Missed this one.

---

Billy the Beaker and Coffee are two beakers who look like a beaker and a coffee cup. They live on our Earth, which is a parallel Earth to the Earth in the universe with the Frapshavers and the Sporktonians and the Volcano God. There are other beakers on Earth, but they came from Earth. One of them is the third of Billy the Beaker and Coffee's threesome (not gay). His name is Junior Beaker - no relation. He's not really famous like the other two. Well, Billy is famous. Coffee is more like a Kato. Anyhoosits, these days Coffee doesn't do a whole lot, but he used to have a job doing tech support. Then, for a while, he was a computer programmer. Then, he told everybody to kiss his ass, and took Billy up on his offer of monetary support. So now they sleep a lot and solve mysteries, like where the DVD remote went.

Junior has had a lot of odd jobs, but now he sells fluid. And ... and fluid accessories. Every beaker is born empty. When they get old enough, they can pour hypnotic fluid into themselves. It doesn't really serve a purpose. For normal beakers, anyway. You might think that it's weird, but they would think you're weird. Especially your taste in music. And that gross shampoo. It's not like tattooing themselves or anything. It's more like socks. Nobody likes them but for some reason we wear them anyway. Billy and Coffee are special, being energy beings and all. You see, there are also other coffee cups - living coffee cups, if you will. For the last few decades, Coffee thought he was one of them. Now he knows better. And now he's known his whole life that he's special. Except not. Look, time travel gets confusing. If you're a normal person and you go back in time, can you change history enough so that you're not the same person who went backwards? Maybe. Except then a different person would be changing history, and you might keep changing it. Eventually either the universe would explode, or you would be okay with how things turn out - and you would leave. Or die, I guess.

When you're an energy being, things are different. You can go change history and remember it, but then you changed it, so you have to change. Except you can't, because you're a fundamental supernatural force of the universe. Billy has blue hypnotic fluid, which isn't really fluid - and Junior's is red, which is actually hypnotic fluid. Which is just a name as it's not hypnotic, and has no function. Coffee's was brown, but now it's green because he had the chip put back in his head - except it's not really fluid at all. Let's put it this way - if you were a reporter asking Billy to explain it all, he would say "See, my hypnotic fluid is blue. And his is red." And Junior would say "So it is!" and do this thing where he opens his mouth in a sarcastic smile and turns around trying to look at it. Then Coffee would sigh, and you would stop asking questions. This is also how they respond when someone asks if they're related. Understand now? Oh, and Billy's wife Bismala has for-decoration-only pink fluid, as do many women. Except for her mother, who had dark red, and was kind of a bitch. She named her Bismala because "she's gonna want that stupid diarrhea medicine in her when she grows up, like those other sluts!", which was kind of a dick move - especially when it's a baby. Her dad was cool though, and he had a plumbing business and a moustache. His favorite customer had irritable bowel syndrome.

I feel like I should start over, because you’re probably confused. One day Billy and Coffee were lounging in Billy’s house as usual, playing Audio Olympics, when the special doorbell rang.

“Ping.”

“Pong.”

“P...ping! Close one!”

“Pong.”

“Ping! Holdin’ the button down!”

“Po … oops I missed. You win.”

GAAAAADDDZOOOOOKS!

“Hey it’s the special doorbell!”

“Ahem!”

“Fine, fine, differently abled doorbell.” Billy went and answered the door. “Heeeey, Disabled Larry!” Disabled Larry was sitting outside in his electric wheelchair. Since he was a beaker - with a medium yellow fluid - it was more of a hand cart. He was generally normal looking, but he had no legs. That’s not unusual for a beaker, but Disabled Larry couldn’t walk. He also had an eye that always looked the opposite direction.

That brings me to the first thing I should have told you about Billy - Billy has a lazy eye. Sometimes it’s the left eye, and sometimes he claims it’s the right eye. But, as he says, “So I only have one lazy at a time! So I don’t have lazy eyes, duh!”

Disabled Larry was holding a cake. “Hey Billy, I was wondering if you’d like some cake. My wife made it.”

“Sure come on in, Coffee loves cake!”

“That’s not funny.”

“Who said it was!”

“You. Hey Larry, what’s up.”

“Disabled Larry.”

Coffee sighed, then repeated himself. “Disabled Larry, what is up.”

“I brought you guys some cake.”

“Yeah, he brought some cake.”

Coffee muttered under his breath, “Sorry I asked.”

Bismala walked through the room. “Hey Bismala, would you like some cake?”

“Oh. Hi Larry. No thanks.”

“Disabled Larry. Why not? You think because I’m disabled I can’t make cake?” Everyone just stared for a minute. “Ha ha, got ya!” She left without saying anything.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s cake-intolerant.”

“Cake intolerant? How does that work?”

“If she eats cake, she shits for two days!” Bismala seemed to hear this somehow, and poked her head around the corner, giving Billy an incredibly disapproving none-for-you-this-year look.

“Well, you do! Anyway, yeah.”

“Just cake?”

“Just cake.” Coffee started to snore. They ignored him.

“So like, she can eat pie?”

“Yep. Loves pie. Can’t get enough pie.” This time, she poked her head back in and threw an empty plastic bottle at him, which bounced off his rim and went under the coffee table. Coffee himself opened an eye to see what was going on, then turned over.

“Damn it woman, that’s my head! I do my thinking in there!”

“Heh. Hey, I’m having a party tonight. You guys should stop by.”

“Maybe we will. Hey Coffee, you want to go to a party tonight?” He didn’t answer.

Disabled Larry, or DL for short, knew how to get him to go. “I’m ordering pizza!”

“Alright, I’m in.” He went back to sleep.

Trying to catch up.

---

Present day on Earth, Billy and his wife were having a shouting match. Actually, Billy was shouting and she was trying to knit. If it were an actual match, the score would be fairly lopsided. “Bismala!! Where are the popsicles!”

“We’re out of them.”

“Why are we out of them? What do I pay you for anyway?”

“You don’t pay me anything you ass. And we’re out of them because you threw them at the neighbor kids.”

“Well, they looked like they needed some! Whatever, I’m going to Coffee’s!”

She sighed, and grabbed her phone. HE’S COMING OVER. She got a reply within a few seconds.

THANKS FOR THE WARNING.

HE’S LOOKING FOR POPSICLES.

I’VE GOT SOME

Billy ran up to Coffee’s door, but he was standing there already. “What kind.”

“What? What kind of what?”

“Popsicle.”

Billy thought for a moment, then got mad. “Root beer! You need to stop talking to my wife!”

“Then you need to stop being a dumbass.” He handed over a root beer popsicle and sat on the couch. Billy was about to sit, when there was a knock at the door. They both rolled their eyes. Then, the knock got louder, and more frantic. Billy took a bite of the popsicle and said “I’ve got this one.” and opened the door.

“Mmmfff yeah?”

“OHMIGOD ITS YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!” The girl at the door let out a long squeal like a city boy lost in the woods and jumped up and down. “IT’S BILLY THE BEAKER! OOOOH MY GOD Martha! Martha!! He’s here!!” Billy rolled his eyes again and took another bite of popsicle. Coffee got up and went in the other room. Another girl poked her head around the corner, then squealed too, like a stuck pig in a Japanese hallway.

“We are SUCH. BIG. HUUUUGE FANS of yours! Hee hee hee hee!” They giggled and high fived each other. Billy took another bite.

“Mmmfwell ... why?” The girls stopped jumping and looked at each other.

“Why what?”

“Why are you fans of mine? What have I done lately?”

“Well you’re ... you’re super sweet and you - you saved those kids that one time, and...”

“We just love you!”

“Yeah!”

Billy finished his popsicle and read the joke on the stick. He chuckled, then threw it at the kitchen, and burped a really loud, gross root beer burp. Coffee came back out and sat down. “What about Coffee?”

“H-huh?”

“He was there; he helped save those kids. Hell most of the stuff I’ve done was his idea anyway!” Coffee didn’t say anything, he was just laying on the couch.

“Yeah he’s - yeah I guess ...”

“He’s okay ...”

“Okay, he’s more than okay! Look at this sweet ass bachelor pad!” He pointed around at the pressboard furniture and blank walls.

“Yeah ...”

“And ... and uh - he’s ...” Billy couldn’t figure out how to get rid of them. He was a brilliant people person; so much so that he could joke around and yell but didn’t know how to turn them off - without just slamming the door in their face, that is. Coffee saw this, and so he decided to help out. He got up and went to stand by Billy, cleared his throat, and created a magic tween dispersing device. With his words.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” “Hi ....”

“Sooo. You ladies, you know, want to go out?”

“Ummm ...” “Yeah we’re ... “ “We just - we need to ...” They shuffled their feet, and put their hands in their pockets.

“Ah cmon, the four of us can go for a ride. Then me and you two can go for our own ride.” He had a sick, twisted smirk on his face.

“I’m not sure that’s ...” Now they were looking at the ground, and the parking lot, and inching away from the door.

“It’ll be fun. You can have my autograph if you want.”

“I-”

“On your uterus! Let’s make babies!” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a new package of anal lube. The girls took one look at this, one at each other, and ran away as fast as they could.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Shut up and eat another popsicle.” Coffee sat the package on an end table and laid back down. “Damn, I should have yelled ‘Come back when you’re not so illegal!’ at them. That’d probably creep out my neighbors though.”

Billy took a cherry popsicle out of the freezer and took a bite. “They already know who you are, so you probably can’t creep them out any more than they already are.”

“Says the guy who sleeps next to a doll.”

“Mister Jenkins is not a doll he’s an action figure! Jerk!”

“Yeah but the only action he has is suckin dicks”

“More than you get!”

“Yeah, just ask your wife!” Coffee had another evil smirk on his face. Billy stopped smiling, and just pointed the empty popsicle stick at him. But he kept smirking.

“Coffee!”

“What.”

“What did one snake say to the other snake?”

“I have no idea.”

“Let me ASP you a question. Get it?” He chucked the popsicle in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I get it. Hey, don’t do that! Pick that up!”

Billy replied, “Pick this up!” without actually making the motion, and plopped down in a recliner. There was another knock at the door. “Damn it!”

“I got this one.” Coffee got up and answered the door. It was a reporter with a handheld microphone and a camera crew.

“Mr. Coffee, do you or Mr. Beaker have any comments about the Hillside tragedy?” She took the microphone and aimed it at his head. He stared at it cross eyed, then looked at her.

“Mr. Coffee is a coffee pot.”

“Regardless, any comments?” She shoved the mic at his face.

“About what?”

“The Hillside tragedy - the four missing kids. Any comments? Either one of you?”

Billy yelled from the recliner, “Yeah, this tv show fuckin sucks!” He was watching the reporter and Coffee live on the local news. The station knew better from previous experiences, and so there was a five second delay. The TV responded: “Yeah, this tv show-” and then there was silence. He started flipping the channels. “Coffee, where’s the porn!”

“I don’t have any- Look why are you asking us this?”

She spoke into the microphone, “Because of your history rescuing missing children, any thoughts as to the whereabouts of the kids?” She took the mic and stuck it an inch from his face.

“A ditch? Pizza place? Arcade? Detroit? What are we, psychic?”

“Well people have said you have certain - abilities ...”

“That’s right, I’ve got the ability to do this!” and he shut the door, locked it twice, and put a metal folding chair in front of it. “Now, where were we.”

“I was here and you were on the couch.”

“Right.”

“I said where’s the porn!”

“I don’t subscribe to them, it’s too expensive!”

“Too expensive!?” Billy put the reclining chair down and sat grabbing the handle while he spoke. “What did I tell you, I’ll pay for it!”

“No.”

“Yes! Stop working that dumb job. Nudie magazine day! Nudie magazine day!”

Coffee rolled his eyes again, then closed them. “Shut up, I’m tired.”

“Need more vegetables, that’s your problem. Why did the parapalegic and the melon have a church wedding?” Coffee didn’t answer. “Cantaloupe! Get it!”

Attempting to catch up.

---

A little tentacle was outside playing in the rain. It was acid rain, but that was normal for Sporknein. Also normal for Sporknein was reproducing asexually, but I’ve told you that before. Anyway, up above, an animal that sort of looks like a giraffe made of strawberry pudding was flying by. It was making the standard sound a strawberry pudding giraffe makes: “HONKA HONKA! WHHUUUUUUU! HONKA HONKA! WUUUUUUUUUUP!” He looked up, smiled, and grabbed his glerbin. That was a pretty rude gesture for a tentacle. His mom saw it and hopped outside to yell at him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, young man!”

“Playing.”

“Playing with yourself, I see!”

“Awww mom!”

“Don’t you awww mom me! What if the neighbors saw you? We’d be executed for sure!”

“Awwww mom you worry too much!”

“Don’t you tell me how much to worry! You’re going to go blind and grow hair on your eyes if you keep doing that!”

“I am not! You’re just making that up!”

“We’ll see, we’ll see how much I’m making it up when you’re blind!”

“Shut up, I hate you! I hate this family! I’m going to clone myself and move to Rrrlaablasburg!”

“Don’t you talk about that, you know how I feel about those people!”

The kid curled into a ball and started oozing. His mom continued to yell at him. “There you go, oozing like a little baby! You’re just like you were before you reproduced yourself and died!”

His mom left him oozing on the sidewalk and went back in their house. That’s when someone poked his head out from behind the bushes. He was on a flying bathmat. “Rlablasburg huh kid? You want to go have sex with yourself? That’s pretty weird.”

“No I d-don’t! Who said that?”

“I did. You know back on my planet we had a city just like that, full of people boning themselves. It was the capital of the country.”

“Nuh uh! Shut up! You are not from another planet!”

“Shows what you know.”

Back on parallel Earth, in the year 1991, some kids were picking on another kid. A coffee cup, actually. Being poked at by three snot nosed beakers. Well, one snot nosed beaker, one bratty little bastard with clear sinuses, and the third was kind of standing there nervously. “Hey, it’s that stooooopid cup! Hey cup, want me to put some cream in you? Heh heh heh.” The cup didn’t say anything; he just looked at the ground. “Hey Jimmy, look at this!”

“Yeah?”

“You ever seen a coffee cup that can talk?”

“Nooo, and I ain’t never seen one so ugly either! Heh heh heh!”

“Ahh ha ha ha!”

The third beaker shifted his feet, and tried to get them to stop. “You guys - I don’t think we should be here ...”

“Aw be quite you NERD!” The biggest of the three pushed the third and he tripped, and fell. “Look at that! Heh he wants to make out with the cup! Wha ha ha ha!”

“You ... you guys ... leave him alone ...” The littlest beaker was on the ground, starting to cry. The coffee cup just stood there, watching them.

“Well?! sniff You gonna say somethin’ or not, you fat loser!” The snot nosed one shoved the cup, and he stumbled back, almost falling over, but catching himself. He still didn’t say anything.

“Come on .. come on guys, that’s enough!”

“You think that’s sniff enough? That’s sniff nothin’ crybaby!” A bigger beaker was walking towards them. They didn’t see him coming. “Hey cmon, let’s beat this nerd up! Heh heh!” You could give them one thing - they were straightforward. He reared back and was about to punch the cup - who was still just staring at them - when the beaker who had been walking towards them grabbed his arm, and threw it on top of the school. With him attached, of course. He hit the brick wall with a loud CRACK! The second one gasped and turned, saw Billy standing there, and tried to run away. But he was too slow. Billy grabbed him, and threw him even farther - over the school. He disappeared out of sight. A few seconds later, there was a loud CLANG! in the distance. Then he turned to the kid still on the ground. He just leaned over, squinted, and didn’t say anything. The kid hurried to his feet, and scrambled away, falling down a few times in the process.

The cup was staring at Billy now. Billy straighted up, and turned toward him. The cup sighed, and exasperated said, “Why did you make me regenerate anyway.”

“You had to. You were passing out too much.”

“Maybe I needed some rest!”

“Rest, pfft. You were out of it, Coffee! Look, just like seven more years, and we’ll be out of here. You can handle it.”

“Bimaadizi. And no I can’t.” He started walking back towards the school.

“Stop telling people that!”

“It’s my name.”

“It’s not your name, they just said that when they saw you know, a living container?!”

“Then why did they call you Gishkibidagunnun? Huh?”

“Because they didn’t have a word for beakers, you fruit!”

“I’m not gay, we’re in fifth grade.”

“You sound pretty gay to me.” They were walking into the school. Just then, there was a shout from outside. “Mister Roberts! Aaron is on top of the building agaaaaain!”

Three million years earlier, on the inside surface of a Dyson sphere containing the two binary suns of the Alpha Centauri system, a native child woke up from a nap. He was wearing a headband with shoulder length hair, tied back into a ponytail. He had a slot to tie his feathers into the front of it, but he wasn’t old enough yet to have earned any. It was a clear day as always, and he was dozing in the middle of an artificial field. There was a man nearby, meditating. The kid walked by, and unconsciously sighed to himself. “Prince! What are you sighing for?”

“I’m just bored, is all.”

“Is all!? Have you done your chores? Have you completed your studies?”

“Yeees ...”

“Good, then you have time to study the prophecies.”

The Prince let out another big sigh. “Those are just ...”

“Silence! You will study! The time will come when you rule this land, and you must be prepared for the Ancients to be woken!”

“Oh there won’t ...”

“I said SILENCE, young man! You WILL study the Prophecies of the Ancients, and you will prove your worth as a man! If you do not, pestilence and death will befall you, and all around you. This kingdom will be shattered to bits, and the starving, homeless descendants of the dead will weep and curse your name! The legends foretell of one much like yourself bringing ruin to this sphere, our lands - by waking the Ancients, who will leave death and destruction in their wake. Now study the Prophecies, or woe unto you and all who will follow you!”

It’s quite a thing to be told to study, but it’s quite another to be told you’re going to cause Armageddon, and this worried the Prince more than just a little. For one, he didn’t know much about the Prophecies, other than he believed they were nonsense. Maybe he should study, just in case there was something in there he needed to know about. He was hoping to somehow get out of being king someday already - and now he was sure he wanted out.

He sat down and began to read. There were horrible stories about the waking of the Ancients. “The Vessels of Ancient Power. They would destroy us.” The things the three of them would do. The destruction. The chaos. Two suns, with all of their planets exploding into bits. Shards of a civilization. All caused by a little boy; a boy much like the Prince. A boy with an evil, terrific laugh on his face, holding a scepter towards the sky; lightning, clouds, the Ancients turning against him. Pulling his organs out bit by bit. All that would remain would be a golden scepter, with jewels of blue, green, and red. One of the Ancients would sacrifice himself to destroy the civilization - the other two flying away to do the same somewhere else. And it said this little boy would cause it all. This seemingly harmless, yet evil child - his weapon gleaming and glowing in the eerie daylight of two suns that never set.

Ancients beings calling to him; daring him to obey them, to give them life. “Protect the barriers. Protect them or they will destroy you. Kill them or be killed. Death is your only destiny.” Three pedestals around him - their birthplace, his graveyard. Still, he would obey. He would have no choice. The Prince was terrified at these thoughts; that his people had come up with such darkness, such a horrible idea. Then forced generations of their children, their grandchildren, to learn of it; remember it; live day to day with it. He was terrified of these ideas and he was terrified of his people. He took the book and threw it to the ground. It bounced, and something broke loose; A metal strip, an alien cable - part of the Dyson sphere he was standing inside of. Slowly, he reached down, bent over, and pulled it loose. He examined the damage he had done. A long thread of a circuit and protective shielding. Broken wires protruding out, threatening to stab him.

He looked down at the ground to see where it had lead. And he saw dark spots where the circuitry had failed; showering sparks all around them. Three square, impenetrable tiles of misery before him - peering out from their neon brothers. A glaring abyss boring into his soul. The Prince began to shake. He slowly, carefully as if to wish it to disappear, looked at the circuit he was holding - mouth agape at the red, green, blue wires emerging from it. The power glowing in his hands. Trembling. He held it as far away as he could, and threw it to the ground. Then, he ran. He ran as fast as he could. Over the artificial fields, over the rolling hills that weren’t really there. Over the rainbow of endless electrons and mysterious computations. He didn’t see it coming; he couldn’t have. He ran, and ran, and tripped into a canyon - a bare, empty void in the sphere where there was nothing. A maintenance shaft. He fell. He tumbled. He broke his neck. The Prince was a prince no more.

Around five hundred years later, inside a lab on the Dyson sphere, a scientist is experimenting with artificial life. He’s given birth to robots, to androids. Human clones, Half human half robot hybrids. He’s gone a bit mad trying to play god. Trying to create gods. He’s a familiar figure in the history of civilizations all over the universe. A mortal trying to be immortal. Trying to be more than he is. He’d heard of the wisdom, the terror of the Ancients - as all of their civilization had. He could bring them to life, and destroy everything. His name would live forever. Problem is, he didn’t have the whole story.

He was reading from the Prophecies of the Ancients, like everyone was. Three Ancient beings, vessels of pure energy. There weren’t quite gods, but close enough. They’d destroy everything they saw there, if they got the chance. That was their duty. Their reason for existence. Protectors. Destroyers. Judges, executioners. But that wasn’t quite the whole truth.

He was readying his lab; making the final preparations. He had three beakers lined up; just as they were depicted in the Prophecies. They were wired together; connected to machines he’d been working on for decades. Collecting rare elements from the far reaches of the Empire. Paying off collectors and statesmen for their treasures, and their silence. He was going to bring the Ancients to life, and they would make him infamous. Glorious. He was going to succeed. Only one problem - the Prophecies were wrong.

There was a tentacle oozing and sobbing a bit as a big, white beaker - filled with blue liquid - named Billy hovered over him on a dark green bathmat. “What planet am I from? Eh you’ve never heard of it anyway.”

“SO! You’re just some dumb - whatever you are!” He was sobbing harder.

“Yeah, I guess I am. And you’re a tentacle, and you’re not meant to be one. So I’ve got to take care of that. Sorry.” He shook his head, and some fluid spilled out, turned into some sort of electrified hexagonal beams, and burned the little tentacle into vapor. And he cried no more.

The scientist grabbed his hair and brushed it back. He was making a speech about history in the making; some mad scientist thing. I won’t subject you to it. He hit the switch, and the entire room dimmed. The building shook. The mechanical arm reaching down from the ceiling, holding it in place, vibrated so fast that it was invisible to the naked eye. Something was happening to the first beaker. It was glowing. The pedestal it was on started to spin. It was spinning so rapidly that it was a blur. Suddenly, the arm snapped in half, and the beaker went flying across the room at unimaginable, inhuman speeds. It hit the wall, knocking a hole in it and breaking the building in half. The insane scientist screamed with delight. “I’ve done it! I’ve done it! The first Ancient one has arrived!”

The beaker winced, opened its eyes, and yelled. “Son of a BITCH! Holy shit!” He walked back into the room and was watching the second beaker come to life similar to how he had. The scientist was not expecting those first words, and stared at him in disbelief. “Dude, that was fucked up! Whoa! Look at this shit!”

The arm holding down the second beaker raised, and he opened his eyes slowly. This beaker was smaller, rounder. If you didn’t know better, you might swear it wasn’t a beaker at all. Maybe a mug, a glass. Some sort of coffee cup. He jumped down from the pedestal and walked silently over to the other beaker, staring at the scientist. He turned around and watched the third without saying a word.

Power was attempting to flow into the third when the panels shook and buckled. Alarms went off through the system; throughout the building. The scientist screamed, and ran to his controls. “No power? No power!? What do you mean no power? That’s impossible! That - this is impossible!” He ran to the third pedestal, where a tall, empty beaker was sitting. “I don’t understand - I don’t ...”

The second beaker cleared his throat, and attempted to speak. In a gravely, quiet tone, practically unable to be heard over all the noise - he said, “It’s not - ahem - it’s not impossible.”

“Yeah. It’s - kind of expected actually.”

“What? There are three of you! There are supposed to be three of you! I conjured you! You’re here. Where is the third! Where is the second beaker from the Prophecy?!”

“The Prophecy? Whatever man. There’s only two of us.”

“No! There are three of you! Three Ancient vessels of power! Three gods sent to destroy life and creation; to rule the universe - to - to make me infamous!”

“Heh, wow.”

“I don’t know where you get your prophecies, but you’ve been had, cause there’s two of us and we’re it.”

“And - we ain’t ... well, we’re not going to be destroying any universes.”

“No! No that’s - no!” The scientist turned around, and grabbed the third beaker in angst, in failure. The system had been overloading, and it was done. One last surge of energy flowed in the contraption with no Ancients to conjure to absorb it. The beaker exploded, and the scientist absorbed the shards with his brain.

“Yeah we should probably get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

There's a doins a transpirin.

---

The kid picked up the jug full of tea and chucked it at his older brother. It hit him in the head and exploded. "Hah! Five nothin!"

"Son of a BITCH THAT HURTS!!"

In the backyard, their kid sister was playing with some dolls. "And this is Mrs. Stevens. Hello Mrs. Stevens! Are you menstrating today? You are! Come on Mrs. Stevens, let's go to the store and buy you a chocolate cake. And I will buy myself one and then throw it up, because mom says I'm getting too fat."

Just then, their mom came outside. "You little shits, what have I told you before about playing Concussion!"

"Awwww mooooom!"

"Don't awwww moooooom me you little cock! Get in the house and do your chores before I cut your eyes out!"

Somewhere else, two kids were arguing with their mom. She was trying to ignore them, but they were persistent bastards. "Moooo-ooom! I have to go to the baaaathroom!"

"Just sit down, we'll be there before you know it."

"But Moooooom!"

"Yeah Moooom we have to goooooo!"

"Just sit still!"

Back to our two brothers and their mom. The brothers were vacuuming the living room floor and dusting, when there was a knock on the door. She answered it. It was the kids' father.

"Hi. Can I come in?"

"No skin off my back." She walked away towards the kitchen.

He pulled out a stick of dynamite. "Actually, yeah, it is."

That was the last anyone ever saw of the four of them. There were pieces of bodies everywhere, but none of them could be identified. Except for the kid sister. Her name was Grapefruit, and she was bleeding to death. She was unconcious, and her left arm was missing. Her mom named her Grapefruit because, as she was told: "When you were conceived your dad pulled out and jizzed in my eye".

Meanwhile, across town, a man was walking down the street when a twenty dollar bill fell out of the sky and floated in front of him. "Alright, this must be my lucky day!" As he was looking at it and beaming with joy, a second twenty dollar bill floated down too, across his left eye, to give him a horizontal paper cut. He dropped the bill and fell to his knees, screaming and crying. Unfortunately for this man, it was a small town, and there was only one ambulance. Vitreous liquid spilled out onto the sidewalk. Another man was walking toward him a few feet away, and witnessed the entire spectacle. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. So much so that he accidentally stepped off the curb, tripped and fell into the street - just as a young student driver in a full sized truck was driving by. He had no time to stop. Now there were five fatalities out of a town of 4000 people, and it was only 8 am.

Now, you may be wondering why sharp money was floating out of the sky in the first place. That was because Judge Thompson was emptying his wallet from the top of the courthouse. He was not a rich man. In fact, he was about to lose his house to the bank. He took one last look around, threw his wallet, and jumped after it. It just so happened that a young man was stopped in traffic below - a student driver in fact, who had just ran over a man in traffic, and was getting out of his truck. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. He knew he was in a whole lot of trouble. He didn't know exactly what kind, though, and he didn't have a chance to find out - as Judge Thompson landed on him, head first, killing both of them instantly.

Such tragedy for such a small town. But three miles away, things were looking up. Harold, the bank manager, was about to go shopping for a new boat. He could finally afford it, as he'd received a big bonus from the owner of the bank, Paul Stevens. The reason for this was the way he turned the financial outlook of the business around. He'd hired a new team of financiers who were able to sell mortgaged properties to recoup some of the bank's lost revenue. They were doing so well, in fact, that they were eager to start a new set of foreclosures.

Harold was going to go see his new girlfriend, and take her and her kids for a ride on the lake. But things weren't all roses. After all, to hire new financiers, Harold had fired the old ones. They were average performing men, but not good enough - so they were told. I should say, average performing men, and one woman. Unfortunately for her, it was a down market, and there were no other financial institutions in town. It was a sad situation. She'd lost her job, her ability to pay her bills, her benefits. One of those benefits was life insurance. It was something she and her husband decided they would have to live without for the time being.

One day, her car stalled. It'd been acting up for a while, but she hadn't been able to pay to have it fixed. Well, it was an old car, but her husband was quite attached to it. He'd had it most of his life - the first new car he ever bought. Times were tough though, and he hadn't been able to keep up on the repairs. The upholstery was pretty damaged. The trunk lid was bent. And sometimes, the drivers' side door stuck.

There was another woman in town going to visit her sister. She wasn't alone though. It was a family trip. Her sister was going to spend some time with her niece and nephew. It was going to be quite the reunion. Both sisters were going through some rough times. The one in town had just gotten divorced, and the one visiting thought her husband was cheating on her. The good news is he wasn't. The bad news is the woman and her two kids were waiting on the 8:30 am train to pass, and the car of Mrs. Georgia Thompson, wife of Judge Roy Thompson, was stalled on the train tracks.

She fought with the driver's door too long, but it was stuck. She was trying to get out the passenger's side, but it was too late. The engine sent her car flying, rolling it over four times before it came to a halt upside down. Her head would have too, but it was no longer attached to her body.

It's a shame she cancelled her life insurance. It meant her husband not only couldn't afford to bury her, but without her help, he wasn't going to be able to pay his mortgage either.

It was also a shame that the train didn't see her, or it could have at least slowed down. Instead, it hit her full speed, and knocked her into a car waiting nearby. A car with a woman in the driver's seat, and two kids desperately needing to use the bathroom in the back. That car rolled over too, but only once. The woman broke both her legs, three ribs, and had a fractured skull. The kids - well, the kids made the town's casualty count move up to seven.

"Hey, can I get me one of them birthday cakes?"

"Um, sure thing Randall. What do you want it to say?"

"Oh, nothin' much. Just 'Happy Birthday'."

"Ah alright. So what have you been up to lately?"

It was around this time that Harold pulled up to his girlfriend's house. She had two sons and an ex-husband who used to work for the bank. He was a nice guy. Tried to help people out. Then his wife kicked him out, said she wanted a divorce. Said he was a deadbeat and a poor, miserable idiot. Said if she could help it, he'd never see his kids again. Harold would have pulled up to his girlfriend's house, that is, but most of it was gone. Along with his girlfriend, her ex-husband, and her two sons. All that was left was some smoldering remains, a bloody spot in the backyard, and the left arm of an innocent little girl named Grapefruit.

Randall was waiting on his birthday cake. "Not up to much of a whole lot, same old you know. Spendin' the weekend alone."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Welp, wife's all mad at me, thinks I've been cheatin on her with old lady Thompson."

"That old girl? What for?"

"Well you know, I helped her mow her yard the other day so she got all jealous. Said she's goin to her sister's."

"Well that ain't right."

"Yeah, poor ol Mrs. Thompson, losin her job and all. I just felt bad for her is all. She said she'd take Buster to the vet for me, you know, while I'm at work today. He was moanin and spittin up real bad, and the wife done took off. Real nice of her to do that."

"Yeah she's a real nice lady."

Just then a man rushed up. "Did you guys hear??"

"Hear whut?"

"Old man Stevens got his eye poked out or somethin, and then that crooked son of his walked into traffic, and his kid ran him over!"

Here's today's. It's quite the turning point in the story.

---

Bup Bup flew under the hood, and Randall’s truck rocked from side to side a bit. There were knocking noises, and a lot of buzzing. Then, some sparks shot out from underneath, and it came to life. “GET IN. WE NEED TO GET. OUT OF HERE.”

“Alright-” Randall said as he shut the door and buckled himself in. “But why do we need to get out of here?”

Bup Bup paused, looked around, then answered. “IT IS. REALLY BORING. OUT HERE.”

Randall and Bup Bup continued on their way, driving a couple of miles up the road. Randall was trying to think of the best question to ask besides “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU FROM!” when suddenly there was an explosion to the left of them, in the middle of an empty field. “Damn it! Not again!” Randall stopped the truck on the side of the road, as Bup Bup immediately flew out the window towards it. “Hey, buddy, get back here!” Randall looked behind him in the rearview mirror, ahead to see if any traffic was coming, let out an exasperated sigh, and shut the truck off. He grabbed the keys, and went after him.

When he reached the edge of the field, he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Neither could Bup Bup, who was just hovering there, making some blooping noises, unsure what to do. A fifty foot tall furry green monster was howling and bracing himself as two little white creatures kept throwing stuff at him and running away.

The bigger one spoke. “Here you fucker! I was going to watch the game today! This is for making me miss the game!” He chucked something that looked like a flaming bottle at the monster, who tried to dodge, but didn’t quite make it. It hit him in the back and exploded as he howled in agony, then growled and tried to catch the two, who were running again. The monster’s fur was charred and some of it was falling off, disintegrating as it touched the knee high grass.

“What game? You don’t even like sports!”

“Yeah but I was going to watch it! You know the, the thing where they hit the ball and run around a lot.”

“I know what baseball is, jackass!” The smaller one turned away from him and threw another bottle at the monster, who was attempting to grab him. He caught the bottle on the ear and grabbed it, screaming so loud it shook the earth around him. “Die you son of a bitch!”

“Whut the heck are those things? It looks like some sorta bottles throwing bottles!”

Bup Bup didn’t respond. He looked at Randall, buzzed up and down a bit, and kept watching. “Is that ... one of them glass tubes? And that one, that little feller - that’s a - that’s a coffee cup!” Randall was close. The big green now half furless monster was about to grab the cup of coffee when the bigger one ran in the opposite direction.

“Hey shithead! Bet ya can’t catch me. Na na na boo boo, I’m faster than yo-ou!” He was sprinting - uh, sort of - in the opposite direction, looking slyly over his shoulder. The monster stopped trying to catch the cup of coffee and went after the one escaping instead.

“Billy! Get your ass back here!” The coffee cup chucked another bottle at the monster’s back, then ran after them. It hit him in the back and took a big chunk of hide out. He growled again, obviously not enjoying this experience. He turned his attention around again, as another bottle tagged him in the calf, and down he went.

“What, Coffee! What do you want now?! I’m a little busy to give you a ride to the post office!” Billy jumped on the monster’s head, did a front flip, and a bunch of thick blue liquid spilled out of him. The monster’s head disintegrated with one last blood curdling scream, and Billy fell flat to the ground as the body disappeared. Coffee walked up to him.

“I only asked you for a ride that one time and you still bring it up!”

“It was two blocks away, you lazy ass!”

“I had a sprained ankle!”

“That’s because you don’t eat your vegetables. Who are you guys?” Billy was staring at Randall and Bup Bup. “Whoa dude, check you out! Did you lose a bet?”

“BUP BUP. THIS IS. RANDALL. I DON’T. KNOW IF HE. LOST A BET.”

Randall took off his hat and wiped some sweat from his face with his shirt. “What do you mean did I - hey! Now that ain’t very nice, uh, whoever you are, tube man.”

“Billy the Beaker. This is Coffee. And you must be ... addicted to painkillers!”

“Bimaadizii!”

“Your damn name is Coffee, you ass!”

“My birth certificate says Bimaadizii.”

“That’s because you told them to put that on there! I swear, you meet one damn Ind- er Native American and this guy thinks they’re naming him!” A hand appeared in midair, flipped a thumb in Coffee’s direction, and disappeared again.

“Hey, how’d you all do that with your hand?”

“How’d you do that with your face?” Randall curled his nose up in disgust. He understood the joke was at his expense, but he didn’t want to really admit it.

“WHERE ARE. YOU FROM.”

Billy chuckled and answered him. “I - AM - FROM - MARS. Heh, DO - YOU - ALWAYS - TALK - LIKE THIS”

Coffee joined in. “Yeah heh YOU - SOUND - WEIRD”

“Don’t make fun of his speech impediment! We’re from Earth DUH, Mr. Flying Robot man!. Uh I think it’s - “ Billy looked around the field a bit. “ - a different Earth or something. We were fighting this monster thing and then you guys showed up. Actually we’re from Alpha Centauri -”

Coffee interrupted him immediately. “A PLANET BY Alpha Centauri, which is a binary star system-”

Billy shot him a mean glance and kept talking. “-from Alpha Centauri, and - uh, a parallel Alpha Centauri actually-”

“But our home planet doesn’t exist anymore because SOMEBODY had to go blow it up!”

Billy shot him another mean glance like a Kenyan at archery practice. “I told you why I did that!”

“Yeah well. Whatever.” Coffee looked down at the ground and motioned like he was kicking some dirt, but if he had a foot it was invisible.

“Gosh dang you guys are not makin’ any sense WHAT so ever.”

Bup Bup flew from Randall’s right side to his left, and explained it to him. “THEY ARE. ALIENS.”

Billy took offense at this. “Hey we are NOT aliens, we’re gods!” Coffee perked up a little at this.

“Yeah we’re immortal. It’s okay I guess.”

“It’s better than okay doofus, it’s fantastic! We can ... outlive all the zombies and shit!”

“There are no such things as zombies.”

“Yeah not yet, until they perfect the virus!”

“So, yer tellin’ me you guys are from another planet, and also from Earth, all of which are in a parallel universe?”

Billy answered while Coffee stared at the ground some more. “Yeah, basically. Hey, you guys got nachos on this Earth?”

“YES.”

“Hey how do you know we got nachos?”

“I READ. IT IN. YOUR MIND. WHEN I. ABSORBED YOUR. LANGUAGE.”

“Hey now! What else have you been readin’ in my mind?”

Bup Bup made a buzzing, squeaking noise, and hesitated. “I DON’T. WANT TO. TALK ABOUT IT.” He flew away, back towards the truck. “SO MANY. PENISES ... BZEEEEEEE”

Randall turned bright red. “Ah .. heh. There were girls too you know! Uh, I guess we’ll leave you boys to it then.” He began to walk away, turning towards his truck where Bup Bup was circling it furiously.

Billy yelled back at him. “Yeah I bet you do that a lot!” Coffee chuckled, but didn’t say anything for a minute. He stared off into the distance, the opposite direction, as Randall and Bup Bup took back off down the road towards town. Finally, he turned back around and spoke.

“Now what do we do.”

“Nachos. Lots of them.”

“Alright. Wait a minute! Why did he call you ‘tube man’?”

“Yeah, like he’s never seen a beaker before! Eh you know how it is down south.” Billy started walking to the edge of the field. Coffee paused a minute, then yelled after him.

“So what, this is Indiana!”

“Same difference.”

“Hey - you ... have any money?”

Billy rolled his eyes and kept moving. “You’re broke AGAIN?”

“Who’s to say they even use the same money on this Earth anyway! We need to be careful.”

“We’re immortal remember? I swear you always forget you’re immortal.”

“Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can steal nachos!”

“Agreed but it doesn’t mean you need to keep being so whiny either!”

Coffee paused and looked at the ground for a minute, then caught up to Billy. “So. ... Can I borrow five bucks?”

Billy sighed, turned into a beam of bright, light blue light, and disappeared.

Coffee yelled “Well can I or not!” as he, likewise, turned into a beam of green light, and followed.

Here's another.

---

There was a planet not entirely unlike Earth, with some men not entirely unlike Earth men, where a man not entirely named Randall was walking down an empty road in the middle of the country. His truck had given out and no one was stopping to help him. This could have been because they were scared and prejudiced, or it could have been because Randall was wearing a flannel shirt with no arms, tattered jeans, and was dripping with blood from head to toe. Randall tried flagging down another car, another semi, but none stopped. He was frustrated, and kicked a big rock laying in the shoulder.

It just so happened that a car was driving by at the same time. The rock went flying across the highway, and narrowly missed the car’s back windshield. It kept driving. The car, not the rock. “Son of a bitch!” Randall was even more frustrated now. Both because he missed and they didn’t stop, but also because he was dumb enough to do that and maybe get himself in even more trouble than he was already in. Randall was contemplating his life. “First my wife leaves me after the kids were in the train wreck, then my daddy gets ran over by that tractor, then my dog dies on my birthday, and now this. I’m like a walkin’ cliche or somethin.” Another car, an older model, was passing by. It slowed down, stopped in the middle of the highway, and then started backing up.

“Excuse me there sir, you need some help?” An older gentleman with shaggy grey hair, plastic glasses and lots of wrinkles had stopped and was peering out his enormous 30 year old brown car through his enormous 30 year old glasses at Randall.

“Well, yeah, I’m havin some problems with my truck.”

“You alright? Looks like you’re bleeding from somewhere!”

“Nawww I’m alright, I just spilled some fake blood all over myself when my truck died, helpin’ out at the haunted house this Halloween you know.”

“Let me get you some towels out of the trunk.” The man got out of his car, put his key in the trunk, opened it up, and the front half of his car exploded. Or maybe imploded. The car bounced in the air, landed with a THUD on its tires, and sank to the ground. All four had popped. But there was no debris. The road just had half of an antique car sitting on it, a lot blacker than it had been a few minutes earlier, and a lot more exploded.

“SON of a BITCH! That thar was quite the implosion I tell you what! You alright there man?”

“Yes, yes I’ll be fine. What in the world -”

There was an odd humming noise coming from the smoldering remains of the front seat. Both men cautiously walked towards the front of the car. Just as they reached the story appropriate visual distance, something like a big bug flew out of what used to be the windshield. "Whut the heck is that thing!" Randall exclaimed, not really expecting an answer, but wishing for one. It flew around in a big circle around the two men, then started closing in on both of them, first divebombing towards Randall's head, then the older gentleman's. Randall was terrified of bugs, and started swatting at it. Meanwhile, it was making a hum and once in a while when it got close enough, a beep. The other man ducked and covered his head, the way he'd learned to do in school when the Japs were coming - not making a sound. Randall hadn't learned much in school, so he swatted at it a few more times, then started to run. It followed him, circling the whole time. Finally, it let out a long BZZZEEEEE! And stopped three feet in front of his face. Randall skidded to a halt in the gravel, almost falling knee first into the road for some terrifically painful, literal, road rash. He couldn't understand what he was seeing. There was a short, diamond shaped carrot bug hovering, staring at him. That's when, in an oddly organic mechanical staccato, it started talking to him.

"CALM. DOWN. RANDALL. YOU ARE. COVERED IN. CORN SYRUP."

"That's right I am. Now what the HELL are you?"

"ALIEN. ROBOT. LET ME. HELP." And so he did, flying again around Randall, somehow absorbing all the fake blood he had gotten on himself when he dodged that opossum and ran into the ditch.

"Well I thank you for that, but me and this old feller here are stranded out here 'cause you imploded his car over thar." Randall walked back to the old man, who was just staring at him, a sad, straight frown on his face, greasy grey combover flapping in the wind, faded shirt with red and blue stripes.

"SORRY. ABOUT THE. CAR." The old man said nothing. He just continued to stare at the two of them - ice running through his veins. Hands at his sides. Black wingtip shoes that should have been replace long ago - about the same time he had been.

"Well now, you know, my name is Randall, do you have a name there lil feller?"

"DRRRRRAAAAP. POOO OO. OOO OOO OOO. OOOBUP BUP. BUPOOOBUP. ZZZEEEEE! OOOOOoooooo"

"Uh I .. Drapper what? Drapppoo .. ya know what I'm gonna call you Bup Bup, you okay with that?"

"THAT IS. FINE. BZZZ!!" Bup Bup suddenly flew back a couple of feet. He was making a very odd sound, at least relative to a two point five inch alien robot. The old man was still staring at him. And he was flaring his nostrils.

"Say there mister, I never did get yer name. I'm Randall, it's a pleasure .." as he extended a hand, and took a step forward.

The old man shifted his eyes to Randall. He opened his mouth narrowly - lips snarling back, exposing his yellowed teeth. Randall froze in place, hand still outstretched. Suddenly the old man's nose began to grow. His hair grew longer, brighter, darker? Wrapping around his face. Glasses melted away, fangs and spikes growing from his mouth and neck. Now he was eight feet tall, spotty brown fur, with three toes on each foot - disgusting green tongue falling out, spittle flying in all directions. Dark black holes opened in his reddening skin. "EEEEEEEYEEE ... I AM SCUMBLADE FROM THE TENTH HELLWARP, ELDEST SON OF THE CLAN OF THE FALLEN. YOU OWE YOUR SOULS TO MY MASTER. SLUUUUPPPPPPP!" Scumblade was licking his fangs and digging something out of one of the holes in his skin.

"Holy SHIT on a goddam SHINGLE!" Randall had never seen anyone from any Hellwarp, let alone someone from the Clan of the Fallen. They had some odd looking folks where he was from, but nothing quite like a demon spawn, and certainly no shapeshifters - at least as far as he knew. He was trying to think what to do. Run for the saw in his truck? That would only take a couple of hours to make a cut in this guy. Run the other way? He wasn't a very fit man, and he didn't know what the athletic programs were like in the tenth Hellwarp. He didn't have time to think of any other ideas, as Bup Bup had flown into one of the holes on Scumblade's left arm. Scumblade was not enjoying this. "AALLLLLLLLLLLL! GET OUT OF MY MIND! GET OUT!" Bup Bup did indeed get out - he drilled a hole through Scumblade's heart, his lungs, his brain, and the top of his head. He rose out in a red mist of blood and brains, covering Randall in the process.

"I AM. IN NO MOOD. FOR THIS. TODAY. MOTHER. FUCKER."

"Soooon of a biiiiitch!"

"OOPS SOR. RY. I DID IT. AGAIN." Bup Bup circled Randall and cleaned him off again, spitting the demon goop on the road as he went.

"What the hell was that thing!"

"SHAPESHIFTING. DEMON LEECH. FOLLOWED ME. IN."

"Alright then-"

"LETS GO. FIX YOUR. TRUCK."

"Then what?"

"THEN WE. HAUL ASS."

Missed posting this one until now.

---

BLAM! He removed his finger from the trigger. It was over. He fell to his knees and dropped his head, a silent tear falling from his eyes onto the grungy floor below. He was finally finished. It was the most beautiful birdseed cake he’d ever decorated. It was too beautiful; too wonderful to exist. He couldn’t take it. He put the gun in his mouth. Unfortunately, it was a birdseed paste gun. All it did was taste delicious. Suddenly there was a loud POP! POP! Startled, the butcher jumped to his feet, dropping the gun on his foot. “Son of a BITCH!” POP! POP! The neon lights overhead were exploding. He looked up, then ran for cover under a metal table. That was a bad idea, as the roof caved in next to it, and a creature made of metal rods fell in with it. Normally this would have been fine, except this particular creature was named Electric God, and for once they named him well. There was another loud POOOOPPPPPP! and a SIZZLE SIZZLE as an aroma similar to fried chicken filled the air.

Oh shit

Electric God saw what had happened, and he felt terrible about it, and also kind of negative. So he grabbed the smoking, delicious remains of Fieiliei the butcher and starting spinning his two halves around as fast as he could. The smell of ozone permeated the atmosphere, because it was about to rain, and also this whole robot thing. Lightning filled the room, purple and pink like a sick beauty pageant winner, and time flew backwards within the local blast radius, bringing Fieiliei back to life, albeit a bit warm around the edges. “How did you - I thought I was a dead duck!”

Actually you were a dead chicken, sort of. Sorry about the roof

He looked at the gaping hole above him, plaster and rocks hitting him in the face. “Yeah no problem, hey, you can talk! What, uh - this is so weird - what are you doing here? Who are you?”

My name is Electric God but my friends call me Jerry

“Jerry? Why Jerry?”

Why is your name Fieiliei, I don’t know

“My mom had a rough time laying me and it was the only sound she could make - that’s not the point, what are you doing in my kitchen and how the hell can you bring the dead back to life, and”

It’s complicated and besides I’m a god remember. Okay have you seen this other uh god, made of lava. It’s important

“Lava? Important enough for you to ruin my roof and kill me?”

Yes

“... Okaaay, well no I haven’t see any sort of lava - thing, so ...”

Alright well tell me if you do see him because I need to talk to him

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

I don’t know, figure it out

And with that, Elec- er, Jerry - clunked himself back outside and disappeared, leaving Fieiliei stupified, uncharbroiled, and feeling a bit bad for his mom again. He picked the phone up, paused, and dialed a number. “Yes, I’d like to report a - um - a breaking and entering...”

Jerry trudged along outside, looking in both directions at once. He was made of a bunch of metal rods that didn’t actually connect all the way, so the two halves of his body searched high and low for the lava god, or the volcano god - or somebody - high and low, at the same time. There was a dark spot in the distance. Jerry noticed it, and cautiously made his way towards it. It was black - in fact, it was pure black. No light seemed to be bouncing off of it, kind of like a hungover black hole on Sunday morning. Jerry got close enough to discover that he was looking at a shadow creature. But not close enough to put himself in danger. Suddenly the blur moved, and spoke. “Oh hey, what’s up?”

What are you

The shadow creature appeared to give Jerry the once over. “Heh, oh man, you’re out here looking like - like that, and you ask me what I am? I’m a shadow creature DUH. Now what the hell are you?”

I’m the inside of a blender. Have you seen a lava creature lately

“Yeah let me check - here he is!” And he raised his hands in the air, apparently trying to make a rude gesture which didn’t quite work as he didn’t have indistinguishable fingers. The shadow creature made some rude noises and jumped up and down a bit. Jerry sighed and went back on his way.

“Hey! Suck this lava creature, right here! Go make me a smoothie you fag!”

Beep. Boop. Beep boop boop

Jerry was spinning around oddly and speaking noises. Maybe he just wanted to sound future-y. He kept at it for a while, until he seemed to pick something up. Down a grassy hill, and up another, Jerry came to a cliff on the edge of a steep canyon face. There were trees with blue leaves covering his view of the river bed. Jerry peered over the edge and yelled a static cry into the emptiness.

Hey. Hey are you down there.

There was no response. Jerry internally kicked himself, realizing he couldn’t expect any sort of response. There was a slight rumble, and a low pitched whine - which made him perk up, and rush as best he could down to the valley, which honestly was not very fast for some robot who can harness electricity. He quickly found who he was now looking for. A seven foot wide trapezoidal rock was standing there, staring at him with horrible, wide white eyes. There was a strip of some sort of material coming out of its head, and in an ancient alien language was written the words “YES I’M HERE”.

Stone. Why are you down in this canyon

And the words fell off his head, as there was another vibration and a rumble, and a low pitched whine, as another strip came out. “WHERE ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO?”

Somewhere more lively I would hope

“I LIKE IT HERE. IT’S PEACEFUL”

So is deep space

“YOUR POINT BEING”

Jerry sighed again, deeper than before. Come on, we have to go. Lava God is on this planet somewhere.

Stone God stubbornly followed Jerry as he started climbing his way up the cliff, past some trees. “LAVA GOD OR VOLCANO GOD?”

Jerry paused, then spoke with one half looking back as he kept moving. Maybe both

I missed yesterday, so I'll have to catch up sometime.

---

There was a tattered, shredded, ugly yellow dress lying alone on the stage. Then, a large orange creature with one arm ran out crying, carrying a metal folding chair. He started smashing the dress with the chair with all of his strength while yelling “You’re not my mother! You’re not my mother!”, slowly tapering his anger until he was on the ground flailing his arm and yelling nonsense the way a drunken bum does on a cold morning in September behind a Rally’s that went out of business. Across the street, there’s a place to get your oil changed, but they don’t see much business either. The audience started clapping, some clapping one handed. It was pretty loud. Older ladies were dabbing their eyes with big rubber bands. Some of them vomited in approval. Vomiting in public was a way to show your appreciation and willingness to empty your stomach to accept the nutritious ideas being presented. It can also mean you’re about to get diarrhea. I should point out that on this particular planet, it was traditional for women to carry rubber bands, the way they carry handkerchiefs or tissues or tampons on Earth. A rubber band can be incredibly useful. It can keep your hair back, or hold two things together, or it can flick your unruly children in the glerbins.

This was the 307th annual Celebration for the Performance Arts. The most important thing to remember at the Celebration for the Performance Arts is that concessions are expensive, so eat afterwards. The second most important thing to remember at the Celebration for the Performance Arts is that nothing on stage is supposed to make sense. During the 239th Celebration, the host accidentally read the real words from the cue cards. He was ostracized immediately, and later that night his children were fed to the lemurs. It was a different era though, an era when schools didn’t allow fraternization with a staple creature, and clothes dryers still ran on slave electricity. The worst that would happen these days is maybe someone would bite you a few hundred times. Nothing much to worry about.

The next act were two pink brothers from the planet Zorbatron. That wasn’t the real name of their planet of course, that’s just the name they picked for the Celebration for the Performance Arts. They went up on stage, one completely nude, and one wearing the skin of his dead grandmother. He grabbed his brother’s three penises and yelled “THIS IS MY BOOMSTICK!” The audience began to clap. This was a nonsensical phrase for this region of space, and so this made sense - as it didn’t. If the Celebration were on Earth, of course the brothers would have been sent to Abu Dhabi to undergo the Torture of 2000 Cuts, and their children fed to the lemurs. Luckily, they were five light years away from Earth, and also pink. Five light years across a hidden dimension, that is. Don’t worry about it yet.

The most popular food to buy at the Celebration for the Performance Arts, or FAGSPERM as it was locally known, was roast pork sandwiches. Or, something like the equivalent of roast pork sandwiches. The creatures attending FAGSPERM took their sandwiches quite seriously, and did not want the absurdity of the evening to creep into their stomachs. One attends such a festival to have a night of catharsis, not two days of food poisoning. There was a giant yellow frog on stage. He lit himself on fire and started reading a poem:

I wiped my girlfriend’s ass
Then I threw her to the dragons

The rest of his performance was drowned out by clapping and whistling. The next act was a six armed green spider carrying a large metal ball.

“Ugh, not this lame guy again.”

“Carl.”

“Shhhh!”

“..Sorry. Carl!”

“What? What?!”

“I need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Go. You know, GO!”

“You’ve got a cloud in your wunk pocket?”

“Why don’t you just scream it for the whole auditorium to hear, you ass!”

“Fine, just .. just go then!”

“Well you’re in my way, dumbass!”

So he got up and left, just as the act on stage had finished his simulation of spider cunnilingus. That’s when a lot of shouting and cheering was heard outside.

“...Shit, now I’ve got to go! What an ass .. “

So Carl got up and left. The stage was empty. The cheering got louder, and louder. Just as the host was finishing his impromptu speech on the importance of embryo molestion, the side doors burst open, and the lava god slurped on stage. Of course, everyone in the audience recognized him from the documentaries and that article in Weird Shit Monthly, so they started joining in the shouting with the crowd outside. As the lava god turned around and built himself into a pile, everyone became silent. No one cared about the Night of the Thousand Drunk Fuckers, or the Celebration for the Performing Arts anymore. They sobered up. They cared what this big ass lava thing was doing on their planet. It’s one thing to believe in a god, it’s quite another when he pays you a house call. Religion is a great place to visit, but you don’t want to live there. So the lava god said, or wrote, the only thing he could think of:

OH, FUCK ME SIDEWAYS

Everyone stood staring at each other, until a young spider up in front decided to ask a question. “What are you doing away from your planet, volcano god?!”

ACCIDENTALLY TELEPORTED OUT

Another guy decided to stand and ask a question, forgetting himself. “You can teleport?!” Now the crowd was warming up.

ONLY WITH ENOUGH ENERGY MAN

“Hey can you teleport me?!”

“Yeah take me on vacation!”

CAN’T TAKE ANYBODY WITH ME

“What, that sucks!”

“Hey don’t you talk like that to the volcano god!”

“I’ll talk to him however I want, he’s not a god anyway!”

“Yeah, he’s just some lava ... thing!”

Now everyone was arguing with each other and yelling. Some rubber bands started flying around the room. One guy threw a folding chair. “He is not!” “He is too a god!” “No he’s not he’s lava!” “Who knows what he is!” “He’s not god!!” “He is too!” “There is no god, and he definitely ain’t one!”

I USED TO BE GOD

Everyone shut up. They just stared at it. He used to be a god? The god? No one could make sense of it. To them, he was more of a radio personality than anything important, a weird curiosity who was always super casual and not too threatening considering he lived a couple planets away. But suddenly he was on a stage in front of them.

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick!”

“Don’t puke in my wunk pocket!!”

“Gross dude!”

That’s when Carl and the other DJ stepped back into the room. If they hadn’t just gone to the bathroom, they probably would have shit themselves. Because all of a sudden their most frequent guest was right in front of them, and he was saying he was divine, or immortal, or responsible for creation, or god knows what.

NOW I’M JUST A LAVA THING

“Dude! Carl! Holy shit Carl!”

“Yeah Sneezeknock I see him, how the ... what the ... holy shit Carl!”

“You’re Carl!”

“I know that!”

The back doors were raised, so Carl and Sneezeknock were standing alone in the back. I haven’t told you Sneezeknock’s name because it sounds really stupid. To pronounce it, you have to do something like sneeze violently while knocking on the back of your head. It sounds better in Ransomian. Anyway, Carl and Sneezeknock were standing alone in the back, so the lava god saw them immediately.

HEY GUYS WHAT YOU DOING HERE

“We ... we were here for the Celebration!”

COOL. JOIN THE PARTY

“Party?! What ... what do you mean you’re a god?” They started slowly walking up front.

THEY USED TO CALL ME VOLCANO GOD

“Yeah? So ... so does everybody. Wait, what?”

MY NAME IS VOLCANO GOD

“That - your actual name is Volcano God?”

YEAH BUT IT’S JUST A NAME

“Hey! Heyyyyy hey hey hey HEY! You lied to me!” It was Stanley. He’d finally calmed himself down and figured out where the lava god had ended up. “You told me your name is Lava God!”

I DID?

“Hey it’s Stanley the Intern! What are you doing here?”

“Shut up Carl! I asked a question! Are you lying to them or did you lie to me? Which is it, Lava God or Volcano God?”

UH

I CAN’T REMEMBER

Stanley was pissed. He didn’t appreciate being fed a triangle made of lava. Or whatever it was that resembles lava. He still felt it burning his insides, and he wasn’t sure if he was ok or if it was going to burst out of his chest. It was rare that people got angry at the lava god, but when they did, they really went all out. Stanley was pointing and popping more antacids.

“Well think harder. I want to know. Are you Lava God or Volcano God or just some stupid robot?”

“Robot!?”

“ROBOT!” “He’s a robot!?” “Oh god, DUH he’s a ROBOT!” Suddenly it dawned on the crowd, and everything started to make more sense. And sometimes when things start to make sense when they didn’t before, things start to also get dangerous. You could feel it all around. Things were going terribly wrong for the lava god, and he was losing his supporters every second.

“Well! Which is it?!”

UH I DON’T KNOW MAN

“Why the hell not!”

WISH I COULD TELL YOU

Sneezeknock had had enough of the intern ruining his radio programming. “Stanley, shut up! What does it matter anyway?”

“It matters! I don’t like being lied to, especially by a .... robot, thing, who claims to be God!”

IT MATTERS

“And exactly why, VG, does it matter?”

WELL, LAVA GOD WAS A MORON

AND VOLCANO GOD BLEW UP OUR PLANET

Robots, yelling, and some variousness.

---

"Frank, get your ass in here!" Dr. Stormdrain was upset again at his assistant's incompetence. Of course, his name is just an approximation. "Where the hell are those three robots I wanted!" Frank was overworked, underpaid, and he had some kind of warts on his wunk pocket. You don't want to know what that is, so I'll spare you the details.

"I'm trying sir, we were out of parts-"

"Why didn't you order more parts then?!"

"You told me to pre-approve all purchases with you-"

"So why didn't you?!! Frank, you are useless as tits on a dirt zebra!"

"Well you were on vacation at the time-"

"Then you should have called and asked!"

"I tried but your wife hung up on me and-"

"Then you should have just ordered them if they were that important!!"

"You said last time 'any more unapproved purchases and I'll have you beheaded for treason'-"

"Well you should have known this was an exception! Frank, I swear, I should just fire you and replace you with a heavy brick!"

"Sir-"

"NOW WHAT?"

"We're also out of heavy bricks."

"Then order some more!"

"The brick factory is backordered for six weeks-"

"Then glue two lighter bricks together!"

"Last time we did that the concrete matrix exploded and you said 'Frank if you ever glue two light bricks together again I'm going to kick you in the wunk pocket!'-"

"Oh right. Well can you melt them down and then turn them into one harder brick?"

"I guess we could try ... how would we do that exactly?"

"I don't know, turn them into some kind of concrete soup and let them harden!"

"And ... and how do we turn them into soup exactly?"

"I don't know that's what I pay you for, now get to work!"

"Aye, sir ..."

Ten minutes later:

"Frank! What's the status of those three robots?"

"Two are done except for the intelligence sir. We're waiting on parts for the third-"

"What kind of parts?! Why didn't you tell me sooner!"

Frank let out a big sigh. Then he reminded the doctor about the conversation they'd had ten minutes earlier. Then he went back to his office and snuck a few drinks. He didn't know how to make concrete soup, let alone glue it back together successfully. Generally if he left it alone for a while Dr. Stormdrain would forget all about it and just start asking where the robots were again.

"FRANK! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"

Frank trudged as slowly as he could into the other room.

"Frank! My phone is out of minutes! I need more minutes!"

"You already have 4000 a month, sir."

"I need unlimited minutes. Buy me unlimited minutes!"

Next door, a cat was drinking out of the toilet. It wasn't a cat exactly, but close enough. And the toilet was kind of weird looking and had some odd devices for cleaning out wunk pockets, but it was pretty much a toilet.

"FRANK!"

"What is it now?"

"This feline is drinking out of my toilet!"

"And?"

"And .. as a conservative, I'm allergic to cats who drink out of toilets! It says in the Bible not to touch a toilet cat with your pinchers ... Get! Get out! "

So, Dr. Stormdrain chased the cat into the hallway, where about this time one of the robots still missing half its intelligence was being transferred into Frank's office by Frank's assistant Nightspoon Fly Dog. Nightspoon was about 3/5ths of Frank's age, and she had warts on her face and intestines. Of course, you couldn't see her intestines. By the way, Frank had an even weirder name than Nightspoon Fly Dog, but it was pretty common among his people. Nightspoon Fly Dog was not a common name, anymore than someone on Earth named Nightspoon Fly Dog would have a common name.

"GRROAAAAWWWWTH OOOOOOOWEEEEEE!" The five eyed popsicle shaped- er, cat- ran face first into the robot, knocking it over while ending his own life. One thing you should know about cats is that they have a tendency to explode violently upon death, scattering the contents of their stomachs into the air around them. It's quite breathtaking to behold, as the flames cause rapid deoxygenation of the air and also it smells really really awful. The robot came to life for about five seconds, squawking and howling like - well, like someone that just woke up with a face full of moldy shit water. The robot managed to utter one and a half sentences during his life:

"SON OF A BITCH FUCK! TSUNAMI!"

For a three second old robot with half a brain, that's not a half bad sentence. Dr. Stormdrain was furious at Frank for having let him cause such a cat-astrophe, and so Frank had to stay late both cleaning up the mess and fixing the robot - aka Glass God. Unfortunately half of Glass God broke in the shit storm, and there was none left to fix him with. Glass God was a bit of a misnomer however, as he was actually made of an odd mixture of glass and polystyrene. Anyway, long story medium, Frank had to use some melted down toys from the daycare and half of some transparent Osmium rods he found in storage. Osmium wasn't called Osmium though, it was called Beefdip. Beef was called living corn, but that's another story. Anyway, Glass God turned out okay in the end - except Beefdip is quite brittle, so sometimes half of his face would fall apart and expose his circuitry. It gave Glass God a bit of a complex, and quite a bit of a complex maintenance procedure. Also Glass God cursed like a sailor on Sacrifice Day, and he never got over his rather harsh introduction to the universe, so Glass God held a bit of a grudge against old Dr. Stormdrain.

Before we get into that, I should tell you about Frank's pet. Frank had a pet. It was a two point five inch tall orange diamond with beady black eyes, a painted on mouth, and also it was a robot. It also had three green wires extruded from the top of its head, so Frank called it, roughly, Drraaapoo-oo-ooobupbup, which translates into English as Carrot Top. I'm not going to call it Carrot Top, because that is homosexual, so I'll call him Bup-Bup. Bup-Bup liked to hover around Frank - literally five feet off the ground - and watch as Frank worked. He also liked summer movies and hiding in air ducts. He was pretty smart for a two inch tall carrot bot. Dr. Stormdrain once tried to eat Bup-Bup in a salad, so Bup-Bup was also not a fan of his.

Dr. Stormdrain also had a pet. It was not a robot. It was a ... dog. Okay it was not a dog at all, but let's pretend it was a dog. Its name was Munchbubble. That was not its name either. Its name was something like "Tiny". But Frank called it Munchbubble, because it was such a fat load that it was almost spherical, and ate everything in sight. Munchbubble looked like if you baked a chihuahua for a few years, then fed it pie and cheese until it started collapsing under its own gravity. It liked to yip a lot and gnaw at Frank's legs when no one was looking. So Frank liked to imagine himself punting it off the roof while no one was looking. Also, unlike a dog, Munchbubble's crap was acidic and full of giant maggots. So, you know, he wasn't very cute.

Frank was working on Glass God's face for the twentieth time late one night and they were chatting about not much of anything, as Frank was the quiet type and didn't have much in common with a robot, when Munchbubble rolled himself into Frank's office.

"Hey there you fat retard, still a moron? If you're a fat moron, just stare at me with a stupid look on your face. Oh, confirmed!"

Glass God started chuckling. Frank started to think maybe they could have something in common after all. Munchbubble drooled a bit and started yipping and farting acid fumes.

"Fuck me! I swear [dog], one of these days I'm going to shoot you into the middle of an asteroid belt."

That's when Glass God joined in. "Asteroid belt? He still couldn't wear it!" Both of them started laughing their asses off. Though Glass God couldn't because he didn't really have an ass, and Frank's ass was already detachable. That was when Munchbubble started howling, grew a second head, farted a little, and exploded, leaving a crater in the floor and a swarm of bugs that flew up, around Frank's head, and started burrowing their way into his scalp.

"SON OF A BITCH! HELP!" The bugs were laying eggs next to Frank's brain, then flying away to die. Unfortunately, no one knew about this until it was too late.

"Hey whoa, get out of there! Hey! Help!" Glass God looked around for something to squash the bugs off with, but he couldn't find anything but various tools and some shards of Beefdip. He couldn't very well swat them with his arms, or Frank would have bugs and glass shards in his skull. It was a cacophony of buzzing, screaming, and scraping glass against the metal floor, when someone else started screaming over both of them. Dr. Stormdrain had ran into the room in a panic.

"FRANK!! WHAT DID YOU DO TO TINY?!"

I'm attempting to do NaNoWriMo this year. You never know if I'll bitch out early or what, but at least for now I'm going for it.

I'm breaking the rules and turning my volcano god stories into something novel length, so I'm not starting from the beginning from scratch. Deal with it. Click on for the story.

---

There was a planet full of camels. Okay, that has no relevance to the story, but I think it’s hilarious. Camel lunch ladies and baseball players and shit. So a couple of months later an intern had a few too many and snuck into the radio station late at night. He'd had enough of people asking the centuries old volcano creature thing inane questions about themselves instead of about himself and where he came from. Problem was, everyone was so self absorbed that it never occurred to them to ask. Of course, it was just a radio show, so maybe they had better things to do. Wacky voices and people throwing pies at the weird DJ or whatever. The guys in charge of the space program had asked long ago - and didn't get anything. But it had occurred to the intern many times. He'd asked to sneak in a question or two of his own, and was told "people don't want to hear this stuff".

"Hh..hey volcano god, you out there?

Wake up ... wa... wake up! ... please, please wake up"

The volcano creature slid out of a hole in the base of the volcano.

WHATS UP MAN

"Where ... hic ... where did you come from? What are you?"

INSIDE THE VOLCANO

"Yeah but .. you know ... uhhhhhghhhgh where, what planet ... "

IT BLEW UP

“But where was it? Like ... like ..... “

ANOTHER SOLAR SYSTEM

“So there were other ... vf .... other volcano gods?”

I’M NOT A GOD I’M JUST A ROBOT

“A .... a what?!”

ROBOT, MAN

“You’re a .. vol ... volcano robot?”

ORGANIC BASED ANDROID TECHNICALLY

“Were there other .. organic based androids? Like a .. water bot?”

WELL NO, THAT’S CRAZY

“And what’s your name anyway, like, what did they call you?”

Fifteen light years away, on a cold planet covered in mud and pissy microbes, another conversation was starting. It was the kind of conversation that no one believes when you repeat it to them later. Like you won’t, right now. It was between a creature made of steel beams like an optical illusion that doesn’t quite make sense, and two big slurping lizards with solid black skin, three eyes, and one of them had a bit of an eye twitch. Also, one of their daughters was a prostitute, but I won’t say which one.

“Hey ... hey! That thing is alive!”

“Are .. are you sure? It doesn’t .. HOLY CRAP! Okay yeah those are some scary ass eyes .. “

WHOA

“Hey he .. he wrote something on himself? No it just ... it just appeared .. what’s it say?”

IT SAYS WHOA

OH GOD, OH GOD HELP ME

“I don’t know, looks like some weird language I’ve never seen before .. Hey, back off!”

JUST - HOLD STILL

I’M GONNA BE SICK OH GOD

“Hey it’s got me! Help! Helllp! Sllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh! Lliillllllllllllrrrrrrr!”

But it was too late. The creature had surrounded him, and was vibrating wildly. One black lizard looked at the other black lizard and couldn’t figure out what to do. If he shot it, he’d hit his lieutenant, and poker buddy. If he didn’t, this thing might eat them both. Of course, nothing was really happening to him.

“Should I ... what do I do?!”

“I don’t ... he’s not really doing anything except ... vibrating a lot ... “

HOLD ON ALMOST DONE. SO GROSS

“It doesn’t ... hurt?”

“It’s just kind of cold”

OH GOD I’M SO SORRY

“There’s some more writing ..”

DING! The creature emitted a weird sound that, translated to English, sounds like “DING!”, retracted some of his arms, and let the lizard out. Then he started hopping around, sort of, in as anxious a manner as a creature made of metal bars can.

SORRY ABOUT THAT

“Hey I can read it now!”

“So you were absorbing our language I guess?”

IT ALWAYS MAKES ME NERVOUS

“What ... are you?”

I’M JUST A ROBOT, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT

“I’m Steve, this is Carl ...”

“I’m Carl.”

“I just said that Carl!”

HELLO CARL, HELLO STEVE

“What’s your name? Do you have a name .. “

STEEL GOD

“You - you’re a god?”

NO THAT’S JUST MY NAME MY CREATOR WAS KIND OF OFF

“Off what?”

YOU KNOW. HE WASN’T ALL - HE WAS CRAZY

“I’m hic I’m .. Stanley BLLLEEEEEHHHHHH!”

Stanley barfed all over the floor and passed out, just in time to miss the volcano organic based android lifeform say his name for the first time to any of the people of Ransom:

MY NAME IS LAVA GOD

DUDE. YOU THERE

DRINK SOME WATER

“So did he make other uh, robots?”

YEAH HE DID. I DON’T KNOW WHERE THEY ARE. I’M SO ALONE

You might say Steel God had some malfunctioning emotion circuits. You might say that, but you’d be wrong. He was just neurotic. And, well - he had Problems.

“Is there a water robot? That would be awesome ... heh not that - not that you’re not awesome!”

“Nice one Carl.”

“Shut up!”

NO THERE’S NO WATER GOD. I GUESS. I HOPE NOT, THAT WOULD BE CREEPY. SENTIENT WATER? OH GOD NO, NO NO NO

“So what other ones are there? Where are they?”

I DON’T KNOW I WAS THE LAST ONE HE MADE BEFORE THE PLANET EXPLODED BUT I’VE HEARD THERE’S A LAVA GOD

“Lava? Cool, does he like melt stuff?”

MAYBE, I DON’T KNOW, ALL I KNOW WAS HE WENT CRAZY AND THEY SHOT HIM INTO SPACE

“Went crazy? What’d he do?”

BLEW UP THE PLANET. OH GOD, I ALMOST DIED, IF I HAD BEEN THERE ANYWAY

Meanwhile, fifteen light years away ... there was a bird passed out on the floor of a bird radio station. And it was the beginning of the end.

DUDE YOU THERE

“Help ... help me ... oh god help me ... I’m never drinking syrup again ...”

HELP YOU, ALRIGHT

And with that, Stanley invited the Lava God to come join him, and vampire style, unannounced, unexpected, he transported himself off the volcano planet and into a radio studio in the middle of a field on a planet full of creatures that didn’t have long left to live.

Okay, the prostitute was Carl’s daughter Fllllirrrblllaaaaaaa. It doesn’t translate to English very well so I’ll just call her Fat Tongue Face. Okay, fine, I’ll call her something else ... Sammy Hagar. Sammy Hagar was a prostitute who sold her lizard vagina for tokens and .. what? Distracting? Fine I’ll call her Sally. You’re no fun. I prefer Fat Tongue Face. So did half her hometown.

“How did you - how”

I TRANSPORTED

EAT THIS LAVA TRIANGLE

“I can’t eat lava ... BLLLLEHHH!!!! L...lava triangle? Give it here .. “

IT’S NOT HOT

“Okay I’ll AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

WELL, HEAT HOT

IT’S KIND OF SPICY PROBABLY

“GODAAAAAAAAAAAAAMNNNNNNNNITTTT! Hhhhaaaaaak! Hakkkkk! You son of a bitch you almost k - killed me!”

FEELING BETTER

“Hey .. hey yeah! I’m ... BLLLRRRAPPP HAHHH GHAAA TEEEEEFFFFHHHHH GAAAA! What the fuck??!”

OOPS I FORGOT. SHIT DUDE

Stanley had eaten a fancy lava triangle, which was really a fancy triangle of a special organic liquid that just resembled lava. Unbeknowst to him, the lava god’s powers reversed themselves, and Stanley found himself speaking an ancient language that you technically need three tongues and a dead cat to pronounce properly. He also started remembering things from the lava god’s past, like a certain planet exploding, and some robots being shot into space for causing it.

“Holy f...HOLY FUCK! AAAGRRRAAA! TTAAAYAH HARRRRA RAH RAH KKKKKAAAAA!”

And Stanley ran out of the room screaming at the top of- okay chirping at the top of his lungs. Which as it turns out, is not very loud.

Fifteen point one light years away, Sally was sitting on her dad’s drinking buddy Red Toedick’s face when .. what? Fine. But from now on, I’m telling the story my own way, alright?

CAN YOU GUYS GET ME OFF THIS PLANET. IT’S SO BORING HERE

“Yeah sure .. “

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DISSECT ME ARE YOU. PLEASE DON’T DISSECT ME

“Dissect? No how would we - you’re a robot right, what good would that do?”

JUST DON’T DISSECT ME. I’M - I’M POISONOUS, PROBABLY

“Nobody’s going to dissect you - we’re just explorers - hey maybe you can do some interviews on TV though-

TV? I DON’T KNOW, DON’T THOSE ROT YOUR BRAIN. OH GOD I DON’T WANT MY BRAIN TO ROT

“No, no not anymore since the Acid Wars of Rancid Yogurt 4 ...”

THAT SOUNDS HORRIBLE. OH GOD YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIP ME IN ACID ARE YOU

“Jesus Chris-NO! We’re not going to do anything to you!”

“Calm down Carl, he’s been here for years by himself, and he doesn’t know who the hell we are!”

“Well do we look like we dip robots in acid?!”

Yeah, actually, they did look exactly like that.

So back on Ransom, Lava God went looking for Stanley, to see if he was alright - after all, his beak wasn’t made for speaking Multiangled Unicorn - and luckily it was night. Unluckily, it was the Night of the Thousand Drunk Fuckers (that’s the English translation of course) and the streets were packed with drunk birds in what you might as well call speedos, hot pants, and head condoms. And they saw the Lava God, and didn’t really care where he came from - they wanted to party. And party they did. In a manner of speaking. More accurately, they started a full scale riot trying to high five him and get him to absorb their knowledge. So he moved as fast as he could away from them, into a park in the center of town, where the main concert act of the night was playing.

“AND YOU CAN SHOVE THAT SEED UP YOUR- fuckin’ ass it’s the volcano god!”

And as the crowd stared at him, he suddenly remembered why he wasn’t supposed to leave his planet, and he wanted to get back there. But unfortunately for him, he couldn’t muster the strength to teleport back without a new energy supply. So all he could manage was a rather weak, for the situation:

HEY GUYS WHAT’S UP

ANYBODY NEED A LIGHT