orders of CIA Director Rick Flag, Jr., through all of Flag's gritted teeth with both human jaws & threw a mug into the wall as he ordered his Self-Homicidal Squads to track down Mei Queso Yāzuānlíng, still sealed in a meditative giant crystalline Twinkie on the African Serengeti inside the Ngorongoro Conservation Area in Pepsi Presents New Zanzibar. The Twinkie was soon returned to American soil & tied haphazardly to the Apollo 17 cruiser shuttle with bungee cords to send her into exile on the Moon-imōto. Seeing this in a televised national alert on his Windows Phone, Beaglesaurus flipped absolutely all of his lid. He thought she would return when the power of the Vriska was under control again. That he had one person left to hold onto. But… now he didn’t. Once more, his life was violently & brutally torn apart, but this time mostly emotionally & not physically because life isn’t a particularly physical item, but the sum total of ones experience, something more difficult to quantify or measure than the infinite expanses of space! His hand touched his Windows Phone screen as he quietly told the second girl he’d ever loved in his entire life (except for all the parts where he didn’t & when she wasn’t there or he forget she had existed) & looked upon the televised mad laughter of President Jaleel White. He knew now that the New Evil Government would pay for this. In cash and with change.

Chapter Text

Chapter VII — Moon-Shoes-A-Go-Go!

E

In his Old Moon Palace, the Ombudsman of the Moon, Lord Frederick Alex “The Super Shockmaster” Ottman chortled excessively as his Moon Guards dawdled about like haphazard dipshits (which they were.) The Giraffe charged forward, carrying Coda sidesaddle towards the splendours of the Palace, wherein the Super Shockmaster of the Old Moon heard soon the reports of the invader coming to his mighty fortress. Unfortunately, due to the almost complete lack of actual weaponry & actual people on Old Moon, the defenses weren’t so much low as nonexistent, barely palisades of wood, little more than a fence really. The Giraffe plunged through this palatial trimming with ease, his gallant hooves trampling the soft Petmoonias and Azalea Bushes therein placed. The Super Shockmaster geared up his non-copyright violating helmet by pulling it from its glitter bath & shoved it on his head. He charged out the door, but forgetting he still had his dog-gate up so Shockmaster, Jr. (his adorable French Bulldog) would not run out onto the Moon (though it was terraformed by then, it was still pretty cold at night and no one should leave their dog out in the cold, even on the Moon!), he tripped over it, sending his helmet flying off into the depths of short-range space. Due to Old Moon’s newfound size, it’s escape velocity had significantly dropped. Anything stronger than a relatively strong running start or a bicycle ramp would send one into the depths of space itself were they not too careful (as the “Just Put on Some Iron Boots” Act of 20X7 had yet to be approved by the Moon Congress [a similarly one-man affair run by John “Earthquake” Tenta, Jr., who had attained too much of a heavy center of gravity to be troubled by such worthless ideas as “weightlessness”])

The Super Shockmaster grumbled in the voice he stole with his magical amulet from Ole Anderson & grunted angrily as he spoke loudly at Coda.

“I am gravely disappointed! Will you not listen to reason? Are you intending to take over this wasteland? I am no happy man being ruler of all of this wasteland! What a foolish plan! Look around you! This is the value of your plan! Nothingness! The Super Shockmaster, who has absolutely no relation to the other Shockmaster, will not let you go about this madness! No more games! I suppose you are here for a purpose! If you will not just walk away then… have at—” he began, only to get whipped in the stomach by a stampeding Giraffe’s neck as he was flung viciously by this powerful quadruped into the distant skies of the ether, knocking him into the depths of space itself, once more…

Thus, Coda Aria inherited the true title of Ombudswoman of Old Moon, its errant & powerful leader. In the glory of her empty victory, she felt edginess begin to course through her veins, making her pumping blood demand that she turn into Vriska the Second. Gritting all of her teeth together, she squealed like a sharp-mouthed fool-person & whipped her hands around in circles to keep her arm attached & her eyes not as glasses. Her hand began to lightly bleed from one of her palms as she swallowed her emotions & the feel to become a dangerous Homestuck began, once more, to ebb.

However, on the Moon-imōto, things were not as stodgy. The God-King of the Moon, Mac Tonight, former night club owner & lounge singer who, having escaped justice for murders untold, came to the Moon before its destruction & unlocked the true power of the Moon after slaying the native Mooninites guards with his Saxophone of Anguish. Only now, after the the Second Scourge of the Moon & the Grand Rapids Moonfall, he began imprisoning his rivals & building giant terrariums to house what residents remained on the Moon-imōto. Mei, having embraced (for now) her power as Vriska the Third, she summoned her mighty Trident & speared the God-King of the Moon from behind, betraying the trust he had absolutely none of in her (having never met her before), she roared as her gang of Moon Bandits rallied around her on their moon-cycles as he fell into space, much like the Super Shockmaster himself, never to be seen again…

Back on Earth, the Goose known as Janus Friis’ body laid on the cold dark streets of Memphis in a gutter, dead. Or at least dying, that is. Raising a wing, he pecked a small red button hidden in his pinion feathers, lighting up a giant green lightbulb on his head, strapped around his neck, blinding nearby itinerant fellows nearby & irritating other street-dwellers & sewer-wonders. Despite its brightness, the proximity to nothing at all made it much harder to without any $cientologiest ¢hurches nearby. After twenty-seven minutes, he exploded, but unfortunately, someone was already sent out from the ¢hurch to investigation this possible murder. This was difficult, because there wasn’t anything left when he completely & utterly exploded.
After fifteen days & nothing actually left there at all, $cientologiest Investigative Deacon-Detective Will Smith was shipped out from his summer home in Reno, Wisconsin, to track down the missing Friis.

“Ya know, Motifa, he was my original partner when I first joined the ‘Charitably’ Self-Generous ¢hurch of $cientologisms. That means accordingly to the expensive & nigh-inscrutable doctrines of our made-up bullshit religion that he is my blood-brother & that I have to find whoever did this & murder him with this ceremonial Rusty Machete!” the Deacon-Detective said, wildly brandishing his rusty machete into the alleyway as it smashed into the brick, peeling sparks everywhere as people ran screaming from him. He looked mildly frustrated as always.

His partner, Motifa, was an alien robot from the planet Fatbla in one of the farther corners of the Universe, known formerly for her dangerous & violent rampages in Los Santos, smacking planes out of the sky & massacring people with beehive hairdos, thinking they were her dread enemy, the Eastsans. Her true potential was unmatched, but smashing her in the head with a hammer daily seemed to “sedate” her of her more terrifying urges. Motifa shrugged so powerfully that it soon created a hard cold front which created a blizzard in the midwestern area of the Iowa Territory (No one is known to be Governor or Mayor of this unknowable wasteland of agricultural fielding.) Will Smith nodded sagely & groped himself in public, upsetting local derelict folk. Later that night, at the Last Highway Hotel, Will stuffed eighteen Hebrew National Beef Franks into his mouth & screamed into the all of the air around him. Motifa grunted into an air vent, then inhaled a rat from within them through the screen. Motifa’s head turned around a complete rotation, settling into the painful amount of shoulders she had to address him.

“You know, I have some bad news for ya, Will Smith!” she said as her ass began to crack through the floor beneath her, destroying the ancestral home of the protected species of the Memphis Mole People.
“What is it Motifa, my most cherished ally & occasional illegal life-partner ever since Jada Pinkett-Smith abandoned me to fly back to her hometown of Marrakesh, Morocco to fight very confused Houthi Rebels?” Will Smith asked, over-explaining her role in life & in this literary masterpiece.

Motifa began forcing coffee into the single-serving coffee machine in her hotel bathroom, accidentally throwing the toilet from its mooring into the house of Governor Kathy Bates of Tennessee, upsetting her entire collection of small animal statuettes & murdering the captive form of Scott Caan she had handcuffed to her radiator (in a complicated combination of practical joke, memetic referential humor & a love that defied morality & the modren legal system.)

“Well, Will Smith, this is gonna really bum you out, broski, but… you’re actually the real Will Smith! You were born one Willard Carrol Smith, Jr. in Philadelphia in the year 196X to Caroline Smith, a school board administrator, & Willard Carroll Smith, Sr., a US Air Force veteran & refrigeration engineer who divorced in the year X000, over several years ago. You have an older sister Pamela & two twin siblings younger than you, Harry & Ellen! What’s more, this means that you are definitely not Robot Will “The Fresh Prince” Smith after all, the five time Golden Globe nominee, twice Academy Award nominee & four-time Grammy winner known for his now outdated, but then phenomenal rap hits!”
“Dear Lord Whatever Our Main Deity is Named… You mean I was not the main character in such wonderful films as Men Who Wear Black Suits & Fight Aliens, Fourth of July Invasion by Aliens or even The Legend of Vagger Bance?!”

“Yeah, basically, dumbshit!” she said, growing tired of talking about him as she began squeezing the coffee itself into her cup until it was reduced into a semi-drinkable liquid from her ultra-frictional hand movements while maintaining villainously intense eye contact with the lowly Normal Person & Not Robot At All, Deacon-Detective Will Smith.

Motifa began drinking the “coffee,” despite being a robot, & the caffeinated sludge sunk slowly into her saliently sparking mainframe, sizzling & saucily sauntering into her ability to process rational thought. Internal timers that had been shut off for constantly & seemingly randomly blaring loud intricate cacophonies of noise during ¢hurch business meetings. Out of her left armpit printed her final conclusion on who the killer was…

“Hannibal Amir Buress”

Will Smith shook his entire head in dismay & confusion as he walked outside into dramatically appropriate rain as he looked directly at the camera & shouted angrily. As he ran outside into the rain to find Hannibal Buress, late nite second banana on the famed Eric André Show, Motifa exploded, finally ending her glorious & horrifying reign of terror once & for all.
On the set of The Eric André Show, host Eric André (of the late nite comedy variety parody show The Eric André Show,) was being strapped into a jetpack that would hilariously misfire, sending him into the audience & rip off his wig to reveal he had shaved his head yet again (in a recurring joke where he would “accidentally”“rip” off his “hair” on other parts of his body, like his armpits, eyebrows, eyelashes & then finally pubic/groinal regions, to reveal that he shaved them as well & were merely covered with embarrassingly color-inappropriate wigs.) Hannibal was toking on the world’s tastiest spliff of piff as he saw uninteresting normal person Will Smith smash through a Japanese screen-door & begin ululating to the heavens. Drawing his hand out, he slid it along the palm of his hand to spill blood, summoning the Octagon inside which all $cientologiests fight.

“Oh shit, is this happening?” Hannibal asked, mildly surprised, as years of exposure to Eric André’s humorous madness had dulled his ability to feel genuine amounts of shock, anger or fear.
“Indeed it is!” Will Smith replied, normally, since he was merely a normal mortal human person, “I, the Fesh Pince Human Will Smith am here to avenge the death of my blood-brother Janus Friis the Goose, who exploded like… last Tuesday due to unforeseen circumstances!”
“How’d you know? Dang, I thought it’d take you like four more weeks,” Hannibal said sarcastically, not having a damn clue what Will Smith the Normal Person was talking about.
“So you admit to your crimes, eh?”
“The only crime was seeing your dumb ass in After Earth… and fucking up I Am Legend… and lackluster action film Gemini Man… and when you were a horrible person in Shark Tale… and when you were the world’s most embarrassing superhero in Hancock… and Lakeview Terrace...”

Forgetting that he wasn’t actor Robot Will Smith, he pointed out, “Hey, wait, I wasn’t in Lakeview Terrace, that was star actor Samuel L. Jackson!”
“Yeah, but you produced it... It was just cheap bullshit that made cops look like violent murderers, setting up a disturbing amount of confusing & disproportionate tone against the fact that the heroes of the film were free-thinking liberals who would not fall into such narrative stereotypical traps, even if it was in service of the further,” he took a deep toke, coughed for one entire exact minute, then took a breath & continued, “demonization of traditionalism & the dangerous nature of police having power over others that can be easily abused, even in a modern-day society.”

“True as that is,” Will Smith began, since despite not being famed actor Robot Will Smith, he was actually still producer of lackluster films as Lakeview Terrace, Hancock & a failed Annie reboot, “you are still found guilty by the ¢hurch for the murder of a $cientologiest!”
“Man, the fuck you talkin’ about? I am also a member of the Charitably Self-Generous ¢hurch of $cientologisms!” he said, revealing the secret button on the back of his arm that would activate his own green light bulb he had secretly strapped to the top of his head, “Why would I kill Janus Friis the Goose when it is clear that he is completely incapable of sound business ideals & therefore a complete waste of time to invest any time or energy in?”

“I know not!” Will Smith declared decoratively in a declaration of decoration.
“Well, I invoke the right of trial by combat, cause I know damn well I can whup your skinny, peanut-head, only makes a movie poster by staring directly at the fourth wall, won’t stop pushing your untalented child Joan Rivers, washed-up ass up and down this studio!”

“True enough… But can you back those words up?”

Hannibal took a moment to look something up on his phone & showed him a picture of an article about Will Smith wanting his son to star in a reboot of Static Shock, despite the fact that no one thought his pseudo philosophical rants & questionable acting ability would be represented well by putting him yet again on the silver screen. Will Smith screamed the ancient language of the Charitably Self-Generous ¢hurch of $cientologisms (Byelorussian) he chanted:

“JA aburany vami! Vy nie pavinny rabić drennych spraŭ! JA chaču pacalavać ciabie, alie ty sionnia vieĺmi niepryjemny!” (“I resent you! You should not do bad things! I want to kiss you, but today you’ve been very naughty!”)

Hannibal returned the chant as he drew his ceremonial claymore from under Eric’s desk as the cameras began rolling & introduced Will Smith as their guest, going beyond the realm of mere unscripted television to wholesale gladiatorial bloodthirstiness as the crowd & band began foaming for the death to come. In seventeen short minutes, the Fesh Pince Will Smith had managed to whip his machete askance the force-field around Eric André, making it hit Hannibal in the junk with a loud DOINK, meant clearly for comedic purposes. Hannibal turned to the audience & made a very funny face & soon began to bleed out. Tarnished severely from the battle, Will Smith got out the celebratory turpentine dranken by all $cientologiest winners of a trial by combat & began pouring it all over his entire general facial region, then taking a hard swig.

“That’s what victory tastes like, huh, bitch?” he moaned at the dead Hannibal Buress, enjoying the heavy chemical flavor.

As the barrier resealed to protect Eric André, Coda Aria, the Ombudswoman of Old Moon, crashed very rudely through the roof & the terminal velocity of her orbital jump managed to light a Denny’s receipt in Will Smith’s pocket lightly into a singe. Looking at the tiny char on the receipt, he thought for a few entire seconds before he realized that all of his face & shoulders were on fire.

“Ah, I… didn’t see you come in...” he said, tritely, before he fell over dead & began to succumb to the wick effect (not to be confused with the “Wick Effect,” in which older movie stars can come back by bettering themselves & being in well-written & heavily intense action films & reboot their careers.)

Aria, completely no-selling seeing two people die in front of her, walked over to a newspaper that stunned actual guest on the Eric André Show, the Resurrected Ghost of Marc Bolan (resurrected through Eric’s newfound hobby for dark necromancy) had held in both of his spectral hands.

“Oh teacakes, it’s the year 20XX now?! I’ve been gone from Earth for… only fourteen weeks?!”

However, what she didn’t see was on the back was a very small article from the Daily Washington News-Post Times-Sentinel where it showed the three goofy brothers, Justin, Travis & Griffin McElroy, three young lads who had now been personally elected by President Jaleel White himself to all three serve as new Vice-Presidents of the United States! (Ah shit, I forgot to mention that former Vice-President Alfonso Ribeiro died in a horrible boating accident caused by a big-ass shark biting him in half, but that was a thing that certainly happened, it was pretty damn dope.)

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII - Mittens for Kittens, Chapter I - So Long, Punderdome

At the very base of Pipis Citadel though, none remained. An empty shell of a bunker, filled with plenty of guns & arcane weapons that would’ve made for a pretty intense fight scene, but… nothing. Cyber-Griffin was nowhere to be seen. Even his beautiful Sanctum Sacrilegious was shelled out, leaving only a small framed picture of the Wonderful Rachel next to a small framed picture of Henry. All the hours of travel through the trap-laden byzantine tunnels led to an abandoned base. Above, Gov. BA Baracas was shaking down civilians, yet pitying all, before throwing them aside. If there was one thing he hated, it was milk. And what could infuriate him more than a nation built on cultured milk… Rageful, he threw another Blartertonian through a window & raged at the heavens, screaming out at the affront to nature. Sensing that shit was definitely going down, Travis looked to his Four Unheavenly Kings, the Generals that would defend Blartertown as he throw only his biggest & most resilient jewels into a huge ass chest & started attaching it to a large L-frame backpack. He donned a short brown fedora as the Four Unheavenly Kings nodded in agreement as he spake upon them. Below, the tunnels of the Pipis Citadel were flooded by a fleet of cement mixers, burying the hidden past of the cursed land of blood & death in the all-encompassing waves of tiny gravel & thick cement. Beaglesaurus picked up & got his ass out of that… and how!

“You fuckers take care of this! Whoever is the last man standing gets my job!” Travis said, hoping this meant that they’d be too busy fighting with each other to try to prevent his immediately immanent escape.

Luckily for him, the Four Unheavenly Kings leapt out from his pyramid office & Travis, his cape shattered & his nation in tatters, pushed a button on the side of the hat. The hat grew two large handles on either side for steering with bushy purple tassels on each end like a girl’s bike. From the top came four large helicopter blades that began to spin. He was almost worried that he would be probably completely deafened by this much noise as he flew off from Blartertown, never to see it again. Unfortunately for him, his left shoe removed his mask, revealing it was Face all along! The most handsome & roguish member of the A-Team shook violently at Travis’ leg, but all he accomplished was dragging a pushpin into his calf & making his pants fall off. Falling to the Earth, Baracas dove in to catch him as Hannibal finished setting the charges.

“Let’s boogie on out! If we’re anywhere near this place when it goes up… oof! That’s gonna be big mood,” the incredibly old man said, despite it being the damn coolest thing ever.

The four evacuated in their huge black, yet somehow nonthreatening van as Murdock smiled at them.

“Ya know guys, in this modern day & age, it’s shocking that this affront to good morals like Punderdome could even exist. The vast conspiracies behind such an edifice’s construction must go all the way to the top & I think even Former Vice-Vice-President Travis McElroy wasn’t the real brains behind this operation. Sometimes, I wonder if the very concept of American freedoms has been eroded by a government that is consistently either ridiculous in its new edicts or wallowing in self-destructive fatwas like the Kingdom to the west. I think, for one, that I want to do what I can to fix this system & bring back America, not the way it ‘used to be’ in the ‘good ol’ days,’ but a real sea change. Bring back representative government based on merits of diplomacy or even some form of parliamentary system. At this point, we’ve devolved to what is, by many means, merely a grouping of self-interested, poorly-guarded nation-states led by Governors of obvious power, but questionable efficacy. Hey, you guys, don’t you think that we should all try & work together to make America a better place? Make it better than the sum of its parts?”
Everyone stared at him in disbelief as Face removed the sunglasses he had been wearing the whole time, “Murdock, despite your usual amount of completely dogshit rants & conspiratorial nonsense. That is the most cogent, salient & well thought-out list of concepts & a fine criticism of the troubles of our nation this very day! I never knew you had it in you? Ya know, I think I am in on this! How do we start it all up?”

Murdock grinned widely, “Well, first I’m going to start by annihilating the Punderdome & starting a guerrilla war campaign, slowly picking off citizens of Blartertown in the means of power until one finds himself smart enough to surrender to us.”
“Well, how do you suppose we go about that? The Former Vaveep is long gone by now, how in the hell can we tell who’s in charge?” Hannibal queried inquisitively.

“Boys, that’s the best part. I’m going to just throw grenades out of the back door at nearby houses & scream in people’s faces until they give us what we want! I was thinking of painting my face red & starting a collection of human ears—”

“Walk it back, Murdock,” Hannibal offered as BA merely shook his head at his revolutionary ally as Punderdome imploded in a massive destructive blast, small bits of paper & also toxic drywall replacement settled in the haze where once stood the supposedly greatest arena known to man...

~~~~~

Meanwhile, two Governors were making a more strict alliance so as better to control their paths from the north. With the Meme Kingdom bearing down from the mountains to the west & Canadian Special Forces launching missile strikes from the north, it was only a matter of time before someone had to give. Thus, Governor Wiz Khalifa of the Doubly United State of Dakota took this meeting. Sitting across from him was Governor Vince Vaughn of Minnesoder (as it was renamed during the White administration,) who looked excessively tired.

“Look, I have some good ideas, we can put up a force field around our states at least to start with, which will help divest enemy fire,” Vaughn offered, trying (& failing horridly) to explain how it would all look with a Dixie cup & some assorted googaws on the desk in front of him.

Governor Khalifa merely shook his head & handed him a tightly-rolled jazz cigarette & Vaughn, knowing well that he would be offended were the offer of the sacred herb rejected. Took a hesitant puff-puff of it, having long been considered one of the hugest squares, making many wonder how or why he was elected, since he seemed to be constantly stressed, overstrained, out of touch, confused & generally just worn out. As he did, he passed the joint to his wife, Winona Ryder, who merely maintained constant eye contact with Governor Khalifa, drawing her black lipsticked lips into her mouth & chewing on them. She was not pensive in this motion, but intimidating, as if bursting with rage. She took dat sweet sticky icky icky & puffed sharply twice, reducing the joint beyond existence as it all but fumed out of being. Governor Khalifa’s eyes widened several entire millimeters at this display of dominant tokery. She finally opened both of her lips as she stepped up & walked to a cabinet. She drew forth a pretty sick water pipe. Not only was it three feet in length & had a sensibly rounded top (all the better to insert the lips compared to a pitiable normal circle), a carb with a soft rubber grommet that would make for easy movement, but not so much that it would easily fly out if tugged too quickly. It also had some wicked-ass tigers, elephants & octopuses fighting in epic combat glazed along the sides.

She handed it to him in her right hand, adorned itself with red glittery nail polish & small jewels pasted onto her knuckles & the back of her palm. Despite it being the forbidden & well-understood right-hand side, Governor Khalifa argued internally that this meant that Governor Vince had ended his inclusion in the rotation. His inquiring look at the status of what the fuck she was doing softened & he accepted it with a long nod. Packing more of that Jamaican air-freshener into the bowl, he clicked his fingers together to produce a small blue flame that nestled its scorching ass into the waiting receptacle. As his lips drew in to enjoy that delicious smoke though, he felt his mind slipping slowly away from him as his body was slowly slipped inside the water pipe and he was summarily sealed away, his soul now ensconced entirely within this new glass prison. His body promptly &, understandably, collapsed. She soon overturned the bong, spilling the freshly imported Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani brand water onto her “husband’s” foolish pate as his form began to softly disintegrate, falling to bits of dead skin & blood that floated away. The homunculus she created to serve as her ruling fist in the north. She removed the slightly middle-aged mask that she had similarly created with her dark powers. She was not truly Winona Ryder, merely playing as her due to an uncanny resemblance. Thus, the Necromancer Superium, Lydia Deetz, stood triumphant as she laughed majestically in having defeated the one stepping stone of a person between a pact of agreement with the Meme Kingdom. She had no intention of letting them take her land from her & was more than happy to let them march through the wastes of the Iowa Territory and she would sit back comfortably in a large, warm chair and sip mead with her secret combination of impermissible mulling spices.

However, so frantic was she in searching Former Governor Khalifa’s Magical Kuchen that fueled his dank powers off of his now soulless husk of a self, that she didn’t notice the door behind her opening, revealing a dread figure with stark white skin & pallid hair, decked out in black & white stripes.

“Hey babe, time for the ol’ Persephone Gambit once more! Real shame that I tore out the last two months of my calendar. I guess it’s time for your cohabitation,” he said, his gristly voice smearing into her ears.

Naturally, it was her lawfully wedded (& highly unholy) husband, King Betelgeuse the Only, eating an entire bowler hat for digestive purposes. She turned furiously towards him as she sighed out.

“Damn it! I had time! It was foolish of me to think you wouldn’t take advantage of the contract’s loopholes. I didn’t realize that you would just alter the flow of time relative to yourself to make my life all that much more fucking difficult, you deadbeat shithead!” she said, blasting him with necromantic lightning.

He merely belched mildly in her face & his jagged fingernails caught snares harshly into her poncho & started to drag her off her feet into the depths of the Netherworlds once more. As she screamed that she had so much more to do, the door slammed behind her. The title of Necromancer Superium, now vacant, soon set to right itself as the crown of black flames fell now to the second-most perpetrator of the dark arts. This, unfortunately for forces of the north & most other people, was found to be the Governor of Most Forgotten Alaska, Bill Alexander, Master of the Oil Paint. Screaming in Teutonic ecstasy, he was imbued with the power & picked up a giant kabuki brush, dipping it into a lake of black paint to smear it across the countryside, burying the state in an even longer eternal night. Bathing among the moonlight that now forever above him, he reveled in what he was soon to do. It would be only three days until the abandoned states were assimilated most provocatively into the Meme Kingdom as well…

~~~~~

Elsewhere, in the Mexican city of Tijuana, barkeeps looked pensively at the four former American Governors: “Superstar” Billy Graham, Goldberg, Pete Ross & “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Jr. had escaped political prisonhood in Mexico City, their celebration of their own foolhardy, expensively-depicted & intricately told tale of perseverance & willpower led them to the path that some humans fall to. A cop looked down at the collapsed Governors & stuck a breathalizer in Goldberg’s jagged maw. It just displayed 99.99% & he supposed they were probably dead by now. This was quite the coincidence, because they were.

~~~~~

Beyond the Grand Cheddar Walls stood the only ones who deemed they could defend the North from invasion by the lurid, melty East Coast & shook all of their heads in disappointment & disapproval. Atop the Grand Cheddar Walls stood the Four Unheavenly Kings as they leapt down in a dramatic fashion like one does in a superhero movie & a small crater appeared under three of them (Kevin Hart was small enough to stand on General Caliendo’s shoulder.) Among their persons were the following fighters of faith & harmony & the Bespoilers of the good name of dairy products everywhere:

• Governor Sarah Silverman of Neo Hampshire, who could turn her body into pure silvery energy

• Governor Thomas Banacek of Massachusetts, who was just a hard-ass with a heart of pure Polish gold, wielding a nice big polished black mahogany ass-beating stave.

• Governor Thurston Howell V of the Federated Rhode Island Functionary Collective, who had the power of money, able to either pay his opponents to simply quit, sue them until they had to quit or slicing them with specially sharpened bills he prepared ahead of time in his palatial lounge.

• Governor Dr. Daniel Anthony Torrance of Vermont, the world’s most powerful psychic, known for his powerful ghost-busting adventures & his tightest blue one-piece swimming costume (well provocative indeed it was!)

• Governor Stephen King of Maine, who people just assumed through his inherent spookiness probably had some kind of secret powers. He was just so spooky!

• & Governor Christopher Lloyd, who could use his Time-Watch to created time-displaced duplicates of himself from hours into the future!

• General of the North Jay London was something of a beast in the form of man. Hunched of spine & hair like bear wore he. Yet despite his ample size & his bestial nature, it was truly his humanity that was the most powerful of his weapons. He was merely able to talk his enemies into giving up, into feeling too sorrowful to fight or otherwise losing the will to carry on. This infectious depressiveness spread not unlike a disease from the short murmured apologies from his simian visage.

• General of the West Frank Caliendo was a bulbous orb of a fellow. So intense was his girth of size that he began growing to alarmingly tall heights of 7.8’ tall! Using this unstoppable amount of height, he soon trained his doughy form to withstand all punches, which he learned from watching Kung Fu Panda on repeat over the course of a blaringly cold summer at Lake Tahoe.

• General of the East Jeff Dunham was of mere strength & few useful powers, but could create that which spread terror! Not only were his automaton creations unnerving in either their demeanor, facial expressions, complete lack of racial sensitivity, general ugliness or unnecessarily violent or intolerant attitudes, they were also puppets. And nobody likes puppets. (I mean, really think about it. Has a fully-articulated hand-puppet ever not been creepy? Think about this, won’t you? Thank you)

• General of the South Kevin Hart was the most subtle of the Generals, inasmuch as his main powers dealt with him being unnoticeable. Despite his semi-constant fury & chips that seemed to be embedded in or at least heavily adorning both shoulders, it was clear that his presence was found lacking. People did not notice him! He was unable to be spotted in crowds or recognized in lineups. He would go unheard when questions asked slipped from his lips. It also didn’t help that unless he ate his mystifying pack of peach chips every 77 minutes, he would begin shrinking almost uncontrollably due to a lab experiment that he encountered as a child.

As they looked upon each other, talking shit very quietly and mostly to themselves, they began to charge towards each other. General Dunham tripped in a furrow in the ground & ate shit facefirst into a pile of mud as his puppets charged ahead of him, wielding tiny knives like in that one movie that is pretty damn trash. Governor Silverman zapped through four of his 16 puppet minions & started rending them apart with her electric haircut as Governor King kicked some in their heads, which caved in relatively easily. As it had turned out, unless puppets have things like uncanny strength or the element of surprise when coupled with tiny weaponry, they lacked true fighting power. Governor Torrance smarmed his way across the field as he removed his turban dramatically, proving that he was a psychic by putting all of his fingertips to both of his temples & making an uncomfortable face that made him look like he was either concentrating very hard or passing a kidney stone. All of his concentration proved to be little to stop the raging juggernaut that was General Caliendo as he barreled towards the New Englanders. Governor Howell stood next to General Hart as they discussed financial terms of surrender quietly, General Hart having been more or less disinterested in the new guy running things in Blartertown anyways. After taking a fine check made out to “cash” for $700 & the hottest new PS7 on the market, Kevin Hart kicked him in the shin, making Howell whisper angrily at his honestly predictable betrayal. Governor Silverman’s body flashed towards General London & start flinging electric zaps of thunder into his ankles as he mildly complained about it.

“Ow...” he muttered, “You know, you don’t have to fight me. I’m not even that great a General. I don’t order any troops or anything. I think it might be an ornamental position really. No one gives a rat’s ass anymore. You won’t see me again, this is a waste of time for all of us. You can get that. Look at me. I’m not that big a guy. I’m not good at this kinda thing. My stocky build & having a glass right eye don’t help either. I’m bad at fighting, I’m not good at discussing terms. I get distracted easily and…” after a long pause of looking at a particularly interesting cloud, he regained himself, “I mean, you get the point.”

Governor Howell threw a saw-bladed sawbuck into his shoulder & he muttered another quiet apology for his complete lack of any physical capability. Governor Silverman turned back to normal, smacking him on the collarbone as she muttered back to him.

“I’m from Neo Hampshire. I don’t talk to many people that I don’t know well. A great day for me is overcast & where I don’t need to answer the door. Social interaction is one of the worst things in existence to me & I power through it to smile because I have to. You can’t get me down cause I’m always depressed on the inside!” she said before she screamed into all of General London's ears and he fell over like a wet leaf, sliding into the mud as well.

General Caliendo squawked in a harsh ire as he started throwing bricks he was carrying in his completely unisex purse, groaning as Governor King started walking slowly towards him, almost purposefully slow! Governor Banacek solved the puppet problem by caving the generally ineffective General Dunham’s skull in with his ass-beating stave and they fell over.

“Just like they say in the old country, ‘You can always have what she’s having, but sometimes it’s just a turkey on rye that doesn’t give you overwhelming orgasms!’ My mother would tell me that almost every night before bed…!” he noted in stoic wiseness.

General Caliendo squeezed his entire head as Governor King had started telling him a story about how he probably had some kind of spider serial killer hiding somewhere in his arms as Caliendo shouted angrily in fear & jumped backwards, smacking his head into the Grand Cheddar Walls. Governor Howell started shoving razor-sharp rubles into his maw, damaging him internally as he, for some reason, swallowed all of the money, instantly killing him! General Hart had disappeared & they generally stopped giving a shit about him being there.

“Well, I guess we really showed those stupid pieces of shit, huh?” asked Governor Lloyd, dusting his hands before he put them on both of his entire human hips.

~~~~~

The border of Manitoba had torn lightly like a piece of paper as the terrifying Governor of Neo-Ontario, Abdullah the Butcher, started grabbing Canadian soldiers & Special Forces members in the thick ridges carved into his forehead during his years of fighting for his life in the ring.

“Come down here from your Ivory Tower & fight me, Big Head! I’ll smash you! I’ll crush you! Hangings too good for him! Shocking is too good for him! He deserves to be chopped up into bits or buried alive! Come down here & fight, damn you! One of these days, I’m going to cut you into little pieces!” he bellowed as he charged at the might that is the Millennium Library, the door doing little to stop him as it opened, automatically.

Prime Minister Big Head emerged from his Ministerial ball-pit, a small fin on the top of his head like a shark’s as he smiled viciously at the Northernmost American Governor. As Abdullah began wrapping his hands in athletic tape & putting boxing gloves onto both of his hands. He picked up a second pair & threw them at Carrey’s conveniently Big Head. The green-faced fool ruling the north slipped them on as he started sliding a hand behind his back to stuff fourteen horseshoes into his left glove. Abdullah started subtly wrapped a piece of barbed wire around one glove behind his own back (since he had more than enough space to fit such misdeeds.) In his right glove, PM Big Head started stuffing poisonous darts that split through the exterior in a way that barely was anywhere close from a complete lack of obvious. Abdullah responded by just replacing his right glove with a 15^th Century knight’s gauntlet covered in sharp spikes that had been welded on to the knuckles specifically. They stood together & put up their well-weighted dukes. Abdullah spat acid into the Big Head’s face, but all he did as the bell rang was gargle it around & smile a now toothless grin before more teeth just shot out to replace them as he made a strange noise while shifting his jaw left & right.

Abdullah decided to throw out all pretense of this foolish madness & smashed his head into the Prime Minister’s & growled with jabbering jowls. The folds of the deep scars of his head squeezed against the Big Head’s nose, pinching it shut as veins started sprouting on his head & neck, almost spreading into his shoulders as he roared wildly & reared his entire head backwards, shouting to the skies. The mask started pulling from his face as his green flesh morphed to stretch against him, but the grip of his cranial furrows was far too meaningful & important. He looked to the fourth wall & expressed:

“Eep! Looks like I’m up Shit Creek! Good thing I brought a paddle!” as he produced a huge oar from his pocket & began smacking the Sudanese Butcher on the sides & thighs with the oar, jabbing it at his boots & trying to chop at his neck.

Due to a multitude of chins & years of experience, his neck was nowhere to be found as Abdullah shrieked & rushed in, grabbing his waist & delivering a violent German Suplex as PM Carrey was flung halfway across Manitoba to Thompson. Loki’s cursed countenance flang itself to the far reaches of America. Landing in the primal tundras of Alaska, a parka clad figure drew it up & he picked up the old wooden visage.

“This is quite what I have loved to see. First, the wand of Odin! Now this! Ha! The Necromancer Superium wins once more! You stuffed shirt bastards thought you could throw me up here! I will not be balked by the frozen wasteland! The permafrost yields to me treasures untold! I will show all you damn freaks what you missed out on!” Governor & Superior Necromancer Bill Alexander crowed around as the mask fell from his hand, drained of its powerful magic.

The power of a god now sprouted into his uncontrollable body as he went to his local bursar’s office & filling out all the appropriate forbidden paperwork, dark energy seeping from his fountain pen as he filled it with ink once more. As he walked farther out to the border of British Columbia, he crossed through the mighty fortifications by merely making a ghost stand in the middle of it & then walking through it. Presenting the papers to Premier Carrie-Anne Moss of BC, she inhaled hard enough that she was no longer required to pay taxes for the next eighteen years. This was a problem that very soon remedied in the first place though as, as the papers reflected, British Columbia had been legally altered through the power of dark magic to being retroactive of 197X to being part of Alaska, yielded willingly by then Prime Minister “Rowdy” Roddy Piper, much to the shock of everyone, because it had never happened until this point of the present. The Queen’s Representative, Lieutenant Governor Hugh Laurie was aghast as he was promptly carried over the border of the new “state” of “Alaskolumbia” & dumped overly ceremoniously into Maple Creek over the Saskatchewan border, after a five-day trip of being carried on a palanquin wrapped in nettles through the wasteland that was now Alberta.

Prime Minister Carrey, now devoid of his Norse powers, was soon arrested in the Northwest Territories trying to barter with the Inuits to escape on an ice floe & was soon sent off to exile on the expansive area of Baffin Island, but to the small area of Nanisivik, where he was sentenced to a life of making cakes, pies & other goodies for all the good children of the world (occasionally distributed by the Baffin Island Commerce & Recreational Committees.) After a snap election, Prime Minister Bret “The Hitman” Hart took over & began drawing up treaties with the terrifying spectre that was Governor Alexander as the Second American War’s Canadian theatre shut down, leaving only the new Prime Minister to deal with his newly-owned Remaining Provinces of Canada.

~~~~~

An eternity away, Cyber-Griffin had left Blartertown some time ago onboard a leisurely first-class seat on Spirit Airlines to the purported last sighting of the mysterious land of Marguamitaville under an assumed name that no one could believe (and few could even stomach,) leaving behind perhaps the least qualified man in Blartertown to run it. Originally, held as a “Mayor” of sorts that no one took seriously & whose authority was generally, if not entirely, ignored & occasionally, actively ridiculed in public & sometimes in private (mostly by his own children and local children that broke into his house to mock him.) This sad sack of a supposed comedian, Kevin James, was now named as Generalissimo of Blartertown & unsanctioned regent in the now sudden disappearance of all McElroys. The death squads began working out to attack the populace that once scorned him. It was an odd bit of what some call “irony” that the squads were mostly led by cruel local children, as he had well-learned that children were the most cruel & least willing to think of the consequences. Cyber-Griffin left him only one direction to his rule:

“Don’t you fucking dare go in my secret room. To make sure that you don’t, I pulled a Jerry Coleman & made a key for it that is several tons too heavy for your fat, dumb ass to lift, so quit being such a fuckup & if you DO get in there, don’t fucking touch anything

Yours in Christ,
Cyber-Griffin McElroy”

This was promptly ignored as Gen. Kevin tried his best to lift the impossible key, which Cyber-Griffin had also super-glued to the floor for good measure. Cyber-Griffin was sure that if he could manage to complete eviscerate Jimmy Buffet, he could stop his cure from reaching Florida & eliminating his army of completely nonsensical madmen with which he planned on a full take over of the RSA, which he saw (as highest-ranked former Vice President after Pres. White) as “his” semi-specifically.

Along the border between 'Bama & Florida, a technologically advanced wall & system of locks, bolts, & many other things that are far too complicated to explain (One of the doors required a badger to be present, and willingly, so you’d have to have a trained badger. I mean that’s just a labor in and of itself!) Thus was created by 'Bama’s Governor Hank Green… the Jericho Initiative, poor of conceptual name & great of power, gunning down the occasional Florida Man who tarried too close to the mighty steel & titanium border or tried to chew on the neck of the guards below. None made it through & none of them would ever again. With a heavy & forlorn head, Hank shook his entire head & tears poured into his glasses as he thought of what had to be done.

Beaglesaurus knocked on the door of his grand stone temple as the Arbiter of Truth floated in repose within. As he stepped in, his coat fluttered dramatically in the breeze, softly dancing along the wind. As further movement progressed him farther within, the Arbiter of Truth removed his entire hat & set it on the ground next to him. Beaglesaurus reached his hand out to him.

“Dog, you’ve been the man most knowin’ on all kinds of shit. You’re the one who can control it all. You take the world & make it right. I come to you with merely a query of what is where & how shit be. I need to find the island known as ‘Guam.’ Where is it?” Beaglesaurus implored, intelligently.

“You search for something that no longer is. ‘Guam’ is a name dead for months now. The island has been renamed as ‘Marguamitaville.’ This is as true as my love of enormous posteriors.”

“Right you are, man. Well… cause you’re always right. That’s… rather the point, huh… So, I guess the deal is where is ‘Marguamitaville?’ I understand that its location has been lost to history ever since the Congressional Hall of Records went totally tits-up with the rest of the DC.”

“Correct as well. I have the coordinates & I can write them down with you. I will accompany you as well. This is true,” Sir Mix-A-Lot said.

“As true as your love of the fattest of asses?” Beaglesaurus opined aloudly.

“I like them. And I cannot lie,” he agreed.

“You were the greatest Mayor that Neo Oakland ever had. I both respect your ability to lead a city & your reasoning to leave office to devote your life to ascetic meditations.”

Beaglesaurus smiled as Sir Mix-A-Lot floated on crossed legs out to the auto-gyro, which Baka Matsu was flying for them. Looking at the directions, Baka shook her head & started turning off the rotors of the auto-gyro as she shouted over the slowing din of their spinnings.

“YOU’LL HAVE TO TAKE A PLANE THERE, THIS ISN’T HELICOPTER-SAFE!” she shouted, loudly.

Beaglesaurus gave her one entire techno-organic thumbs-up & they all traveled to local Thunder Bay International & got three third-class tickets on Delta Airlines, the most triangular of all airlines. Aboard their flight, the flight attendant was gruesomely rude & seemed not only willing, but intent on spitting on passengers, tossing sand at small children (even when silent) & the only movie they had was Nothing But Trouble, (a disturbing grotesque “comedy” which is basically Texas Chainsaw Massacre with Chevy Chase.) Beaglesaurus, his tail getting stepped on purposefully & with stomping rage, decided enough was enough as '80s street toughs started moving down from first class & outdated greasers started appearing from the economy section.

“Seems like there, eh, wasn’t enough leg-room. Maybe we oughta… cut off your legs, huh?” one greaser asked, whilst chewing gum. Naturally, all the other greasers laughed.

The '80s street toughs flexed their big biceps and pulled out mildly threatening switchblades & started making ridiculously hammy faces. One of the greasers walked over to Beaglesaurus & bumped his shoulder into him with meaning.

“Oof!” he said as he fell over entirely onto the hallway, “It seems that you ran into me and completely shattered my shoulder! I think that my weak perseverance is gonna keep this kind of wound from healing and you’re gonna need to pay me a ton of money or I’m gonna sue you for damages! I’m very seriously injured, ya know!” he said before he died from the grievous injury, foaming at the mouth.

With little room to maneuver, Beaglesaurus whipped his tail around behind him, accidentally cracking one of the street toughs in the head as he began screaming & bleeding out. The others backed away tentatively.

“Whoa! This isn’t worth the trouble! Rolling people on discount bullshit airlines is too much!” one of the greasers said as he & his gang, along with the street toughs, moseyed on out of the door as they fell onto the tarmac & began also dying instantly.

Beaglesaurus subtly accepted that airlines were usually this bad as they soon landed in Marguamitaville. At that very exact same bee though, Cyber-Griffin finished his eccentric mojito as he disembarked, having defeated a similar group of '40s gangsters & '90s punks that had formed a pile of dead bodies under the motorized stairs. Cyber-Griffin leaned out the window of the car-stairs & threw his mojito glass at Beaglesaurus’ head, smirking as it smashed against one of his techno-organic cheeks.

“The time has come! It sounds like it’s just the right time to get my revenge on you for destroying my beautiful nation of wonder!” Cyber-Griffin chortled, angrily.

“I didn’t blow up shit! I got distracted finding my long-lost family & squeezing your big brother for information.”

“Oh… you didn’t? I’ll have to get revenge for killing President White then!”

“That was that Transformer dude.”
“Then for… my father’s sudden & unfair death?”
“Never met him...”

“Oh! You ruined my carpet that one time! Have at thee!” Cyber-Griffin said as he lunged a robotic hand at the Archduke of the Skate Park, scraping thin metallic fingers into what flesh there was of our hero that wasn’t already bonded into a techno-organic slurry of lifeform.

Beaglesaurus slid backwards across the sand so fast that it superheated into glass & he fell over and busted his ass on the sand like a complete dipshit, but recovered quick & started drawing a golf ball out of his coat pocket. Taking off only his left sock, his left shoe discarded already, he slipped the golf ball into the sock & began whipping it around (like someone who, like, pretends they know how to use nunchucks in a cool way & they clearly paid a big ton of money cause they’re really nice nunchucks, but now you gotta kinda pretend that he knows what he’s doing or else he’s just gonna feel self-conscious, but you’re also lowkey worried, he’s going to just entirely hit himself in the nads at some point, but also lowkey willing to think that that’s a consequence of his own foolishness & therefore, more than fine to have a hearty laugh about.) Cyber-Griffin’s metallic neck sputtered in mild disgust as he saw him whipping his weeks’ old sock with a golf-ball in it. It probably wouldn’t hurt him that much, but fuck was that gross. He started getting out a fork to go about his evil deeds with.
In the ensuing chaos, Jimmy Buffet stole away on the empty Spirit Airlines jet & took off for 'Bama, unseen because he was wearing a big black coat & a fedora, so no one could tell who it was! It could be anybody! Landing at Montgomery Regional, he raced over to the motorcade to rent himself a speedy Vespa & puttered his way quickly to the Governor’s House. After seventeen minutes of ringing his doorbell, a tear-stained Hank Green got up & broke a lamp in anguish before answering the door.

“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m torn by the horrible decisions I’ve had to make in life?!” Governor Green implored, wallowing in his own sorrow.
“I can fix them! I’ve done the math! I can fix all of them! It’s over!” Jimmy said as he hugged him tightly, “It’s all over now. You… you did good...” he said, patting him on the back & starting to quietly sing Havana Daydreamin’ in his ear.

Sated, Governor Green picked up the Big Cure as he smiled & they lowered a huge batch of humidifiers packed with the Cure as it sprayed into a curative mist across the areas of Florida. The Florida Men looked up as the mist ate their masks away and they stood in some underwear, understanding what was happening again.

“All it took was some good island water to make it happen. It took me a few months to purify it correctly & find the right brand… And a delicious bottle of Island Choice Guam is what made it all good again. We can send one to Cleveland too, Don can come back too. We won! We won!” he said as burst in tears of clean, unclouded joy.

The two hugged tightly and cried intensely at each other as the men of Florida, now merely that, looked to the sky & cheered at their seemingly self-victory over the viral infection as they started barbecuing once more (as many Floridians did in the face of gigantic fog or ridiculous rain) & began necking down quarts of orange juice at a rate of knots. However, the cloud soon forming out of the intense clean mists shot a lightning bolt at the intellectual cube that now housed EPCOT just as they got their anti-gravity engines working. Thus, the entire cube fell into the Atlantic & was never seen again. Some say they’re still working on useless, uninteresting projects & ordering submarine sandwiches with the hot new delivery app they invented.

Back in Marguamitaville, Beaglesaurus swiveled both of his hips to unleash his trademark grappling hook from his techno-organic stomach that hit Cyber-Griffin in the package, making him double-over before sitting back up. Beaglesaurus, noticing he was weak, decided “fuck being honorable and not kicking a man when he’s down” & kicked him in the shin. Though the Oddjob made Cyber-Griffin immune to bullets, melee attacks seemed just as simple to unleash on his person. But his inner world was in turmoil. Something had changed in the cheese. The cheese was getting dangerous.

We see that the reason that was involved Generalissimo Kevin James having donned a ridiculous bright highlighter-orange pork-pie trilby with a fanciful ringneck pheasant feather that he insisted vehemently was a “Generalissimo’s Fedora,” as he tipped it at a shapely lady who managed to spit farther than any human ever had to make sure it got directly in his face. In a frothing furor, he decided now that he was still not respected by the people of Blartertown, he would have to resort to desperate measures. He assumed not only that killing the former leader would embolden people that he was a good leader (because he wasn’t dead,) but that he could make of Cyber-Griffin a martyr they could rally behind (under his control though & where they were raging to was markedly unclear.) Lacking the ability to move the Grand Cheddar Walls, he couldn’t open it to leave or to wage war with the RSA. Certainly his ability to prove his worth (& the demand he nonsensically demanded of the populace to help assuage his own personal regrets & crippling self-doubt that fueled his own rise to power, coupling his feared inferiority with an overcompensating & empty ideal of superiority) would come like this. He started using a jigsaw to remove the floor beneath Cyber-Griffin’s Omega Key to opening his Uncommunicative Bodega of Mystery. However, the key, still being a few tons, fell through several floors & killed 6 of his 14 teen-aged death squad Captains. Rallying only the strongest in his lands, he was able to find a combination of power-lifting armor, an industrial-strength electromagnet & somehow managing to force another four of his 14 teen-aged death squad Captains, killing them from the strain after they managed to turn the key with the abilities of his lack of capable use.

The door to Cyber-Griffin's Uncommunicative Bodega of Mystery was a mystery soon solved because it just looked absolutely nothing like a bodega & more like a medium-sized cave with a Mr. Do! Cabinet, a scattered array of non-frozen pizza pockets (they would remain this way since) as soon the Generalissimo discovered the true Secret: Griffin’s Cheese Repository was a deep well dug into the Earth that held the very pool that held the heartpieces of his cheesy revolution. Goose-stepping his way to his local grocer’s freezer & associated parts of the nearby Food Lion & started to dump forbidden items into Griffin’s cheese. First, came the non-meat bacon bits (like they had if your school was the kind that had a salad bar? I had one once, but they always gave you French dressing [which I was really against from the start]), followed by the big clumping spoonfuls of finely ground brown sugar &, to finish off his curse of bad things that shouldn’t be together: the enigmatic & generally horrid flavor of “American” cheese…

On the beaches of Marguamitaville, Cyber-Griffin rended at his own cybernetic abdomen as he screeched in abject misery. The cheese within him was poisoned by inferior product. Though the Sacred Ranch from the Sacred Ranch Dressing Amphora was pure enough to create a new better cheese, making the cheese impure had its obvious drawbacks. Who could have ever seen this sort of development coming from this otherwise action-packed list of intense battle narration, huh?! The Cheese Poisoning setting in, he fell to his knees. The poisoning also marked his brain with inscrutable madness, driving out the Southernly wisdoms afforded from the Mythical Seven Herbs & Spices. Falling to the ground, his cheese-pumping heart stopped… for all of fourteen seconds. As death washed over him as well (as the waves of the Pacific), he was able to, in his final throes, flick into the air the Tiny Cape of Shazam! to let it slowly fall towards him. Before it could adequately realize how impure he was both in character and in cheese, the curative properties of the Tiny Cape revived him… entirely! The cheese was cast out from his form at the time of his sudden death, leaving merely only the powers of the Sacred Ranch Amphora & the Oddjob. The battle was still far from over…

Atop the ramparts of Travis’ mostly destroyed pyramid office, Generalissimo Kevin James squawked into a microphone about how he would now inherit the control & titles of a grand leader of Blartertown.

“You will all give me ample respect & consistently tell me how great I am in all things! I care not for realism! I just want to be told how superior I am in all things! I hereby declare myself Generalissimo for Life of Blartertown,” he spouted in zealous fervory.

“Yeah, you’re doing a great job...” a voice from behind him said betwixt a cigar in his teeth. From the other tall buildings remaining in Blartertown, the remaining four teen-aged death squad Captains were set on their knees, bound & gagged, captured by the A-Team, “Yep, you really are the strongest, smartest & most powerful man in this shitty cheese world. Hey, ya know, I hear that Travis’ cape was bulletproof. Or was that Griffin...”

“Cyber-Griffin,” Generalissimo James corrected, obnoxiously.

“Right, Cyber-Griffin was immune to a salvo of hot lead. Let’s see if you’re any stronger than them… cause they already skipped town. You really must be on top of the game if you’re runnin’ things now, aren’t ya?” Hannibal asked, mockingly as he pushed the barrel of his Techno Arms MAG-7M1 combat shotgun into the base of his spinal column, letting it annihilate most of James' pelvis & generally groinal region.

As Generalissimo James groaned in surprise & dejected wish fulfillment, he choked out quietly his final words.

“R-really? You really think I’m that great?”

“Nope, just an idiot who wanted to be in charge to feel better about himself...” he said as he cracked the butt of his gun into James' jaw, leaving him to bleed out within hours, kicking him over the parapet to slowly draw a trail of blood across the pyramid office’s exterior. The last four teen-aged death squad Captains left a similar, if less illustrative, trail down the edges of the buildings they were thrown from after their less than ceremonious executions via guns firing bullets (into their heads.) Their crimes were finally avenged against them. The A-Team were men of questionable scruples indeed.

As the first Generalissimo (for Life) of Blartertown fell, the second one stood not very high at all on top of a soapbox, shouting as loud as he could that as the final Unheavenly King & General of Blartertown, he would inherit the title of leader. He attempted to get higher up by climbing up Face’s shirt & swung from his dreadfully delicious locks to be aptly seen.

“I am the Generalissimo for Life of Blartertown! You will tell the people of my impending reign of terr—” General Kevin Hart had started, still in his miniature form, only for Howling Mad Murdock to smack him in the face with his shoe.

“Jesus Christ, did you see the size of that spider?!” he exclaimed as he went back to petting his invisible dog, Billy, “Shit, I think it was going right for your eyes!” Face merely groaned at him with his hands on his hips as Murdock started eating a cronut.

~~~~~

Worlds away, the late Emperor Tarkus Tercel of New Hot Cybertron crashed through the stars. He looked down to see the Blue Marble that was Earth & shook his head, transforming into a stunningly unimpressive 1997 Toyota Tercel, red, with an only slightly-cracked spoiler. He landed on all four of his entirely automotive tires as the rest of his body shattered on impact from his entering the atmosphere & his body chassis lit aflame. As citizens of the Meme Kingdom ridiculously drew closer to a burning car, not recognizing the obvious danger of such an idea, he spake his final words as well:

“The Swan! She is coming! Both Cybertrons are totes fucking drawn out, bitches! I can’t believe this hot nasty steez! Just be sure, whatever you do, that you don’t try to attack her! She has the ultim—” he said before exploding into small parts, killing dozens of citizens flocking around the unimpressive automobile before its inevitable eruption of destruction.

In the concrete-washed remnants of the Pipis Citadel, the Sacred Ranch Amphora was still sealed into a vault where it would remain. Huge spidering cracks sifted along its surface until it shattered to pieces as well, not from being trapped in a pressure-locked vault that was caving in from the weight of tons of cement around it, but from the death of the last Emperor of Cybertron. The Ranch flowed again, but never to be used for the forces of good or evil. Some say that it seeped into the Earth itself & that this is why the Rancho blossoms have such a tangy buttermilk smell.

Back in Blartertown proper (or at least the surface,) General Kevin Hart got back up, having survived this shoe based attack & returned to normal size via his delicious peach chips, laughing maniacally as the A-Team found their van had been stolen just as soon as Beaglesaurus had left town… They kicked at the dirt in mild frustration as General Hart picked up the ridiculous hat of former Generalissimo James & laughed triumphantly then.

“I hereby declare myself as Kevin Hart, Second Generalissimo for Life of Blartertown! Now my reign of terror shall begin! I think first, we’re gonna start getting rid of all of those damn, filthy—” And, yet again, before Generalissimo Hart could finish his sentence about what sort of intolerant cleansing he was interested in, he was crushed to death instantly by a falling Perfect Radiation Healing Chamber as completely cured, Justin McElroy stepped out to the mild cheers of an almost interested crowd. He rolled his eyes at everyone’s lack of recognition & held up the Shitty Tim mask.

“I was fucking Vice-Vice-Vice-President for like fifteen months and the greatest wrestler in Blartertown, you assholes already forgot about me?!” Justin chastised as everyone realized who he was in a minute & cheered for his return, happy to have someone not dead & presumably not going to die immediately in power.

“So here’s how things are gonna go! First, Blartertown is coming down! The Grand Cheddar Walls were a mistake anyways & are slowly melting in the hot sun because my dumbshit baby brother lost his magical bullshit cheese powers. Punderdome will remain after we rebuild it in Huntington, all of our conquests will keep us together still as Best Virginia was approved by some papers I worked out with Sydnee & Vice President Foley, he’s a nice guy.”

Some citizens pushed a lectern & a microphone towards him so he could command more attention & he continued:

“Furthermore, we’re returning not only Thirsty Thursday Specials, but we’re throwing in well drinks for a dollar, shots for three, & Thirsty Tuesdays, cause we all know that Tuesday is the worst day, right? I mean, Monday is like a new beginning, Tuesday is just some shit you have to put up with until Wednesday, am I right?” he asked to a roar of laughter & applause, “Finally, Cyber-Griffin is probably going to arrested for, you know, trying to conquer America, killing a bunch of people & assassinating the former Sultan of the Nor’east. That’s gonna be it & Governor Justin iiiiiiiis out a’ here, ya’ll!” he said as he started slowly assembling a home-made jetpack & then took off to his fine Governor’s House at the apex of Huntington, BV.

Farther north, Premier of New Brunswick Kiefer Sutherland shook hands with Travis McElroy as he sold the province to him in its entirety for a sum too offensively luxurious to list here. He soon trailed off to Prince Edward Island (which had been forgotten after the establishment of the Nor’eastern Sultanate & they quickly renamed themselves the highly superior moniker of “King Edward Island” wherein Kiefer became their official Lugal of King Edward Island. Thus afterwards, Travis renamed it “the Good Brunswick,” throwing mad shade at Retro Braunschweig who were just trying to have a nice day.

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII - Mittens for Kittens, Chapter B - Danny Sexbang's Meme Kingdom Catastrophe Arbor Day Hollywood Holiday Special

Far across, at the borders of the blizzard-frozen Iowa Territory, the Sexbang had finally awakened & was restored to his fullest power. It had taken months of physical therapy & philosophical coaching to help him regain himself after being frozen in salty icicle juice for such a long while. He strolled delightfully into the Meme Kingdom via Nebraska & took a deep breath of that thick memey air.

“It’s good to be back in the Midwest. Time to get things working again!” he dusted his hands together as a few citizens heard him & burst out laughing, soon less able to breath & incapable of enjoying their lives anymore, having heard something so goddamn hilarious.

This is the way that life had been for so long. Leigh Daniel Avidan had been born with a blessing and a curse of a talent ever since his youth. Even then, people found him to incredibly funny. However, this led to good & bad (you know, since it’s both a blessing and a curse,) as his power of comedy merely grew with age. By the time he was a young adult, he found that no girl could enjoy the pleasures of his illustriously talented body, because even the simplest word from him caused most to go completely bananas with laughter & glee from his seemingly “hilarious” terms. This would make him not only the Funniest Man in the World, but furthermore, the world’s hugest virgin. Now at the ripe age of 45, Danny had long since passed the virginal equinox of 30, bestowing on him all sorts of mystical powers. In an effort to make his life easier, he traveled back in time to inspire his younger self that he would become powerful & mysteriously attractive in the present, but all this did was build himself up as some sort of unattainable god of sex & rock that was probably not too reliable in the way of advice. It also imbued him with an almost completely unearned realm of self-confidence & pride that would further inform his sexually provocative, if also unclassed, nature. So great was his power that all the Wizards of the Future who would come after him would grow inherently jealous of his great deeds & illustrious wonders. So great was their jealousy that they would become consterned in their frustrations & create a group of Wizards from across all of space to form a wondrous Space Wizard Concern, that we know would later travel to the present of 20X5 to plague our Archduke of the Skate Park.
Meeting him at the shores of the flooded Missouri River, Danny Sexbang leaned down to look upon Grand Vizier Harley & General Muscles Glasses. They were in awe of his raw sexuality, so great & powerful was it indeed. Recognizing this amount of wonderment in their eyes, Danny put both of his hands behind his entire head & thrust his package at them. They immediately died of too much delightful stimulus & their heads exploded as did their Miracle Meat Machine, making all the meat created from it fall over & then turn into a healthy new species known then as “meatfish.” Danny decided to head out upon the ramparts of the Immortal King’s Eternal Castle to challenge him, landing on the arena-shaped rooftop of it. As he did, King the Grimace skulked in like a freak (which he rather was) & his additional arms sprouted from his unrepenting body. King the Grimace shook all of his right fists at him & growled in a way that sounded completely exact like his usual trademark chuckle.

“So, like, a guy walks into a bar & he sees a poster for three rough jobs. He asks the bartender about it & he says the first job is to knock out a huge guy whose been causing trouble around lately, the second job is to remove a tooth from an angry dog & the last is to make love to an elderly woman who needed it real badly. He asks the bartender for three shots of whiskey, knocks them back & strolls up to the brigand, knocking him out with a single punch to his snoot. He goes back to the bartender & says he needs two doubles to take care of the dog & knocks them back too. He heads into the room with the dog & the bartender can hear the dog squealing in discomfort. The guy comes out & says ‘Okay, so where’s the lady with the fucked-up tooth?’”

King the Grimace winced from the almost gravitational power of a joke that funny & his façade of pure genteel stillness cracked as he giggled legitimately for a few seconds, then returned his face to normal. Danny lunged in with his battle yo-yo, flipping it around two of the Grimace’s four right arms & started to swing backwards from him. Ever since the Sacred Ranch Dressing Amphora was shattered by the death of Tarkus, Cyber-Griffin’s hold & control over King the Grimace had yielded, leaving only his raw unfettered power & his thirst for both destruction & triple-thick shakes to run his control again. He was formerly a freak on a leash, but now he was a goose on the loose!

“So like, this guy is driving in a car & sees a sign that says ‘Road Work Ahead’ & he be like ‘Road work ahead? Yeah, I sure hope it does!’” Danny quipped, going out of his way to explain a Vine. Despite this being the second-least funny thing after overly explaining a Garfield strip to someone over the phone.

King the Grimace slipped to one knee in pain from the grueling hilarity of the thing he just said to them both. His top two left arms fell off from the sheer intensity of his humor as he breathed softly on the ground. Danny walked forward & set his foot on top of his head & pushed him back on to his ass, then stepped on his chest like a very provocative woman.

“No Soap Radio.”

King the Grimace was soundly rendered immobile from that brutal bon mot. He reached into his federal man-purse & drew out his singular weapon to defeat the shake formed villain: a delicious & huge french fry, fresh from the deep-fryer he was carrying in his right hand, then wiggled all his fingers as he dropped (pitched) the deep-fryer off the roof to completely deform & also murder both of the Fine Brothers as they exited their gold-plated house. King the Grimace, defeated, made his feelings known.

“I hereby abdicate. No more. I cannot continue down this path of comedy or I will no longer be able to feel joy from anything else again… even shakes… What must I do to earn your forgiveness, Danny Sexbang?”
“Leave this land, the Grimace! Leave & never return! And if you come back… I’ll kill you...” he threatened.
“But… I’m Immortal & have a very loose grasp on what being alive even means.”
“I’ll… um… No Soap Radio!”
The Grimace cringed in pain as he wiggled both of his legs in foolishness as he rubbed his entire face with his hands, “Mercy!”
“Look upon this, the Grimace. Look & know the truth of your madness. This was your key back the whole time...”

In his left hand, Danny was holding a small box containing the grand & powerful sandwich known as the McRib.

“The McRib is a liminal sandwich. It only exists from time to time & no one knows quite when this is. I believe that this means that the McRib is made on Grimace Island & that, if they come through to this realm, there must be a way for you to go back. All you have to do is follow the McRib & you will find yourself, someday… home again.”

The Grimace nodded softly with his entire head & got up, jumping off the Eternal Castle as his body smashed into a shakey mess on the ground before reconstituting himself & trudging his way to find his path back home. Twenty-five minutes after he was out of sight, Danny let out a harsh fart he was holding in to look cool & sighed a breath of relief.

“Well, shit, that worked! Good thing he bought that McRib thing, he would’ve been hard to deal with… That really asses my chaps… Um, look, Meme… People. Just because I exiled & defeated the Last King doesn’t mean I’m going to uh… take over or anything.”

Everyone laughed at this choice joke, not realizing he was being sincere.

“No, I mean, seriously, I’m not staying here,” he said as more laughter came in & everyone started posting of Fafebook about how they had the best new King. Soon enough, a Presidential Envoy danced his way to the top of Eternal Castle with a hot new letter from President Brian.

“Dear Daniel,

This is President Ninja Brian. What’s good? So, I heard you declared yourself the complete & utter King of the Meme Kingdom & I don’t think anyone else could’ve done a better job. I hereby declare clemency for your crime of regicidal assault & award you all territories formerly under the guise of the Meme Kingdom.

Yours in Christ,
President “Ninja” Dr. Brian Wecht”

Danny groaned in frustration & started using alchemy to make himself a really cool crown & fused it around his head & funked around dopalicious & started shaking his entire ass to the Kingdom below as the people of the Meme Kingdom, cheered. Soon after, Kevin Abernathy was named General of the Meme Kingdom & the very concept of Grand Vizier was thrown right out the fucking window, cause he ain’t gonna fuck with that kinda dumb ass bullshit! Thus, the Second American War, had, finally, ended in all ways.

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII - Mittens for Kittens, Chapter Big Body Finale Ultimate - Get Hype, it's the End of the World!!!!

Back in Marguamitaville, Beaglesaurus delivered another devastating toe-kick to Cyber-Griffin’s solar plexus, sending his spine smacking into a palm tree. Sir Mix-A-Lot suddenly rushed out in front of Beaglesaurus & started shaking him by his lapels. His eyes sparked brightly as he looked into Beaglesaurus’ own techno-organic eyes.

“What are we doing? This is useless! This means nothing compared to her! The Swan is coming! These petty Earth squabbles mean nothing in the face of this! This is… universally salient!” he shouted to him.

Around the world, as if to herald her arrival, all the Combos on Earth turned from delicious pretzal and/or cracker snacks to dust. It really grossed out basically everyone who was eating them at the time & the world reacted with a lot of “Oh! Fucking sick!” & a bout of spitting that would make the world foolish to remember a time when one could stuff tiny rolls of pretzel with cheese or flavored cheese. The sky pierced open, clouds scattering as if one billion madmen glares at them with the fine-tuned ideal of their full collected mental power, to reveal a grand ship, sparkling like steel diamonds, glinting in the sunlight. Assembling atop it were spires entwined like a bundle of mere twigs, towers that spread across as if skyscrapers were woven together to be freed. It was… a nest. And in its center was a mighty egg, a cosmic egg that shone like a brilliant corona of fire, slipping along the air as if even the wind could not touch it as it settled down from its perch among the infinite vastness. From it burst two rays of brilliant light, dancing along in spirals of brownish, peanut-buttery light. As one struck Beaglesaurus, he fucking screamed like really damn loud as he felt his whole body torn asunder. Every moment of the beginning of himself as Beaglesaurus was relived in that very moment. His vision blurred to black. Unseen by our hero, the second beam struck Cyber-Griffin. Though he seemed to feel no difference, the Oddjob fell from his head & his normal height was regained. Then, his entire cybernetic ass fell down & snapped off, revealing a completely flat & uninteresting human ass beneath it all. Though he was healed, he knew now that he was at his absolute weakest.
As he awoke, our hero felt the sand on his body. His torso, formerly trapped in a haughty violence of metal, stood forth now, flesh once more. He was… human again. His body was whole again. Looking across the beach, forty yards away, was something he never thought he would see. His non-binary chum Robo had also returned, though… changed. It seemed every part of him that was robotic and every part that was dinosaur had become themselves a being of their own. There was now Beagle… and there was now Robosaurus. He looked less like his old robotic pal, but now a fully robotic dinosaur with human arms as he stood dominantly in the sand. Yet, he was nothing compared to the figures that emerged from the gaping opening irising from the floating egg. Aloft the air was a woman of intimidating figure & prominence, a cloak of white feathers, spreading over a crimson outfit that resembled that of a fox that battled in many wars; soft flecks of black makeup danced at her eyes. She announced, proclamitorily:

“Who stands before you is, I, Adeen Vulpixius, the Space Swan Queen of the Alien Space Swan People, Mother of Waterfowl, Breaker of Combos. Since my travels from my throne at Planet Disastrous, I have traveled here to denounce your pathetic planet! For years now, every little trouble of yours has been thrown to the depths of space! So many beings you have thrown from their ground to the void! You thought that they would all merely disappear? That your trash would create nothing but a simple solution to all things? To stop this sidereal pollution, I came here as fast as I could to quell it at its source! A few measly planets of bickering automatons may have been crushed in my hyperdrive jump to this place… but it is no price compared to the peace of the Universe! And now among all things, I have drawn every being you foolish mortals have tossed away. They thirst not particularly for revenge, but to teach you. To teach all of you… a simple lesson. That your weakness is more dangerous than your strength. That without your powers, you are nothing. The creature that I have made is a pile of gold dust to show you the true nature of the Hell that you have created & break the planet that can yield such terrors to be released on space!! Now, be buried among the hell of this Sand Monster! Find your forgiveness smothered in the Sand Hell! And, at your weakest, with none of your power face the Mighty Sunshine!!!”

From the ship floated a blocky, stone-like being of 9 feet and 8 inches of hellish golden stone, articulate in movement & stone cold in his wordless expression. He looked down upon them. On his brow & on his chest were worn a great emblazoning like a burning sun flaring against him. His hands rose proud as if in triumph.

“My Sunshine will show you the light! Imbued along with your feckless trash from this backwater galaxy, I have given him the greatest gift of all! To reduce! To weaken! To make the foolish strong enough to trouble themselves. To make the strong weak as they truly are underneath. The mysterious Tavros Force now surges through his golden veins! And he is going to break it all down! Tearing your planet apart will be the greatest triumph that the Universe has halted!”

Beagle, now stirring with imbued confidence to fight amid the Tavros Force, ran forward and shouted as he punched into Sunshine’s leg, breaking three knuckles as he recoiled in pain.

“Shit! I won’t be stopped yet! You can’t stop me! I may be human again, but I’m still the Archduke of the Skate Park!” he shouted, whipping his human left leg into Sunshine’s, creating an internal fracture that shattered parts of his left tibia, “Shit that really hurt! But you… still… can’t… stop me!” He said, feebly striking out his hand to try to hit Sunshine.

He retreated a moment & clutched what left he had, mostly the sentimental medallion around his neck. Squeezing it hard in his entire unbroken hand, it glowed with yellow golden energy as Mei & Aria suddenly appeared. They both glared at him for removing them from their time off so they could figure out their lives & felt this was a rather grueling invasion of their privacy as well as something they were in no way invested in. They began kicking him in the ribs & ass over & over to make sure he didn’t pull some kind of long-legged dogshit like this again. After a minute, they stepped back to realize that… he was human. Aria gasped & grabbed him in her arms & held him close. Mei, looking over, saw Robosaurus & her day improved. She strutted up to them & hugged Robosaurus around the neck of their robotic dinosaur body as her fingers laced into theirs.

“My gods, Robo, I never thought I’d see you like this again… Robo, it’s me, Mei! Whatever I can do to help! Anything… anything for you!” she implored, lovestruck again by him.

Beagle licked Aria on her entire left cheek and she chopped her hand into his neck to remind him not to be a fresh, cheeky bitch. Mei, thirsty for a fight, decided to get down to business & take out Sunshine herself as she turned to the mighty space-warrior, her arm falling off as she became Vriska the Third once more. As she leapt at him though, another two rays of the Tavros Force speared out into them. Each of the girls were struck with them (except Baka) and those same cursed Vriska powers were drained from them. Only a mere unenchanted lottery ticket & a wholly Rigid Diamond replaced them as they too turned to sparkly handfuls of glitter. The curse of Vriska… was finally over… but at what cost?

“Well, shit! That worked out well! Bye, bitch!” Coda said as she picked up Beagle & started walking back to the airport with him.

Baka, who was sitting nearby, was sitting in the A-Team’s van, which she had stolen when they were at Blartertown & stowed aboard the baggage claim.

“Hey, R-Truth… you hungry?” she asked, lazily, as she flicked a popsicle towards Sir Mix-A-Lot, who stumblingly, caught it by the handle.

He took a few bites & then nodded, enjoying the delicious orange & cream taste, an impossibility of nature now brought to a world most enjoyable as he made a very ecstatic yummy noise… and then fell over, having instantly died (being allergic to balsa wood, as it had turned out.)

“Ah… shit, that was like… the one thing, huh?” she noted as she sidled her truck up towards the Queen Adeen, who was floating a few inches off the grounds & constantly laughing in triumph, “You’re gonna lose your voice doing that over & over...” she complained, “And plus, you’ve got lips that look like they could use something better than… ducks & sand...” she said, releasing a devastating wink of attractive force at the Alien Space Swan Queen.

Sunshine raised his hands to the sky as lightning struck him dramatically & a mighty brown & white striped lance appeared in his hands, a concentrated concentration of the Tavros Force. With a swing of it, a lightning barrage cascaded from a brown cloud & completely wiped the Iowa Territory off the face of the RSA (though it wasn’t worth much, considering the terrible blizzard earlier that month that had reduced all agriculture to evergreens & papayas.) Suddenly, the A-Team’s van got rear-ended and Baka opened the door just enough to fall into Adeen’s arms (though more so as so she wouldn’t just land on top of her.) Queen Adeen quickly dropped her as Baka blew her a kiss, romantically.
Looking back to see who hit “her” truck, she discovered it was a shitty red car with a busted spoiler as it transformed into… Tarkus Tercel!

“Hey… didn’t you die?” Baka asked as she looked dreamily at the Space Queen.
“Ha Ha! You’d like to think so, Dudette Babe-ington! But you all forgot the most important fact of all: this slightly shorter backup body was parked in Guam back in the '60s!”
“But then… so like… how did the Amphora break?”
“…Well… ya see… There's no time... Please excuse me...”

Instead of answering, he drew his Spoiler Blade & charged forward at Sunshine. Though a beam of Tavros Force hit him, he was always a plucky Transformer at heart & nothing really changed. He aimed for what seemed like an obvious weak point if video games were any indication & went for the bright Nazca sun on his chest. However, he made one mistake himself: A monster like Sunshine, clearly, had no heart with which to feel feelings & the sun opened to find a pair of rotating crushers, Sunshine’s Cursed Rollers, which began to wind in like a dreaded mangler, crushing in Tarkus’ Spoiler Blade & then the rest of his arm. As his arm was dragged in farther, Sunshine cackled KA KA KA emotionlessly & monotonously. Awakening, Griffin reached out to Beagle & slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket & shoved it into his own!

“No! Not Tarkus! In canon, you were one of my oldest friends from childhood & you were really good at Buddyfight!” Griffin exclaimed about the hero of two dead worlds.
“Didn’t he kill your boss last month?” Baka asked lazily as she started fluffing her hair up to try to better allure a certain Alien Space Queen.
“Well, he’s lost like… half an arm & chest, that’s good enough for now.”

Griffin thought about it a minute & decided he would do what he could to help. Stirring up all the courage he could from the Tavros Force pumping through his own veins, he picked out a jar of Nacho Cheese Salsa he had in case of big emergencies & opened it. Spinning around in circles, he whipped his hand out with the jar, using the very last remainder of his cheesy powers to drive it into a hard throwing start that stabbed into Sunshine’s real weak-spot, the Nazca sun on his brow. Sunshine shouted as the Tavros Force was unleashed onto his body as it started losing its cohesion, falling into a pile of sandy gold dust that began drawing the others in. Before it could do more though, the dust blew away in the wind, revealing his true form, though still hewn of stone & gold, he was spindly, withered, broken by the sun’s rays, missing an eye & most of his teeth. He was weak & old once more. Banging his hand against the beach, he roared to the skies, his fury unstoppable, but a lot more than his body could provide anymore. Robosaurus tromped over & raised both of their eyebrows, whipping their tail into Sunshine’s solar plexus, sending him flying to Austin, Texas. As he landed in the dilapidated ruins of Austin, a figure with black lipstick & golden skin stepped forth.

“Looks like someone’s already had more than one Shattered Dream… Let’s get something to drink, big boy!” Goldust offered Sunshine as they walked off into the sunset. The Tavros Force, gone from his body, shot out into space… never to be seen for the small remainder of this missive…

Chapter Text

Chapter XIII - Mittens for Kittens, Epilogues

Epilogue, Pt. I — A is for Aftermath

Adeen fell to her knees on the sand as her ship fell over on to the beach, drained of energy without her. Abandoned on Earth, she pressed her head into her hands & felt bad about how she was doing. Baka held her hand out to her & smiled.

“Hey, you’re at the bottom, like the rest of us. If you wanna just be like us, that’s cool. I mean, tons of people are former galactic dictators deposed by their waterfowl citizens after the failed destruction of a planet. I used to run the entire planet of Jupiter & look at me now! I’m just a really awesome thief whose great at dancing!” Baka explained as she gave her a soft glance & held her hand out.

Former Queen Adeen shook her hand & shrugged, “It’s not like my life could get much worse. Let’s go get something to eat together… Where do they sell millet…?”

Epilogue, Pt. II — B is for 'Bama

As Governor Hank Green looked over the Jericho Initiative Border, he knew the all-clear was sent out… but there was also at least fifteen guys within eyesight fighting over a burning tire & crushing up human teeth to snort as a powder. He decided that it was impossible to tell if Florida was ever normal & the border remained. Florida soon split from the Union, becoming the Republic of Alligator Alley.

Epilogue Pt. III — C is for Cheddar

The Grimace watched as the Grand Cheddar Walls were deconstructed over the course of weeks, watching stoically from a local lake he was standing in. He could sense much power in the cheesy borders & walked among them in the pillar of protein that stood now where once the original Punderdome stood. He touched its wall & the dark energy that flowed through it rippled. Picking up a McRib he had purchased at his local participating location, he found a mystical portal opened up with the remains of the arcane power flowing through the cheese. He saw a peek inside & jumped through, landing… among his people, back on Grimace Island…

Epilogue, Pt IV — D is for Downtime

Justin put on an island tee & a huge straw hat & laid back on a nice deck chair as he sighed softly.

“Ya know, Jimmy, this is exactly what I was looking for all along!” Justin said as he sighed a sigh of relief.

Soon enough, Jimmy Buffett, Dr. Sydnee, Chuck & Coop all relaxed by the poolside as Jimmy played a cheerful melody of When Salome Plays the Drum as he stopped for a minute & looked over to Justin.

“Well, ya know, Justin, while I certainly did a good amount of work on the Island Choice Guam Project, I couldn’t have done it without my best friend & colleague, but… I think well, you’ve already met him, Hoops!” Jimmy said.

From behind a curtain, stepped Mayor of Guam, the capital of Marguamitaville (formerly known as Dedidu), was Broadway’s Lin-Manuel Miranda, an old friend of the McElroy Brothers!

“Hey, man! What’s good? I haven’t seen you guys since that live show in 201X!” Lin-Manuel exclaimed, both Mirandaly and excitedly.

“I never knew you could solve the problem of the Florida Men with your applicable skills!” Justin interjected.

“Well, I guess it goes to show, you never know until you try!”

Epilogue, Pt. V — E is for Elation

Travis had quietly retired with the Superior Teresa & their children to the new nation of the Good Brunswick & became the Bard King of the Good Brunswick, deciding that he was past the life of ultimate stakes Kumites & other assorted bloodsports & that those days were over. He finally settled into a respectable beard once more & relaxed. However, whilst he was trimming his formerly ZZ Top level beard, he discovered something… amazing! Clint McElroy, coughing up coins since that morning, had emerged from Travis’ beard where he had been hiding the whole time! No one was quite sure why he was there or how he had got there, but Clint was certainly alive! But… though Justin was merely a phone call & a plane ride away… where was their sweet baby brother & 30 Under 30 Media Luminary (as awarded by Forbes Magazine) Griffin?

Epilogue, Pt. VI — F is for Fugitive

It was merely a couple days out from their epic battle where Griffin McElroy was finally met by the Wonderful Rachel.

“How did you get out here? Why are you human again? Did you finally end all this stupid dogshit? Are you going to come home now? And why are you wearing a fake beard that in no way matches the rest of your hair color?” she asked, impatiently of him.

“Weeeeeeeeell, to make a long story short, I was shot by alien magic & it made me sane & human again! I’m more than fine coming home with you, but there is just one thing you need to worry about. You see, Griffin McElroy died on the beach after his heart stopped from cheese poisoning for almost a half a minute or so… But… no one can tell who I am at this point. And nobody is looking for me, charming man about town, Jizzblaster Dan McElroy!”

“That is the worst name anyone has ever made up off the top of their head.”

“It’s so aggressively stupid that no one would do though, huh?”

“True as that may be… ‘Jizzblaster Dan…’ You’re still wanted for murder & treason by President Ninja Brian.”
“OH?! Is that so?” he asked as he drew forth a Presidential Pardon he particularly pickpocketed (or at least pilfered) from the pernicious pocket of our protagonist’s pants, “It seems like this check made out to cash doesn’t have a name on it! I could just write anything on there!”

“Please, for the love of God, just write Griffin & come back to the contiguous United States… or at least the Meme Kingdom, it’s cool now.”

“I think that sounds just about right! I came up with a name for you too!”
“I’m not changing my name to Chesty LaRue…” He started to speak up, “OR Busty St. Clair…”

Epilogue VII — G is for Getting Even

Congressional Maven Hogan walked the streets of Las Vegas as he whispered out the mystical chant that would supposedly summon the dreaded supplier of his steroidally powered beef jerky obsession. As if summoned by a magical tune that he had given to the Real American, Papa Shango lifted out of Hogan’s shadow & wagged his finger at him.

“I had a lot of friends in Canada, you know…”

“I’m sorry to hear that, brother! Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“You can test this new brew I cooked up…” Papa Shango said, with little bravado & produced what looked suspiciously like a can of IRNBRU with food coloring in it to make it green & cornstarch to make it thick & gloppy.

“Well, when you put it that way, brother, I guess all I can do is shotgun it!”

Hogan proceeded to pull a nail out of a nearby building, making part of the west wall of the Bellagio fall on him before he shook the can up really hard with his finger wedged over the top & held it up to his face, nailing the bottom before he let go of it, letting the hot liquid charge down his throat like Hannibal attacking Rome. He let out an inappropriate amount of belch directly into Papa Shango’s stern, unchanging expression (read: any amount at all) as the American Voodoo Master merely watched as Hogan shrank down to the size of a 2mm pharaoh ant that Papa Shango hurriedly ushered into a clear glass bottle & plugged with a pour spout & grinned at him, grimly. Hogan soon writhed himself into a foaming foment & tried to unleash an Atomic Leg Drop on the bottle, but soon found without his Lööps or his mystic jerky, he was woefully unprepared for attacking surfaces harder than canvas, shattering his hip and tailbone as he groaned loudly from his newest prison.

“Ass!” he screamed

As Papa Shango slipped his way back to his office, columns passed by him. With each column passed, his façade changed. His facepaint didn’t show a skull, he wasn’t wearing black, but white. By the time he got to the Mayoral office doors, everyone knew well that he was the Godfather of Las Vegas! Mayor the Godfather strolled on in & smiled as he twirled his stylish cane & sat down with his new visitor, Governor Dude Love of Indiana. Dude smirked & gave him a peace sign before he opened a hemp bag full of money that he put small smiley faces on each one.

“Thanks again, man, you really got things cooking for me, my man. I knew you were a Goodfather after all!” Gov. Love said, smiling as he got up, “Oooh! Mercy! Nice doin’ business with ya!”

Walking out, Gov. Dude Love disappeared into an alley & from it emerged a man with slightly darker hair & a vest. This was no longer Dude Love, but confusingly… Secretary of the Environment Cactus Jack?! Heading out farther, he headed to return to Cleveland.

“Well, we got ourselves a little something that’ll really bring some bang-bang to the nation, dog! With this spicy new plan, we can cut coal & oil out of the budget altogether! When the world gets this hardcore, you gotta improvise!” the sadistic Texan bellowed to President Brian.

President Brian gave him an angry glare that said that he was giving him all the commendations available to a civilian like him. The former ECW champion smiled at him before he got up.

“I need to use the bathroom, bossman! I’ll be back in a feeeeew hours!” Sec. Cactus Jack complained.

As President Brian gave him a dismissive wave of his hand to let him leave, Cactus Jack disappeared, only for Vice President Foley to smile as he entered seconds after. President Brian smiled back at him & they hugged amiably.

@

“You’re sure to get reelected now that most of the States that hated you were cut out of the Union! This is top-level stuff, my man! It’s a great day to bee alive!” he declared, “But, I gotta go on a peace-talking visit to the Republic of New Eastern China! So I’ll be back in a few days! And well, I might get into a few fights along the way, so uh… don’t mind if I look a bit knocked around when I get back!” he said, rubbing his hands together.

Hours later, though, Foley wasn’t in New Eastern China… But there was a certain man crawling out of a boiler room in a leather mask, simpering as he slipped a sock off his hand. The leader of the newest world hardcore brutality ring, Mankind, walked out to the middle of the underground ring.

“Now… I know that you fine folks came here to see blood! To see death & mayhem rule… but when you get back here & you see that the big man Travis is gone… and I’m the only one here! Mrs. Foley’s Baby Boy is out here in the big time, running the big show! Punderdome is gone… but now, welcome to the Velvet Rope Punderground! Cause, like me, buddies… I might look soft, but if you cross me, you’re gonna be in trouble! From me to all you fans out there… Have a nice day!!!”

And the crowd, as always, cheered on.

Epilogue, Pt. Final Super Phoenix — H is for Hitched

It was finally the day as Beagle stood in the world’s best purple tuxedo, still wearing the magical medallion that saved his life so many years ago. As the nondenominational priest bid them to, Beagle Alizondo Randy Carmello Lobstersauruson & Coda Magnificia Talia Musica Ozma de Aria the IV were like totally hitched & immediately dived off the stage as cheering fans assaulted their ears with glee as they were set down next to a large ice-swan. Baka was wearing a black tuxedo & really tall platform shoes to make her exactly one foot taller than Adeen, on purpose. Adeen, though grousing at her new girlfriend’s activity now, smiled as she revealed that she had caught the bouquet & they like completely made out. Across the street at the Vriskasaurus Body Shop (Name Pending,) Mei finished her final project as she lifted her welding mask, smiling as she gave a thumbs-up to her work-partner, Tarkus McCoolGuy, (a definitely human man from Earth,) & shoved her new life-partner’s head into water to temper their new metallic additions. As they rose, they smiled with their newly well-molded human face (though still attached to a dinosaur body with human arms) as she smiled devilishly. She held up her welding gloved hands to their robotic claws & they totally made out too, because they were married & they could now legally do that. The barbed wire ring on their finger glinted because she had welded in it in place there. She smiled. They smiled back, as now they could. Beagle smiled. Coda smiled. Everyone reading this smiled. Because it was… after all that goofy bullshit… A happy ending…

Probably… the End