"OH, CARTMAN!"

Eighteen-year-old Eric Theodore Cartman surveyed the rocking redheaded mass below him with glee. Encouraged by the raucous outburst from his ginger friend, the young man thrust his manly manliness deep into his partner's deepest catacombs. This earned him a shout of encouragement.

A viscous white liquid emerged from his partner's front side, spilling onto the lime green sheets of the bed. With a shout and a final thrust, the man named Eric shot his infectious seed deep into Kyle's-

"Oh! Thank you, Eric!"

Wait a minute, he thought. That voice isn't Kyle's...

Sheila Broflovski pulled her ass off of him, cock snot oozing onto her son's bed sheets. A pregnant pause emanated throughout the room.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Eric vociferated vicariously.

"You see, Eric, for decades I've concealed this. This monstrosity...my penis. I'm secretly a man. My andropause operation was unsuccessful, leaving me desperate for sex. My bubbeh and you are so close together, so I thought I'd masquerade as him to get the pleasure I deserve." Sheila finished with a slasher smile as she licked up the mess on the sheets.

"EW! You're the biggest bitch I've ever met, Kyle's Mom! I'm horrified! We are never having sex again, do you hear me?"

She grinned. Grinned, I grimaced.

I bounded down the stairs three at a time and reached the kitchen. And there he was – my real boyfriend: Kyle, the man of the house whose ass I write poetry about. Gerald was making burritos on the stovetop.

Emerald orbs flashing, Kyle leaned in for a passionate kiss. I sighed with contentment as he repeatedly licked my neck with his love. Oh, Kyle, what would I ever do without you?

Our tongues met their matches, engaged each other and dove into the crevices of their counterparts. In the background, Gerald slathered mayonnaise on his burrito and put it in the General Electric oven. The odor of garlic ironically diffused within the room.

As our passionate kiss ended, I realized I was still running from Sheila.

"Sorry, Kyle, I gotta go! But I'll bring you that French maid outfit soon!" I promised as I leaped outside into the backyard, my eyebrows growing bushier with each step.

He winked at me with his devilish green snake eyes, making a twirling motion with his finger. I gasped audibly as I landed in the snow and nearly came again, just from the thought of Kyle as a sexy French auburn maid. He meant business. I swooned.

You know who else means business? My adorable little sixteen-year-old sister. You probably haven't met her: her name is Theodora the Fourth Dionysius Olympus Luna Sakura Glitter Cartwoman, the most beloved resident of South Park. But please, call her Theo.

She stroked her cat, Magnificat the Fourth, nicknamed "Brainiac". Four like me, she thought with a Cheshire cat grin. He was the son of Mr. Kitty, bless his departed soul.

Eric pondered the virtues of Theo. She was the kindest, most awesome sister he could ever hope to have; the purest soul. He shook his head with a frown as he thought of all the sins and vices of South Park; surely his little sister deserved better. She was maturing now, he thought fondly. He could talk to her in a way he could to no one else, confiding his deepest secrets in her while maintaining trust and intimacy at the utmost level. As siblings, they had an unnaturally amazing bond and understanding of each other.

"Does Brainiac want some food?" she crooned.

The cat sat up from his position on the litterbox and advanced towards the saucer of 35% milk his owner was offering.

"Mmmmm..." he thought as he slurped the milk, the fatty lactose that forms the basis of all milk slowly descending through his digestive tract.

But what a sister she was! As he leapt over the hedge in Kyle's backyard, Eric recalled many instances years earlier which exemplified her virtue and compassion for everything in existence. He had nothing but the greatest respect for her; he, like most of the town, could only stand in awe at her magnificent accomplishments.

Exhausted, the girl decided to resume her nap. She had much work to do later today.

"I feel like Mother Teresa," she thought as she drifted into slumber.

Standing in front of his boyfriend's front door, a panting Eric Cartman gave himself a high-five over escaping Sheila. He risked one last glance behind him. As his gaze travelled to Kyle's bedroom window, he realized two things: one, that he had not been pursued, and two, that Sarah Jessica Parker was having the time of her life in there. With Kyle's mom, of course.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH, SARAH! Your eructation!" the open window screamed.

Deeply cringing, Eric forced himself to shake his head and return to his house. It was negative forty degrees outside and snowing. Turning around once more, he did a double take. It was...the General! The one behind Project Imagination Doorway! In nothing but his birthday suit! But why was he in the street?

"CITIZENS, please, run for your lives! Imaginationland is upon us!" The bearded, grey-haired man shouted into the street. "The rift to the Emo world has been breached! The fusions will take you all, if you do not run! All, I say! The doorway has failed! Please, citizens, you need to run for your lives! Your wives and children! The doorway! Fusions will destroy you all, if you do not run for your lives! Please, sir, I urge you, run for your life! And you, little sir in front of the green house, please, grab your amazingly beautiful sister and run for your life! Imagination Doorway is upon us! The Emo world has been opened!"

His bushy grey beard flared and flapped in the air in front of his hair as a massive earthquake began at his feet.

"NO! NO! They've got me! They've got me! Save yourselves from the Emos! Please, if you desire mercy for your souls, citizens!"

As the ravine in the street expanded, the bushy-beard General and his grey hair could not stay still any longer. Tying his blood vessels into a rope, he threw it like a lasso onto Kyle's mailbox, suspending himself over the precipice by his teeth as he fell in the big, deep, dark hole.

"You will never take me alive! Never, titans of the earth! If I do not make it out alive, the great Donald Trump will avenge us all! He believes in our God-given rights to self-protection, which He set out in the constitution. He approves this message. Mr. Trump is only calling for a temporary ban on Muslims entering the United States, until we can figure out what's going on. That's not so unreasonable, is it? He'll quickly bomb the shit out of them and get Exxon to suck out all the oil. And he'll build a wall over our southern border that Mexico WILL pay for, right after he infiltrates and shuts down that internet with Bill Gates! Once we open up the shooting range, it'll be $50 per Mexican burned! Who's with me?"

He was met by a rousing cheer. Mr. Garrison's heart was sincerely touched, and he began the building of a monument to honor the fallen.

"As my life dangles from and by a really literal thread, I have one last thing to say!" The grey-haired, bearded General grimaced as he continued.

"Does it not occur to you how we could have prevented this catastrophe? We've connected ourselves to their worlds! Brown people will soon invade us! We will not have anything to live for, and our oil will be robbed! That is what happens when there's too much global warming! You humans wasted your resources, polluted your environment and burned up too much cow shit, and now terrifying monsters from another dimension are attacking us! This is all our fault! The evil liberal media convinced us to vote a terrorist from Kenya into office, and soon the socialist fascist will force us all to convert! I don't have much longer now! Stop global warming! Stop the fascist! Vote Trump!"

Suddenly, the ravine closed and the General disappeared with it.

"You're an asshole!" the voice of redhead Kyle echoed through the street. "How dare you?"

"KYLE?!" Cartman cried out, his voice full of joy.

"Your balls were not sucked fast enough that one time! That guy may as well be an Emo!"

Cartman gasped in horror. Surely even the General wasn't that bad? As he thought this, the front door slammed.

"Bubbeh! Why are you barricading the door with a nail gun?" the voice of Sheila called out, between moans from Sarah Jessica Parker.

"No raisin, mom!"

"Oh, okay then, bubbeh! You be careful!"

"OH, SHEILA!"

Cartman shook his head and tried to turn away. But suddenly, someone else was watching the window. It was...DUMBLEDORE! Or so he thought.

Cartman scratched his head. This stranger was in all grey. Could it be...? Suddenly, he realized and gasped. It was...GANDALF! He was chewing noisily as he stared at the window from which moans continued to come, sitting on his magic broomstick.

"Uh, Mr. Gandalf, sir, what are you doing here?"

The second of the Istari of Eru Ilúvatar and friend of Manwë of the Greatly Lazy Deus Ex Machina Eagles glared at him with his piercing blue eyes that many said gave him x-ray vision. "Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to turn on, young Padawan. She was not late, nor was I early. They arrived precisely when we meant to." And with that, he resumed his focused chewing.

Scratching his head, the man turned around and headed for the Cart(wo)man residence. But suddenly, he gasped. It was...STAN!

Kyle's fifty-year-old super best friend snickered at the sight of the fat man scarcely out of his teen years.

"Come to deprive me of my pleasure, forsooth?" Stan stated menacingly, his tongue sliding in front of his teeth as he wafted his putrid limburger cheese breath in front of him like a dragon's conical breath weapon. He sat upon a steel grey Harley motorbike that looked like it possessed thousands of dollars' worth of performance enhancements, very expensive gasoline and a gel saddle.

VROOM! VROOM! VROOM!

"Stan! This ends now, you gay fag! You're not corrupting Kyle any more than you already have! A true hero has appeared, and he will put an end to your destructive rampage. For the sake of the whole world, I, ERIC, will strike you down!"

Pulling out a PT92C compact pistol, Stan swished his elegant black hair in a loop-the-loop and fired twelve rounds into the other's chest without hesitation.

"D-damn it...so even that power...my determination to save the entire world from Stan...it wasn't enough?"

"Damn right it wasn't! And now y'all pissed me off, and I need some please-ure, so you an' me, we gon' have some FUN, mate." He winked, exposing long years of lust for the fat man's anal confines.

Cartman, with a look of resignation, cast his eyes to the ground. He knew now the older man was going to rape him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Curses, Nayru!

Stan advanced forward and pulled off his wig, exposing the second worst comb-over in history. Pulling down his pants, he stroked his erect seventeen-inch penis for several minutes before pinning the fat man down to the ground.

"Do you know what my fetishes are, fat boy?" He asked lecherously.

"Nope." Cartman responded.

"Stomach fat, orange juice, and sweat collected from athletes." He calmly said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You've got one of those three, and I've got the other two."

"No." Cartman expostulated.

"Yes!" Stan ejaculated.

The wigless man now thrust his penis deep into the anal confines, blobs of fat bouncing against the walls of his cock as he thrusted. He came almost immediately, his seed, his baby gravy, travelling deep into Eric's intestines, seeking the mate it would never meet.

"Ah, that felt great."

Switching positions, he turned the fat man onto his back and lost himself licking and biting the mounds and mounds of fatty stomach fat. On his mark's belly, a lone pubic louse used the fat man as a trampoline to jump repeatedly towards heaven, reminiscing about the sweetheart he had met on the Berlin Wall and lost in the Vietnam War.

"O Kelleh! Your heart was so pure, and our babeh was born in the confines of Hillary Clinton's snatch at your request. You were too good for this sinful earth!"

Five minutes later, Stan lost interest in chewing up and spitting out tufts of hair and fat, choosing instead to grind his penis between two mounds as he flattened his opponent's posterior like a pancake with his strong, burly hands. His seed exploded and spilled all over his adversary's stomach as he played Chrono Trigger on his 1997 Special Edition Nintendo Entertainment System.

Whipping out a can of whipped cream in one swift motion, he aimed at Cartman's face and sprayed, revealing a torrent of orange juice that stung his target's eyes as its smelly citric acid expanded to cover the entire facial area and seep into the snow below. Burying his tongue and his cock into the confusion, he continued his quest of domination, eagerly undertaking spelunking with his membrane in the depths of Cartman's throat as he nuzzled himself against the back of the brunette's orange-flavored hair.

It seemed like no time at all had passed before cock snot exploded in the back of Eric's throat. It took the fat man every effort to prevent himself from choking as he chugged it down involuntarily. He yearned for the liposuction his mother had promised him if he was a good boy.

"The grand finale!" Stan manically announced. "I collected this sweat from Bill Cosby myself with a yellow mop that had a checkered green pattern on it!"

"He's an athlete?"

"In a way." Stan smiled lovingly, slathering the oily substance on his penis as he thrust himself once more through Cartman's anal canal, the pain tearing the fat man apart.

"A little rough, Stan."

"I'm so sorry." Stan pulled out for a moment and searched his bag of supplies, emerging with a bucket of liquid cement. "This should make things better," he said, coating his already greasy cock with the mixture.

The lubricant worked, but it was rough as Stan continued to relentlessly plow deeper and deeper into Cartman's large intestine.

With a shout, Stan came once more, his sperm travelling far enough to reach the small intestine. It was then that they were interrupted.

As he pulled out, Stan noticed a crowd of schoolchildren were jogging down the street, followed by their teachers. He slapped his palm to his face and remembered: it was the Terry Fox Run today!

"Shit, I'd better hide this rape I'm committing."

Grabbing the shovel from Kyle's shed, I quickly scooped up slush from the street and dumped it on Cartman's body. I felt like a stock broker as I went through the pump-and-dump motions five times, eventually thoroughly concealing Eric's body beneath the salty wet snow. Finally, I rinsed off my cock in the snow and stuck it in my jogging pants.

Just in time to meet my vice-principal, Victoria! I had been the exemplary principal of South Park Elementary off and on for eight years now, between my recreational trips to Mexico to resupply my happiness. A crowd of kids trailed behind her, stopping as they saw their principal to gaze in awe. Oh, how I loved being the school's most famous history teacher!

"Hey kids, remember our lecture yesterday?" They nodded excitedly.

"So, after the creation of pierogis in Poland and their emigration to Mother Russia, Marx took over the Thirteen Colonies and established the theory we know today as 'communism' which our dirty nagger president personifies."

Principal Victoria continued. "That's right, kids, and after that, Lenin the Terrible overthrew Stalin and became the third Tsar – that's the president - of Beijing, Putin being the heroic first example of an incumbent for that position."

As she and I lectured, the fascination of these children for our words of wisdom grew exponentially. I was reaching a particularly exciting point in the dialogue. I almost came.

"And then, kids – remember this, 'cause it'll be on the test next week, after Moses climbed Mt. Ebott and walked on top of the Indian Ocean, he brought back the Ten Commandments, using FedEx (who charged him extra for the weight of the packaging, those dicks) to deliver them to Socrates for him to show the world, just before he died of wedlock poisoning. And THAT'S how we know Jesus, bracelets aside, was right in coming down to Earth, leading the Crusades and teaching us all that we know today, except for that part where Cthulhu destroyed San Francisco and killed the evil tyrant Justin Bieber. Oh, and the whole episode with Mecha-Streisand, of course." A shudder overtook the crowd at this last mention.

"With these Ten Commandments, children," Chef continued, striding in to give his advice. "We were taught the values by which we must all live our lives."

"For example, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's possessions. Steal them instead."

"Father Maxi will tell you more," I concluded. "Now keep running for cancer!"

Kyle called to me, "Wasn't it against cancer?"

"Same thing, these pricks didn't salute me so they deserve it."

"How can I get through to these keeds?" I wondered aloud.

That said and done, Stan smiled another one of his trademark Cheshire cat grins and dove into the watery semi-frozen slush he'd piled up, resuming the domination of his prize.

"Okay, Cartman," he grinned and bore it. "I'm willing to let you off easy...this time. But you'll have to do me a favor or two first."

A sadistic slasher smile worthy of Sheila overtook his rugged, charming face.

"What's that?"

"My dear dog Sparky and my uncle Jimbo's two horses need to be pleasured. From what I remember, you already have experience with the latter, so should be a piece of cake. Suck them all dry and I'll let you go."

Stan withdrew to reveal the three animals he'd been hiding in the trunk of his truck. An energetic brown homosexual dog and two recognized horses galloped towards Cartman and awaited their reward.

"That's a good boy!" Stan exclaimed, scratching behind his dog's ears as he began to jack it furiously, ironically being the only human watching the egregious scene.

Cartman bit his lip, drawing blood as he began to suck the shit out of the erect dog penis. It was covered in insect eggs that he didn't want to know the origin of. It felt leathery against his soft-skinned mouth, a testicle-like bulge ironically preventing him from laving the full eighteen-inch length with his elegant tongue.

Eventually, he felt excited vibrations from the dog's tail as he continued sucking on the exquisite membrane, Jimbo's two horses waiting patiently as Stan looked on, dick in hand. Without any warning, a huge burst of species-incompatible sperm was shooting down his throat. He nearly vomited from its disgusting taste, but was interrupted when Stan's latest load exploded onto his face.

"Keep going," he advised, a golden twinkle in his eye and a golden ticket in his hand.

Next on the wash list was Whinnie, the youngest of Jimbo's horses. Eric tried his best to establish a regular rhythm with the horse's nineteen-inch dick bouncing into his larynx, but it proved impossible, so he just coped with the unbearable pain. It didn't take long, because Whinnie and his sexy penis were excited and couldn't want to unload cock snot down Cartman's trachea more. Which it did, just in time to duck out of Stan's synchronized ejaculation on the man's face and another limburger cheese belch.

Finally, the only horse that remained, ironically, was Hercules, who had a full twenty-inch cock at its beck and call. The horse wasted no time in thrusting down Cartman's throat, ripping through the roof of his mouth as it came, its first orgasm in months lasting a full thirty seconds before the waves of sperm stopped pouring down his esophagus.

Cartman finally managed to suck it all down as Stan released his final shot into Cartman's ass.

"There you go! You're free now!"

Gagging, Cartman got up, furious at the man who had brought him so much torment.

"Fuck you Stan! You're an Emo and a cutter!"

Stan gasped loudly, his eyes shrinking in size. He fell onto the ground and started bawling uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. He pounded the ground with his fists in sorrow and anger.

Kyle burst out of his front door and gave the situation a brief look-over. Seeing his super best friend in distress, he quickly came to his rescue and gave him a big hug.

"There, there, it'll be okay..."

"No, it won't be! He called me an Emo!"

Kyle turned towards Cartman, a look of shock framed between his auburn curls.

"Cartman! How COULD you?"

Cartman felt like the scum of the earth. Even after all this, Stan was a good guy. He didn't deserve to be called an EMO. It was the vilest insult in the United States, the implications so profoundly diabolical that it could get you incarcerated for life.

"I-I'm sorry, Stan. I didn't mean to." Stan nodded in understanding.

"It's okay, Cartman. I was kind of a dick to you earlier."

"We all good now?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just wish he'd stop doing that."

"I'm sure he will."

"OH, SARAH!"

"I really do think Trump will make America great again. He's the best choice for our country."

"Ow, you stepped on my foot!"

"Nice one, Garrison! Your castle fucking sucks!"

"The doorway! The doorway, I say!"

"It's a monument, damn it!"

"Are those his horses? Hercules, over here!"

"Where's Theo? I need to tell her I love her!"

"Me too!"

"We love you, Theo!"

"What the hell happened to my trees?"

"Hey, is that Gandalf? Why does he have a video camera?"

"Maxi! You just missed them!"

"Mind your own business or YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

"OH, SHEILA!"

"Yeah, I think I'll be okay." Stan said, wiping his eyes of tears. "I have Asperger's, you know, it's difficult to control."

Cartman nodded compassionately. "Then I forgive you. But be a little less rough next time, okay?"

"Okay." He said gratefully.

The three good friends shared a hug of forgiveness, Eric eventually pulling away as he mumbled his need to check on his sister.

"See you guys at school tomorrow!" I called ironically as Stan drove away in his car.

---

She was the Goth to my Vampire, the quantum physics textbook to my Cthulhu mythos readings. My beautiful, awesome sister, so successful she'd already jumped to the sixth grade, my friends and I still being in fourth. Basically, she looks a lot like Megan Fox and Selena Gomez, if those two were combined into a sixteen-year-old princess. The heart of every guy on the street adored her; it was her choice to make as they were dazzled by her glowing smile.

I sighed as I returned from my exhausting ordeal with Kyle. I was beginning to suspect I'd have to look elsewhere for the true passion and intimacy I desired in a partner.

My adorable little sister had the highest IQ in South Park, a modest 255, and yet had managed to make several wondrous discoveries in the fields of nuclear physics, aviation and astronomy. She'd twice won the Nobel Peace Prize at the tender age of eleven and made us the richest family in South Park.

I walked up to my front door, politely greeting our Lebanese doorman, Anthony C.N.E.T. Weiner. A family tradition dictated that at least two of four residents in each family household must have at least four middle names. It was a bit odd, but we'd grown accustomed to it. It gave us culture, after all, which the Cartman family is renowned for here in Colorado.

Tossing my coat onto the steps behind me, I ascended the stairs at a rapid rate. I needed to take a shit really badly. As I reached the bathroom door, I was surprised to see it open, but I forgot all my worries when I saw my beautiful sister, Theodora the Fourth Dionysius Olympus Luna Sakura Glitter Cartwoman had emerged from it. But remember, please call her Theo!

If she looked at herself in a mirror, she would see a shockingly kawaii reflection. In a moment of weakness, she'd confessed to me that she thought her beauty was a curse at times. Oh, if only she knew how the world thought of her! She was too modest.

She was adorned with elegantly natural cyan locks atop icy green roots, tied neatly at the back of her head with a diamond-encrusted golden hairnet, two long strands flowing down to meet the back of her soft neck. Her pearl earrings framed each side of her fair-skinned face, which was complemented by her two shining violet-orange orbs that could stare right into your soul when she trained them on you, seemingly alternating in color with her every subtle shift in mood.

After a quick sniff of her enchanting aroma, my eyes travelled to admire her outfit of the day. She was wearing a heart-shaped red crystal tiara affixed with miniature sapphires, rubies and fine emeralds. She was 6'2'', weighed 75 lbs. (though she'd been trying to drop that to 70) and wore an exotic frilly dress that shimmered onyx like the feathers of a raven, with a pattern of sunflowers and multi-colored unicorns to match with her lovely hair. On her back was the katana she carried everywhere she ventured.

"Kawaii!" she greeted me. "How are you, my brother?"

"I'm doing great, Theo!" I happily replied and embraced her in a hug. She really was getting more mature! Heck, she was almost my age! I could feel the faint pressure of her huge breasts as we hugged for many long minutes, finally breaking apart with smiles on our faces. She shook her aquamarine hair and gave me the pleasure of her attention.

"How are you doing today?"

"Amazing, Theo! Why can't I talk to Kyle the way I talk to you?" I pondered out loud.

"Because we're brother and sister."

"Yeah, excellent point, sis! Your insight is just...brilliant. You've always understood me so well!" I beamed at her.

"Oh, heck, that's nothing. Golly, gosh, gloriosky! I'm going to school now."

"Have a great day! And tell me if anyone makes a move on you, okay? I'll get Stan to beat them up for you."

"Eric! Hajimemashite!"

"Just kidding. But really, please do!"

Eric Cartman descended into his basement via the elevator, where the gang was waiting for him. Ah, the gang. A homely collection of beer-stained sports magazines and great times.

"Hey, Eric!" Buddy shouted.

"Yo, Eric!" Ralphie squealed like a piggy, half-drunk.

"Hey guys! Is the game on tonight?" His eyes travelled to the television.

"Why else would we be here? You want a beer, mate?" offered Jackie, who was by the ornate antique beer fridge.

"Sure thing, Jackie, thanks." Jackie tossed a beer and Eric caught it.

"Anyone else want one?" Jackie interrogated.

"Yeah, I could use one!" Ralphie called.

"Me too!" Buddy shouted.

"Gimme one too, eh?" called Jerry from the bathroom, where he'd disappeared to after a loud warning of his excretion plans. As he made the announcement he walked in, licking Cheesy Poof residue from his fingers and crinkling the bag.

"The Wi-Fi here sucks, man!" He exclaimed angrily.

There was a collective sigh amongst the gang. Jerry.

"All right, guys, we have a game to watch!" Cartman yelled in the way only a high school gym teacher could.

"Woot hoot!" The gang called in reply.

---

Theo stepped outside of her house. Remembering she had forgotten her kawaii lipstick, she dashed back upstairs, ironically, to the bathroom.

"Red, green, blue, orange, yellow, or purple? Golly gee, what a choice!" she thought. "Red is elegant, blue is sexy, green is lively, orange is dazzling, yellow is sunny, and purple is graceful...I think I will go for an elegant look today." Carefully examining her perfect face with her glowing orbs, she meticulously applied bright red lipstick to her smooth lips.

Dashing back downstairs, she realized she was almost late for the bus! She knew her mother's ancestors would disapprove of cursing as it was unladylike. Fighting back the urge, she entered the streets of South Park and ran to the bus stop, her dress flowing behind her like Batman's cape.

"Whew! Sorry, I'm almost late, guys!"

Stan and Kyle were staring at her, eyes as wide as Cartman's asshole.

"Will you two stop staring at my boobs? God, I'm so beautiful it's a curse, and it's all because of people like you!" she expostulated with frustration.

"Theo!" Kyle said softly. "We're really sorry. We're not worthy of your beautiful youth and youthful beauty and we shouldn't try to take advantage of it like that. Please forgive us."

"Oh, how can I stay mad at you guys?" she said with a grin. They smiled back and started chatting. Theo was Stan's (and Kyle's) super-duper best friend, and they could share all their secrets with her.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the snow behind her. Whipping out her katana, she waved it five times in succession with a menacing snarl.

"Sneaking up on me? Kawaii!" she commented angrily.

A hooded figure approached her slowly, an inscrutable expression in his eyes.

"Oh, it's just you, Kenny. What took you so long?"

"I love you, Theo!"

Suddenly, she slapped him. "No! Bad boy! You're not getting near my you-know-what! I'm still a virgin and I don't plan on doing it before marriage! I am not that kind of girl!"

"Aww..."

Just then, the bus arrived.

"GET INSIDE, BOYS!" Ms. Crabtree bellowed impatiently before getting a closer look.

"Oh, hello, Theo! My daughter's said so many great things about you! Come in, come in, I'll give you and your nice friends the front seats." A kind smile was on the driver's face.

Theo rode for three city blocks on the bus, when suddenly it stopped, still fifteen minutes away from school!

"Crap, the engine's dead. I think the radiator overheated or something, it'll take an hour to fix at best."

Moans filled the back of the bus.

"Aw, damn it! I wanted to see Theo's speech in English! She's so charming!" said Fosse.

"Her daily presentation in Calculus livens the room!" said Trent.

"We love you, Theo!"

"Oh, knock it off, guys, you're making me blush!" she responded, blushing madly. Somehow, this made her look even more cheek-pinchingly adorable.

"I think I can help, Ms. Crabtree? Do you have a wrench?"

"Sure, Theo, go ahead and do what you can."

Theo walked to the front of the bus. While no one was looking, she lifted the hood and loosened her aquamarine hair. Loosening the radiator with the wrench, she hung her hair above the opening, and suddenly fresh water spilled into it as her scalp glowed a brilliant blue! Making sure no one had seen her use her very unique powers not exhibited by anybody else in South Park (or indeed, the world?), she quickly shut the hood and returned to the bus. If people knew what she'd done, she might become hunted – or worse, unpopular at school.

"Did it, Ms. Crabtree!"

"Wonderful, Theo! Sometimes I think you should be driving this ol' thing. You're obviously more qualified than I am to do so. Three cheers for Theo!"

A rousing round of applause was heard throughout the bus.

The bus stopped near the school, but before the students reached the school, a homeless man on his last legs of life approached them.

"Spare some change? I need...soup...or something...whatever you can spare!"

"Aw, you poor soul!" Theo announced. "Here's fifty dollars. Get yourself something nice. If you need more money, I'll be volunteering at the animal shelter later today, so you can meet me there."

"God bless this girl! God bless her, I say!"

"Aw, Kawaii! You people are too nice." Sheathing her katana, she entered the school building, ready for a boring, ordinary day.

When he thought no one was looking, the homeless man, Billy Bob, made a mad dash for XXX Movies Deluxe Inc. and indulged in the crassest pornography magazines, his nauseating breath hovering in the air as his greedy fingers flipped the pages, one hand down his pants as the other held his shiny new bottle of vodka. This man loved vodka so much that he'd started a massive war, nearly enslaving all of humanity several years ago.

Indeed, no one was watching, except one person: Theo, who used her eyes, which had the powers of a telescope, to gaze at the man from the school rooftop.

"Yet another broken soul," she lamented loudly. "That's what homeless people do. Why can't they be smarter? Why can't I help them?" The anguish overcame her. "I can't do anything right! Why has the world come to this? Why?" Her face was forlorn.

It was then that she realized: no matter how many scientific advancements she made, no matter how many hours she spent volunteering to take care of sick and injured animals, no matter how much time she worked as an apprentice for Shigeru Hikaru Smith, the crusading human rights lawyer, there were some problems she could not resolve. The world was not perfect.

The truth overwhelmed her, and she fell to her knees, crying tears of blood for a long while before drifting into an uneasy sleep.

When she awoke, she found herself in an unfamiliar location.

"Where...where am I?" she asked. There was no answer. "Have I been kidnapped?" she thought. "But there aren't any burritos or brown people around..."

Suddenly, she was greeted by a bright, smiling face. "You didn't think we'd forgotten your birthday, had you? And judging by that river of blood on the roof, you're feeling pretty down. We're gonna cheer you up!"

"Stan? B-but...you're a teenager again! How did you do it?"

He shrugged. "Time-Toners, man. They did the trick for Enoby and they did it for me."

"Who now?" I questioned, utterly bewildered.

His face clearly indicated he'd said too much. "Uh, never mind. Listen, how about I tell you about our extra special surprise for you?" He turned on the light to reveal Butters, my crush! And he even brought John Lennon, my idol! And all of my sexual fetishes! This was the best birthday ever!

"Where are the knives." An ominous voice echoed. But maybe I'd just imagined it, deep in the secret basement under the janitor's closet of South Park Elementary.

"Without further ado, then?" Butters grinned as he jumped on me and tried to passionately French kiss me, ballet shoes kicking.

"W-wait, guys! I have a surprise for you three too! Kawaii!" I shouted as I revealed my true power. My aquamarine hair morphed into its true form – venomous, blood-red black. I was a Goth, a valiant protector of the universe, and my sexual partners, my esclaves - noticed the difference.

"Wow! Cool hair!"

"You're the best, Theo!"

"I LOVE you, Theo!" John Lennon said proudly. "We're gonna have so much fun today."

"Wait a minute. Aren't you, like, 75, Mr. Lennon?"

"No, he's now 16 like all of us. Time-Tuners, remember?" Stan answered, a dude-you're-so-retarded look on his face.

"Oh, okay, so he's not a pedo."

"Without further ado, then?" Butters grinned as he jumped on me and tried to passionately French kiss me, ballet shoes kicking. But this time, I let him have the pleasure of my tongue. It felt good.

After we did that for a few minutes, I twirled my fingers around. On cue, Stan and John Lennon began to French kiss too, 'cause they were bisexual. Isn't that so hot?

Suddenly, Butters surprised me. Taking out his fifteen-inch boy thingy, he removed it from his pants and stuck it in mine, in and out, in and out, in and out.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH, BUTTERS!" I screamed as we did it!

"Wow, you're tight!" he screamed as we did it!

"It's my first time." I shyly blushed as I admitted my virginity to him. "Now penetrate me, Butters! Penetrate me like nobody else ever has!"

I was approaching my first earth-shattering orgasm. Oh, how I screamed! It was the most legendary feeling ever. Afterwards, we French kissed some more, before I felt a tingling sensation around my ovaries. John Lennon was penetrating me too!

"C'mon sweetheart, what do you want from me?" he whispered quietly in my left ear.

It was my idol! What was I supposed to say to him, as he handled my breasts in his soft hands? He wanted me to curse, but wasn't that wrong? Then, an overwhelming feeling took me over as I felt his thing hit my prostate.

"FUCK ME, JOHN LENNON! Fuck me to the ends of the earth!" I said, profanely.

"That's a girl!" He replied happily as he thrusted repeatedly behind me and I came.

I then got another surprise, as Stan started French kissing me from the front and penetrating my front four-inch you-know-what with his nineteen-inch thingy. It was then, in a moment of weakness, that he pulled off his wig to reveal his TONS of dark eyeliner and gothic black hair. He was...a GOTH!

"Oh, Stan! I love you! Oh my God, you're gothic too!" I cried as John Lennon shot his stuff up my back and our orgy made me come passively for the third time. "And I love you too, Lennony-bear, kawaii, kawaii!"

When we were all done, we took a nap in the gothic princess-sized bed John Lennon had bought for us from Home Depot.

"More saving. More doing." I thought happily as I drifted into sleep. It was the best sex I'd ever had.

---

A verdant green planet, a verdant green planet ripe for the taking.

I need her power. It is the only thing of value on this wretched "Earth". Nothing else matters.

Once I have collected it all, I can make this world a stinky, dead dust ball. Just how I like them.

Who am I?

I exist somewhere in this town, and that is all.

And now I go.

---

Meanwhile...

A dozen miles away, a blue hovercraft labelled "GAS-GUZZLER 9000" and adorned with a strange emblem made a careful landing in the northwestern Montana Desert. The ship's door opened and out stepped...a man! He peeled a banana and began munching on it.

The man was wearing a white turban, but he was not a terrorist. "I'm white, not brown, after all," he thought with a snicker. He was a round man with a potbelly, soulless black eyes, a thick nose and a bushy moustache. His long black ponytail hair was hidden under his turban. He wore a one-piece white garment atop a brown vest with gold buttons and several pockets.

In one hand was a thick, official-looking document and in the other a leash, which held a monkey, seemingly the man's pet, with a constricting metal collar. The man discarded his empty banana peel as he disembarked the ship using the ramp, the monkey forcibly no more than two feet away from him at all times.

As he reached the ground he waved at the hovercraft, which promptly sealed itself up and departed, bound for the sky.

"All right, little monkey!" he boasted with a nasally laugh that betrayed his obvious lack of soul. "We're going on a little mission, you and I. You understand? I'm only gonna explain this once, so LISTEN UP!"

"Nwehehe! Brown people made a comeback while shouting about prophets or something and destroyed the barrier between Imaginationland and the real world. Therefore, creatures from all worlds and planes of existence are converging, including us. But unlike the regular creatures which will soon engulf the planet and cause chaos, we are men on a mission. Take a look at this mission briefing, monkey."

The monkey struggled with the chain around his neck before realizing it was futile. After all, he loved Da Seevir, his caretaker. He was the one who gave him bananas, and his dear and passionate lover. Resigned to his fate, he read the long document.

MISSION #043X-LLLL-M3-0025
Identification Code: « Déjà Vu 200 »

TARGET PROFILE
Name and Title: Lt. Mary Sue [The Original]
Species: ???
Last Seen Location: The Enterprise, Sick Bay
Physical Description: Variable (see Known Abilities).
Approximate Age: 16 years
Date of Disappearance: 6 months ago

Known History: Was the youngest lieutenant in the fleet of the Enterprise. Immediately upon her arrival, she was propositioned by fleet Captain James Kirk and praised by First Officer Mr. Spock. Went on to single-handedly save the main crew from catastrophe with little effort and win several intergalactic awards before dying heroically, the crew members weeping over her unashamedly. Rumored to have had an excursion at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Currently alive; we have strong reason to believe she is currently located in South Park, Colorado.

Warning: Lt. Mary Sue is not human and very irrational. She is a dangerous adversary, though she doesn't seem to be aware of it, and should be approached with utmost caution.

Known Abilities: Mary Sue is a Reality Warper. If it is with the goal of boosting her ego, which augments her powers, she can bend the laws of time and space to her purposes at-will; this is her most dangerous power. While alive and for a short time after death, she also has the ability to remotely influence and even control the minds of the people around her without effort, bending them to her will. May have other undocumented abilities; beware.

Identification Guide: If we are correct about the girl's location, it should be obvious. She is a walking black hole that absorbs logic and the rules of the universe. Individuals will be behaving wildly uncharacteristically around her to her immense benefit.

Mission Objective: Like all creatures, Lt. Mary Sue is composed mostly of magical goo that grants her these magnificent abilities. Mr. Da Seevir, you along with your monkey "friend" Guacamole must, through the Phasing Ritual, extract her magical goo. When we harness it for our purposes, we can take over all worlds. Good luck. I will be waiting for you.

"Well, that's a mouthful." Guacamole thought. "How are we going to find this chick?"

Da Seevir responded. "First, we're heading to this 'South Park' over in Colorado. On the double! I'll explain the rest on the way."

The energetic duo sprinted through the Montana Desert, Da Seevir pausing only to slaughter any wildlife he encountered using his bare hands.

"It gives me EXP," he laughed diabolically. "The more I kill, the stronger I become."

The monkey named Guacamole laughed incessantly at this remark, tears streaming down his eyes. "Ooh-ooh-aah-aah!"

Da Seevir, suddenly overwhelmed himself, burst into laughter and fell to the ground in his hysteria, slamming his fist on the desert sand repeatedly.

Guacamole, seeing this display, began laughing even more heartily, not even ceasing when he got the hiccups from doing so.

Eventually, their super fun time came to a halt. It was sunset in the desert, and they decided to camp on top of a rock. Da Seevir paused to open his pack. Removing half a spoiled banana, he tossed it over to the monkey. He proceeded to unwrap: a sack full of deli sandwiches, 15 lbs. of beef jerky, five luxurious bananas, a stone-baked pizza with extra cheese, parmesan cheese, feta cheese, green olives, black olives, pepperoni, meatballs, Italian sausage, mushrooms and anchovies (ew, gross) and three different sauces.

"All for me! Ah, what a feast I'll be having! And you won't, monkey, nwehehehe!"

Guacamole smiled. He was used to the abuse, and coming from him, this was relatively mild. He hoped if he put up with it for long enough his lover would be kind enough to jerk him off. His ultimate dream was to be sucked off by his affectionate caregiver, but he knew it was unlikely.

Da Seevir took a bite out of his pizza before getting a thoughtful look on his face. Throwing away his pizza, he rummaged through his pack and ironically brought out a strange device with a red button.

"This is the Zapishizer!" he announced, beginning to consume a deli sandwich. "Ha ha ha, get it? Punish and Zap? Anyway, you can run to the ends of the desert, but thanks to that metal collar on your neck, I don't even need this leash anymore! I can punish you remotely! Let's test it out!" he cried for joy.

Da Seevir pushed and held the red button. A powerful, excruciatingly painful shocking sensation filled Guacamole's furry body. It felt like his lungs were burning, his blood vessels boiling, his cum-filled intestines collapsing on themselves. After what seemed like forever (in reality, only a few seconds passed), the pain stopped, replaced by incessant laughter.

"That's what'll happen if you misbehave. Now open wide, monkey, I have another surprise for you." he said, finishing his deli sandwich. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out an apple made of solid wood.

For a moment, he paused, winking at nothing before instructing the monkey to take a big bite.

Guacamole did, and as he bit into the apple with all his might, he felt his teeth detach from his mouth. Removing the apple from his gob, he saw all thirty of the brilliant white teeth he had fought so hard to preserve, roots and all, were stuck to it. Blood poured from every corner of his mouth, in quantities that made him want to vomit.

Da Seevir at this point was howling with laughter. "What's up, toothless?" he yelled. Guacamole laughed. Though he suffered, he knew his caregiver meant the best for him. Now when he sucked Da Seevir's gangly penis, there was no risk of biting him.

The man carefully extracted one of the monkey's teeth from the apple and popped it into his mouth like a stick of gum, sucking on it thoughtfully. Carefully placing the rest in his pack, he decided to save them for later.

He stood up, and he and Guacamole continued their journey into the night.

When they awoke the next morning, the potbellied man and his monkey smiled at each other mischievously. The fat man quickly pulled down his pants, revealing his smelly, gangly, twenty-two-inch penis to match the monkey's adorable little sixteen-inch counterpart.

The monkey climbed onto him enthusiastically and took the whole length into his mouth, Da Seevir matching him blow-for-blow by thrusting into the back of his furry friend's throat. As he sucked the living shit out of Da Seevir's penis with his kawaii little tongue in an ironic fashion, Guacamole recalled his girlfriend, Cheese Whiz. They had had a wonderful time together before Da Seevir tortured her with rectal food injection, C.I.A. style, and electrified her to death.

"No," he thought fiercely, "I shouldn't think about her. My partner Da Seevir had the right to be jealous of her. She was in his way, and this cute man's mine."

As he thought this, a thick cumshot poured down his throat, the orgasm lasting a full minute before it finally ended. The man and monkey were bonded through time and space.

Eventually, it was lunchtime. The dynamic duo was taking a break from their journey, when they were suddenly attacked by a ridiculously overused dead horse meme, er, I mean, HARAMBE! Quickly, the man and his monkey switched their minds into battle mode! Guacamole had been trained for this. His mind began a stream-of-consciousness in the style of his favorite video games as the epic battle commenced.

* You encountered the Harambe!

[CHECK]

* HARAMBE -10 OFF 25 DEF
* Weak to zookeepers.
* Get OVER it already, Jee-zus!

[BASH]

SMAAAASH! 2408 damage to the Harambe!

* You ripped him to shreds!
* The Harambe collapsed in agony!

* YOU WON!
* You earned 35 EXP and 200 GOLD.
* Your LOVE increased.

Feeling mysteriously empowered as his Level of Violence increased, the monkey turned back to Da Seevir, only to see him with the Zapishizer in hand.

An explosion of agony overcame him, the electricity forcing him to the ground.

"Fool of a monkey! Don't ever use more force than necessary to defeat an opponent! Do you understand me?" he screamed.

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah!" the monkey responded. Da Seevir nodded, calming down.

"There's a way you can make it up to me, and I'll give you a banana, mmmkay?"

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah?" the monkey interrogated.

"I have, here, a video camera. I want you to intensely make out with that dead gorilla while I watch and fap. I am a "necphilak", after all. Do that and I won't zap you again." The fat man, who had grown up as an orphan and been pushed around by his six siblings, a significant factor in his decision to become evil, vociferated aggressively as he chuckled meanly.

In one hand he held and fiercely stroked his twenty-two-inch penis, steadily holding his video camera with the other.

Guacamole wasted no time getting to work. Taking a butter knife out of Da Seevir's pack, he sliced and diced until he had created an orifice in the gorilla for his fucking pleasure.

Sticking his sixteen-inch leathery monkey penis into the slot, he humped the still-warm corpse as the creature's blood and shit lubricated his cock. Leaning his face forward, he shared a passionate one-sided French kiss with the strange creature.

Growing bored of this routine as he approached an earth-shattering orgasm, Guacamole used his frog-like tongue to rip out one of Harambe's eyes. Moving forward, he stuck his penis in the hole and began to fuck the empty socket rapidly as the body convulsed, a shred of life still present within it.

At last! Guacamole came, thick monkey semen coating the interior of Harambe's head and the exterior of its brain.

Taking a double-barrel pump action shotgun out of his pack, Da Seevir whistled to the monkey to pull out and emptied round after round after round into the nearly-dead creature until it was fully dead, and then some.

Tossing the gun aside, he activated the Zapishizer and Guacamole suffered once more.

"You idiot monkey! Who knows what kind of STDs that thing could have? You should have used these!" he bellowed furiously, removing a 100-pack of condoms from his pack and tossing them into the sand.

As his frustrations grew, so did his lust, and the fat man came at last, his cock snot pouring into the desert sand for a good forty-five seconds.

"Lick it up, monkey!" he demanded rudely.

The monkey obeyed his captor and friend without question, knowing continued obedience might one day get him a banana. With his tongue, he licked up and swallowed every last drop of Da Seevir's tasty oozing semen, coughing as he ingested a pound of desert sand and rocks along with it.

"Now, come on! We're moving!" Da Seevir screamed.

A few hours later, as their run through the hot desert sand continued, Guacamole vociferated, "Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (I get the impression that if there was a troll so famous they made the news and provoked a war, but was also low-key enough to have their own Tumblr page, and they were anonymously asked about its level of skankiness, they would publicly post that the death of that gorilla we just mercilessly slaughtered in cold blood is something we should shut the fuck up about, just to bug people and for funzies. Which is why we killed him, come to think of it.)"

Da Seevir stopped, a puzzled look on his face. He thought for a brief moment before responding. "That is an extremely oddly specific thing to say, monkey. And even more oddly and specifically, no matter how ridiculous the path to that conclusion was, I can't find a single flaw in your reasoning. For once." The fat man chuckled as he resumed his run. "Good one! Though that ugly-ass gorilla was worth EXP too, so it was worth it anyway. Nwehehehehehehehehe!"

And so they went on.

On the third day of their journey across the endless desert, Da Seevir and Guacamole came across a sign in the shape of a red dodecahedron, the message upon it written in yellow powdery chalk. The smell reminded them of something. Was it red herring, perhaps?

Da Seevir recounted his earliest memories. He had grown up without parents with six abusive siblings in an abandoned chain of islands in the middle of the sea.

"Hi," his first sibling said one day.

"Hello," his second sibling said.

"Ahoy!" his third sibling said.

"Giggle!" his fourth sibling said.

Shaking his head to clear it of the fond but completely irrelevant memories that were recounted to no purpose (or was there one? audible wink), Da Seevir read the sign.

South Park – 30 Miles
Watch out for impersonators, perverts and monster clowns!

"After this last trek of desert, we need to scale those mountains, monkey, and then it's just a matter of travelling down the road to South Park. But we have to be careful, captain, we cannot keep going fast on those icy roads. Understand?" Da Seevir expelled loudly, followed by a belch that smelled worse than a septic tank as he opened his eyes.

As they continued travelling, they soon came across a wandering Orc heading in the opposite direction. The filthy, green-brown-skinned humanoid with demonic red eyes was wearing blood-red lace with a vampiric quality to it, combat boots, pink fishnets and Holden's red hunting cap, thoroughly devoid of hidden symbolism. All in all, a poor imitation; he forgot her distinctive hair, after all.

"Hullo there, Orc! Nwehehehe! What brings you here?"

"I was sent here by Saruman, chief of the Order of the Istari of Eru Ilúvatar, who's not a friend of Manwë of the Greatly Lazy Deus Ex Machina Eagles, to find Gandalf. There's a big event going on in South Park and we think he's still loafing around in Bangkok."

"Saruman, Gandalf, Dumblehore, Tom Cruise and Father Maxi are all members of the Super Adventure Club and they're going to have a great deal of fun overseas." The humanoid creature shrugged. "Dunno what that means."

"Well, since you were kind enough to tell me that, why not take a rest here and relax? My monkey friend here can give you a lot of pleasure."

"Can he really?" the Orc cried out with joy, nearly coming at the mere thought of having his twenty-four-inch cock sucked dry by Guacamole.

Stripping out of his fishnets, he began to relentlessly thrust his monstrously large dick, pounding against the monkey's larynx with all his might.

The monkey grimaced. The organ smelled and tasted like rotten human flesh mixed with sour milk curds, but he would have to endure it to please his lover and maybe get a banana.

"Guacamole!" the Orc came, cock snot exploding everywhere in the vicinity, but most of it making its way down his partner's esophagus.

"Ah, that felt good," the Orc laughed audibly.

"WOO-WOO! THERE SEEMS TO BE A PROBLEM HERE, GENTLEMEN!"

A voice was heard. It was...PC PRINCIPAL!

Dressed in an unfashionable black-and-blue jogging suit, the ugly blond-haired man displayed his repulsively ugly mug of a face, which wore dark sunglasses that expressed his arrogance and a perpetual sneer.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE, DUDE?" he yelled, seething and furious.

"A consensual homosexual relationship between a member of Orcus Genius Eugenius and a member of Cercopithecidae," the Orc responded calmly.

"You got consent forms for that, bro?" The ugly, arrogant man sneered repulsively as he spat the demeaning question at the comparatively innocent creature.

"Of course. Here you are!" The Orc gave the consent forms to his ugly, unwelcome visitor, who sneered as he brought his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose to inspect them. The forms had been signed before the consensual sex began, using a dull pen as a writing implement and the blood from Guacamole's still-bleeding mouth as its ink.

"This looks in order, bro," PC Principal replied, his seething contempt replaced with slightly less seething contempt. "Was there any cunnilingus, bro? There's a separate consent form, bro," he continued.

"We're gay," the Orc replied, clearly despising the viciously evil man in front of him.

"EXCUSE ME?!" the repulsive man screamed barbarically.

"Are you implying that just because you're gay, you can't perform cunnilingus? WATCH YOUR FUCKING MICROAGGRESSIONS! Being gay does not mean you couldn't have performed cunnilingus with a third partner, like that perfectly healthy and not in any way fat transgender dude next to you!

"EXCUSE ME?!" Da Seevir screamed barbarically. "I may be grossly unattractive and unhealthily overweight, almost definitely due to overeating combined with lack of exercise, but I am not transgender, unlike my six crossdressing hermaphrodite siblings who have 'surrendered all gender differences' for the sake of the purity of their..."abilities". And how did you even know all that, anyway? That last part isn't even canon!"

"Are you fucking stupid, bro, dude!? OBVIOUSLY it's 'cause our author gave us all access to information that the reader won't have, unless they have an extremely good memory, extensive knowledge of various stories as well as the main sources, and get all the references and shout-outs completely, which is highly unlikely, bro. The more complicated ones are definitely a Guide Dang It, and some of them are fucking absurd, I'd be astounded if some PC bro got all of them!"

"Right..." Everyone slowly said in imitation of Dr. Evil, somehow satisfied by this answer.

"Okay, this looks in order, bro. Peace; dude, bro, dude!" And with that, PC Principal jogged away into the distance.

"What a piece of scum!" Da Seevir shouted.

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah!" Guacamole nodded in fierce agreement.

"He's a nasty piece of work. We're all ruthless criminals and really evil here, but at least we have standards. He has none." The Orc wrapped up the conversation. "Well, thanks for the pleasure, Da Seevir!" he yelled over his shoulder as he ran off to find Gandalf. Unbeknownst to him, his quest would prove useless, because Gandalf was already in South Park.

He would die, parched and starving, his decomposing body not even considered tasty enough for scavengers and microbes to consume, two weeks from now. But that's a story for another day, lest you forget about PC Principal's vices.

"Well, Guacamole," Da Seevir began, taking a large map and a meter stick out of his pack as he casually let out another nasally "Nwehehehe!" laugh. "South Park is in sight. We have finished ascending the mountain. Once we get through this chain of icy roads, the plan begins."

The monkey stared at Da Seevir curiously.

"You see, monkey, if there's one thing Lt. Mary Sue is known for, it's being the best at whatever she chooses to do. We're going to exploit this to our advantage. By combining your bloodlust and my cruelty, we'll force the citizens of South Park into a sadistic, unfair competition of some kind, preferably a death match. This'll make her reveal herself to save the day like those big damn heroes always do."

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah!" The monkey squealed, as if saying "continue".

"Remember, the goal is to start the Phasing Ritual by whatever means necessary, which given South Park's population, necessitates...69 people, excluding the victim. The other thing we know, if that episode at Hogwarts is any indicator; she loves the shit. We'll offer it as an alternative when she shows up to save the day."

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (But what if she defeats you?)" Guacamole replied.

"Defeats me? Ha, preposterous! You'll see," he winked sexily as he removed a high-range sniper rifle, twenty cartridges of ammunition and a laser blaster from his pack. "I'll get her to cooperate."

Ten minutes later, the dynamic duo descended into the streets of South Park.

---

Three years later...

Despite Da Seevir's brilliant, ingenious plan, he was not able to carry it out. He was interrupted by others. They were...EMOS!

Over the past three years, the Goths, protectors of the universe, and the Emos, its mortal enemy and team of destroyers, had grown significantly in power and multiplied in numbers. They had concentrated their forces. A great war for the control of the universe had begun, creatures of all varieties picking one side or the other: there was no such thing as "neutral".

In this world, it was KILL OR BE KILLED, and there wasn't enough room for both Goths and Emos and Preps.

One day, as Theo was out promoting feminism and the environment at the United Nations Headquarters, Stan and Kyle stood at the bus stop, bored and not finding any real conversation topics without the constant company of Theo. Their parents had been raped and tortured to death, so, having no families; their lives were dull. Suddenly, they heard an extremely loud and painful-sounding yell coming from downtown.

"Wanna investigate it, dude?" Kyle asked, extremely bored.

"Sure, why not?" Stan answered with indifferent apathy. Though his Asperger's had been cured after his night under the school with the love of his life, without her, life was bland.

A few minutes later, they found themselves in front of City Wok, where most of the town was gathered. Laughter filled their ears as they approached to find PC Principal, clad in nothing but his birthday suit, had stumbled into a bear trap in the middle of the street. He was screaming for assistance, but in an obnoxiously rude way.

Seeing the extremely hilarious sight in front of them, Stan and Kyle burst into tears, laughing uncontrollably. Wouldn't you? That prick deserves it...

"...That prick deserves his comeuppance!" Eric snorted repeatedly as he approached them.

"Damn right!" Kenny added as he arrived on the scene, howling like a hyena.

An impromptu carnival was breaking out around them, the citizens of South Park playing "Pelt the Pussy Crusher" with rotting tomatoes. The Pitchfork 'n' Torch Store, a nationwide franchise started by Theo, was conveniently having a sale today, and many people were heading there to get better ammunition.

The mayor and her aides were debating whether it was possible to encase the man in a ball and play "Crush the Pussy Basketball!" as an impromptu holiday; meanwhile, Lu Kim had noticed the commotion and decided it was time for a sale.

"Come and get your city food! City burgers! City fries! City Thai food! Watch the spectacle!" he said, in a mostly educated tongue. Theo had taught him how to speak properly and get rid of his inner yellow, but he still loved the nostalgic pronunciation of "city". It reminded him of the good old days.

"How city of me," I thought.

"Damn right!" Kenny added as he arrived on the scene, howling like a hyena.

The "Chinaman" thought for a moment, scratched his beard in confusion, then jumped off a cliff.

Or at least he tried to. Theo had safeguarded the edge of the cliff with a ballistic titanium trampoline, preventing the unfortunate deaths of not-brown non-Emos.

At the end of the day, the commotion ironically died down, but PC Principal was not free. As the days passed and he remained stuck in the bear trap, the citizens of South Park did not hesitate to spit on and curse at him as he was repeatedly run over by large trucks. It was the will of Aristotle.

But there was another reason why the fun stopped, too.

At the height of the circus, the people of South Park and their mayor heard a familiar wailing cry from across town, one that filled their hearts with sorrow and told a tale of years of grueling agony. It was the call of a damsel in distress.

The crowd, ironically, ran to City Hall, where a depressed drop-dead gorgeous sixteen-year-old vampiric young Goth woman stood waiting, a razor shaking in her clammy hand, her beautifully golden moonstone ring shining under the full moon and starry night. She was wearing black eyeliner which had spilled along with her mascara, forming a bloody river on the theater stage as she cried egregiously, her orbs glowing a brilliant icy blue. Her beautiful lips were covered in expensive emerald green lipstick.

A necklace of the purest diamonds encircled her preciously soft neck, which was adorned with gems. She wore a t-shirt depicting Gerard Way (he's a hottie) beneath her shimmering sapphire dress, which seemed as if it'd catch fire if she only twirled. Her pearl earrings were the only unchanged aspect of her personality.

It was...

...THEO!

"Theo, what happened?! What are you doing?" Trent Boyette cried and thrusted as he burst into tears.

Eric Cartman screamed as Theo began to speak, her voice weak and speaking of a concealed illness she had borne for a long time.

"My friends..." she began weakly, as PC Principal's ignored screams carried on.

"My life in this world...all my accomplishments...they were all for nothing. For you see, as I left the U.N. building today, exhausted after pleading with those stubborn brown people, a fat man spit at me and told me I WAS WORTHLESS!" she burst into tears.

A hiss went through the crowd at the thought of this fat man.

"Please, Theo! We can help! Tell us what happened!"

"Okay," she spoke softly. "Before I slit my wrists and pass into the way of the true Goth, I will tell you. It all began when..."

---

I walked out of the United Nations Headquarters. It was such grueling work. "Why couldn't that fucking brown bastard shut down his fucking oil program!? He's hurting the fucking whales!" I thought, allowing myself the one curse after my exhausting day. God, foreigners were stupid! "Akh ban allar bin gladden," they spoke such nonsense endlessly.

I was wearing a beautiful ruby red dress that shone in the sun, my yellow lipstick beaming outwards as I bore my kawaii diamond necklace and my crystal onyx tiara. I was also wearing my lucky pearl earrings as well as my green high heels that complemented my glowing emerald hair. My inquisitive baby blue orbs completed my beautiful appearance.

The sun had begun to set, the purple and pink lights of the New York sky clinging to the earth like limpid tears and reflecting my beautiful youth and youthful beauty for all to see. Sighing and bored, I walked into one of the jewelry stores on Eight Hundred and First Street (geddit?).

"Oh. My. God!" the attendant screamed. "You are gorgeous! Take this moonstone ring, young lady. It's my poor husband's last possession, the only one remaining after he was sent to the war to fight commies after our honeymoon. We should have had such long years of happiness together..." she looked down mournfully.

"Aw, turn that smile upside down!" I replied.

"You're right!" she said eagerly. "And here are our store brand finest gothic clothes. I hope you'll enjoy them."

"Omigosh, how did you know?" I exclaimed.

"You just have the look of a true Goth in you. This'll be our little secret," she said.

"Thanks for the clothes," I began, "but I just couldn't take away such a sentimental gift from you."

"It's just a trifle. You need it more than I do to keep up that appearance, young lady." She said, winking mischievously.

"Then my reward...is clothes!" I shrieked happily and danced a happy jig, complete with high kicks. Golly, gee! There's no such thing as too much clothes, and it's my great joy in life to describe them in first person point-of-view at tremendous length whenever I come around to putting them on, heh heh, I said come!

We shared a passionate French kiss as I accepted her clothes, plus that bee-u-tiful ring, whose moonstone was thankfully not imbued with an evil witch's warty curse. This time, anyway. Walking out the door, I spotted a Durr T. Cinema across the street.

The Disney Tragedy by Gerard Way was playing. I gasped. It was my favorite movie! How lucky for me! "Sounds delightfully lovely and ladylike," I thought. I walked across the street and into the movie theater.

But it was there that evil dwelt. I ran through the lobby gothically and went to the concession stand.

"What would you like, dearie?" the Concession Stand Lady asked sweetly.

"Popcorn and soda."

"What kind of popcorn and soda, sweetie?" she replied.

"Oh, heck, I did a lot of work today." I surveyed my seventy-five-pound frame. "If I do just as good a job tomorrow I'll still be able to lose that weight," I thought. "Get me one of everything."

My hands full with a Barq's Root Beer, a Coca-Cola Classic, a Coke Zero, a Diet Coke, a Fresca, a Fruitopia Orange Groove, a Fruitopia Strawberry Passion Awareness, a Minute Maid Fresh Mix, a Minute Maid Lemonade, a Minute Maid Light Lemonade, a Minute Maid Orange Soda, a Nestea Diet Lemon, a Nestea Sweetened Lemon Tea Postmix, a Powerade Berry Blitz, a Sprite, a Sprite Zero, an Unbranded Orange, a Blue Raspberry Postmix, a Barq's Red Cream Soda Postmix, an order of Round Nacho Chips, an order of Nacho Sliced Jalapeno Peppers, an order of Jalapeno Cheese Sauce, an order of Regular Chunky Salsa, a Wiener, an order of Cotton Candy, and finally a small, a medium, a large, and an extra-large bag of popcorn, each topped with a pound of Becel, a pound of Clarified Lactantia Butter, a pound of Popcorn Seed, a pound of Vegetol, a pound of Vegetol Oil, and a pound of seasoning, I went to the theater. Wisely, I decided to forego the chocolates and candies as I tapped my erogenous navel to check my waist size ironically.

I reached the theater and took my seat. "Damn, how long before this shit starts?" On my left was...a prideful-looking boy with messy jet-black hair and circular glasses fondly holding a piece of wood as he hogged the armrest. On my right was...another boy with ugly red hair who looked like the King of Freckles took a shit on his face, and beyond that was a blonde girl who looked like her blood was dirty, despite her being White. I shuddered in disgust.

A few dull minutes later, the movie finally began! Thankfully, there were no previews. How kawaii of them! I settled into my seat to enjoy the movie.

My favorite movie opened with Gerard Way (my favorite actor; if you don't know who he is, get the fuck out of here!) presenting the extensive backstory in anime form, and a chocolatey voice-over was about to complete the perfect ambiance.

"Ahem," his voice sounded from the speakers. "I present to you The Disney Tragedy, written by me and presented by everyone's favorite freckled chocolate savior, Morgan Freeman!"

The familiar voice that was to the ears what sugary butter was to the mouth started speaking.

"Chapter One."

"'Don't stop blowing,' she said, 'or I'll fall asleep.' At least, Bambi wanted to think of her as a she, but the lesbian hooker she had hired off the street in the ghetto was unmistakably an extremely obese transvestite in many ways. Such as still having a HUGE dick pumped up to be the size of a firehose. Bambi still remembered how painful it was to please as she glanced up at the angry impatient prostitute who called herself 'Bubba'."

"After the two-hour blowjob and the three-hour session of violent sex Bambi delivered yet another baby, which she gently placed in the nearby dumpster for her pet rats to eat. She was very hungry and swallowing semen just wasn't enough."

"So she took out a machine gun and brutally slaughtered forty-seven innocent civilians like cows in the hopes of finding some delicious flabby body parts to cannibalize for lunch. But it instead turned into a massive shootout between cops, SWAT teams, terrorists and cannibal cultists who were also looking for a bite to eat as they eyed Bambi greedily."

"Frustrated Bambi lost her four-star wanted level by hijacking a bus full of Mexicans and black guys crashing it into the shootout as she ran down to the nearest BLACK ANGUS steakhouse where she had the feast of her life."

"After this delicious brown feast, Bambi went to work, where she masturbated horses for eight hours, making sure to save a lot of horse semen for her meal toppings as she anally raped them with Bubba's bloody chopped off firehose dick. After having sex with her boss and her twenty-five coworkers at the same time Bambi returned to her ghetto dumpster home, where she lay on the smelly alleyway floor next to the skeleton of her latest baby with her rabid pet rats, and found true meaning in her life...friendship."

There was a pause in the narrative. Tears of joy filled my eyes as I heard of the elegant, ladylike tale of the heroic heroine. As I settled into my seat, thoroughly enjoying the movie, I had to let out some ass gas, but I did so in a ladylike manner, of course.

Freckle Face tapped my shoulder. "WHAT THE FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" I screamed. "HE TOUCHED ME! HE'S A FUCKING PERV WHO BELONGS IN ALCATRAZ!" The whole theater stood up and frowned in a synchronized synecdoche.

Freckle Face, Mop Head and Shit Blood quickly stood up.

"Their expressions changed," I thought. They must be planning to do battle! Whipping out my katana, in one swift motion I stabbed it through Freckle Face's heart. Before the others could react, I did a front flip over his collapsing corpse and faced off against Shit Blood. Shit Blood pulled out her special stick and handled it carefully, but with one stroke I removed it from her hand and with the second I cut it completely in half as I delivered a lethal kick to her rib cage. The force of the kick shattered her skull as she collapsed.

With a graceful pirouette motion, I did a backflip over Freckle Face and challenged Mop Head. "En guarde!" I called proudly. He gave me a malicious sneer of green-eyed jealousy before pointing his very special stick at the projector. With great effort and a mid-air pumping motion, he shot silver stuff at it, making it crash in a spectacular explosion.

In response, I stabbed him in the heart and sheathed my katana, not a drop of blood on it or me. He died.

You earned 300 EXP and 1,000 GOLD.
Your LOVE increased.

"Three cheers for Theo!" The theater echoed for many a minute. I had saved their lives, but unfortunately not the movie, I reflected in agony. Oh well! The janitor and the theater owner looked a little pissed, but they were probably Emos and pedophiles, so fuck them!

As I walked onto the street, a fat man in a weird outfit bumped my shoulder. "Fat slut," he sneered and spit out his gum, it landing in a manhole, the gesture devastating my heart.

---

"And that gesture is why I, Theodora the Fourth Dionysius Olympus Luna Sakura Glitter Cartwoman, must heroically sacrifice myself for the sake of my town. I WAS UNAPPRECIATED!" she screamed as she concluded her tale.

The townspeople of South Park and their mayor had listened to her tale of woe, invoking fierce loyalty in themselves as they heard of the thuggish man's unforgivable actions. He must be worked over with a sledgehammer, tossed around by an angry mob, shot and stabbed repeatedly, set on fire, and used as a getaway piggy-back ride in an incredibly daring daylight robbery!

"But Theo!" they called. "You have so much more to contribute to this world! Please don't slit your wrists in a holy Satanist and gothic way!" they all prayed loudly.

"Sorry, you guys! I love you all, but for the common good, it must be done!" she cried.

"..."

"Unless."

"What?" they shouted eagerly.

"Unless Stan, Kyle, Butters and one very special other prove to me just how much I matter to them...in front of the whole town!" she proclaimed happily.

"Me?" Kenny shed tears of joy.

"Not so fast, pipsqueak, I'd rather fuck my own father than you." The town laughed at him meanly. Her crush, meanwhile, was beaming at her, dressed in his adorable white sailor suit. He'd even put on a cute red bow tie and a hot pink hair ribbon to impress her. She released a pleasured moan in his direction before turning to finish her speech.

"Nah, I was thinking a person I've loved my whole life, who I've spent a ton of time interacting with, who's made me smile, laugh and play!"

Eric Cartman looked up at her, frowning.

"It was..." She paused for dramatic effect.

"PROFESSOR SNAKE!" she cried loudly.

The town gasped.

"Oh, wait, sorry, my memory's been a little screwy, recently. Ahem. It was..."

Eric looked into her icy blue tear-like eyes with a searching glare. The town awaited her answer with baited breath. Several long minutes passed.

"It was..."

"DUMBLYDORK!"

The town gasped even louder.

"Uh, Theo, Dumbelldoor is with the Super Adventure Club in some southeastern Asian shithole right now," Mayor McDaniels informed her.

"Oh. In that case..."

"And so are Gandalf and Father Maxi, too."

"Dammit! And what happened to John Lennon?"

"Time-Torners." Stan shrugged.

"Right. Well then..."

She searched the crowd for someone with potential. Her eyes lingered on her brother for a moment. She paused to stop and wave at him. He waved back anxiously, his petrifying gaze penetrating her soul. Her eyes fell on Kenny, whose gaze was fixated upon her.

"Is my father here?" she asked.

"Nah, the Denver Broncos were all tortured to death through electrocution and rectal food injection a few days ago." Kyle said happily. "Nobody knows who did it."

"Fine! Kenny it is!"

"YIPPEE!" he yelled as he jumped on her. "Kawaii!"

Atop the darkened rooftops of Shi Tpa Town, two shadowy figures crouched in the darkness as they observed the distant scene. The larger one had assembled a tripod camera on the roof using the materials from his pack, while the other tuned in to the audio bugs he had planted near City Hall. An antenna presently removed from the pack transmitted all the gathered information to their secret boss. The scent of "city" Chinese food came from below them.

"What I wouldn't give for her powers," Da Seevir said longingly. "She's got the whole town under her fucking finger. Mary fucking Sue, man. She gets away with murder."

Guacamole looked at him, causing him to slowly smile a Cheshire cat grin. "And soon, so will we," he laughed diabolically. "Everything is going according to plan."

His monkey friend sighed at the cliché and procured a video camera from the pack. He would need fresh fapping material in the next few days.

The townspeople made a big circle and many took out their cell phones and video cameras. Channel 9 News was there too, ironically, with a helicopter.

Theo, surprisingly strong for her age, managed to send the leaping Kenny sprawling back into the snow from whence he came. Literally. He creamed the front of his parka as he landed. Jumping down from her perch, Theo licked up every last drop of Kenny's luscious orgasm. She then removed his pants and the other three took off all their clothes as well.

I took off...my bra! The audience gasped in shock and awe as I revealed my petite seventy-five-pound 6'2'' form. "I'm thin enough to be anorexic," I thought, "but I'm perfectly healthy. Just look at my sex-pack and my huge boobs!"

She then gasped, as Kyle and Stan had come up behind her, Stan fondling her erogenous navels and Kyle sticking his boy thingy in hers, grinding intensely into her.

As Kyle started to pleasure her other end with his eighteen-inch doohickey, Stan began to tease her other end with his soft tongue, evidently with experience in laving.

Turning in front of her, she began to French kiss at extreme intensity with Butters, her dear gothic crush. On a whim, she broke her breathless lip lock with her sixteen-year-old friend and bit deeply into his neck, giving him a hickey. The crowd gasped and clapped.

Knowing that he was now cursed to be a vampire forever and thus permanently bonded with Theo, Butters shouted with excitement. "Hapa noa chi chi!" he cried, lapsing for the moment into his native tongue. He came; one, two, three times as they continued French kissing passionately, blood pouring from the boy's neck. Theo got an eructation and had to wait and let it out. She knew Butters had always wanted to be a vampire anyway; now he had his wish!

Meanwhile, Kenny approached from her front combat flank and stuck his twenty-seven-inch doohickey (Satan had blessed him with above average length) into her you-know-what in and out repeatedly. He shouted as he and her came suddenly, cum shooting deep into the reaches of her you-know-what as it shot out of hers into his simultaneously. She felt great.

Suddenly, Kyle came on her back, Stan ducking under her dress and licking up what he could salvage. At the pressure of Stan's tongue she felt electrified by the outburst of gothic and came.

"All right, that's enough messing around!" She cried out. The crowd gasped. She had ripped off all her clothes in one fluid motion, now nude in the snow for the four boys to savor. But she would not let them.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She called, wagging her finger. "First you pleasure me," she reminded the naughty boys. Sticking a fist up one end and her ring finger up her you-know-what, she began to pleasure herself intensely as she ordered the four boys to assume their positions.

Stan was fucking Butters doggy-style while Kenny mounted Kyle in the missionary position as they lay on their sides. They were so hot. Theo watched and pleasured herself as she tortured the four kawaii boys with the power of abstinence.

Suddenly, they were all coming! She sprayed the snow around her as Kyle and Butters shot their seed into the other's mouth while Stan and Kenny anally fucked them. Repeatedly.

After she came again, she whistled. "I will give you the pleasure of ME," she announced. She was answered only by shouts of joy.

"Now, who wants to stick their thingy in mine first?" she asked unexpectedly.

The four boys began to look at each other angrily. Stan threw Kyle to the ground as he ran for Theo, but tripped over Kenny, who had stuck a leg in his path before being tackled to the ground by Butters.

"Aw, kawaii! You're all so protective of me," she smiled genuinely. "Okay, how's this?" She whispered a message in the ears of each of her four horny mates.

As they prepared for another round, a black limo pulled up.

"I hope I'm not late!" a handsome teenager's voice called. It was...GERARD WAY!

"OMIGOSH, it's Gerard Way! I have you on my t-shirt! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pleasure you too, Theo!"

"No Way!"

"Yes Way!" Gerard, his obsidian hair blowing graciously in the sweet winter wind, promptly exposed his thirty-inch penis, the largest she'd ever seen and lied down in the snow so she wouldn't have to spoil her plans. And yes, the carpet matched the drapes. Carefully lying down and lowering herself onto him until as much as she could take of the length was inside her, she motioned to the other four, who stacked on top of each other, above her remaining you-know-what. Butters got there first and stuck his thingy in her you-know-what.

Stan, arriving second, sunk his twenty-one-inch penis balls deep into Butters as they all began to bounce up and down in sync with Theo's powerful motions. Kyle stuck his probe into Stan and Kenny completed the tower.

As the sexual intercourse continued, moans began to be heard by those in the crowd. The stack was reaching its ultimate peak climax!

Suddenly, a whole bunch of names were heard at the same time!

"Theo!"
"Gerard!"
"Theo!"
"Butters!"
"Stan!"
"Kyle!"

At that moment, the crowd went silent and then cheered. A waterfall of cum had enveloped them all, pouring into every orifice; into mouths, asses, and Theo's you-know-whats.

A reporter came up to the party as soon as they had recovered enough to stand.

"It feels great," Theo was saying. "It's nice to know that South Park appreciates me so much. But that said..." Anxiety rose within the crowd.

Theo burst into tears. "I'm sorry! I still can't do it! Peeling off her arms, she revealed she had been wearing two layers of skin! The layer underneath was chock full of slitting! Holy cow! Both of her wrists had been cut right open and puddles of blood fell to the ground as she began to feel intensely faint. Crying, covered in the semen of five men and with Butters feeding her blood in an attempt to revive her, she died a heroic death to protect the citizens of South Park from those damn vicious Emos, impaled upon her own katana.

---

Puddles of semen were all over the roof.

"That intensely erotic session has greatly increased her strength," Da Seevir observed with his pornographer's lens, chewing thoughtfully on a banana. "Your thoughts, Guacamole?"

Guacamole, who had finally been given an unspoiled banana of his own, was somewhat distracted. It took him some time to answer, his face pensive as he took a bite, though it was a bit more difficult without his teeth.

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (Isn't she dead, though? She somehow just fell on her own katana while it was sheathed and sturdily attached to her back. Achievements in Ignorance, eh?)"

"No kidding," Da Seevir laughed. "But no," he frowned. "You cannot destroy a creature such as Lieutenant Mary Sue like that, not that we'd want to, of course. Her mortal form has surely perished, and without it she is crippled. But she'll come back soon. It's only at least the third time she's pulled this heroic sacrifice bullshit," he spat disgustedly. "Doing it in an impossibly cool way isn't too much of a stretch for her at this point."

Guacamole nodded silently as he digested this new information. The cumshot he'd just sucked in from his dear friend was giving him heartburn, making it hard to concentrate. He hoped that the banana, which is, by the way, a natural antacid, would cure his problem in short order.

He turned and winked. "Knowing is growing!" he thought.

Turning back to Da Seevir, he replied, "Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (So what's the next step in our Plan B? I hope we won't get inexplicably sabotaged by those damn Emos again.)"

Da Seevir was taking his time to reply as well, when he suddenly got a brilliant idea!

"Eureka!" he cried. "All right, monkey, here's the plan. Nwehehehehehe! We're going to stick as close to Plan A as possible. First, we need to establish with one-hundred-percent certainty that this is the real Mary Sue, otherwise our boss could get a little angry."

Guacamole nodded fearfully.

"I know a contact in town who will get us all the information we could want on just about anyone. Though..." he paused with a look of annoyance.

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (What?)" he interrogated.

"He'll probably want us to fuck him – and his girlfriend too. She's a serial killer," he concluded miserably. "But she probably won't harm us. There'll be a funeral very shortly, sometime before Mary crawls back up from the depths of hell where she belongs. When both of those days come, we'll be ready. Nwehehehehehehehehehehe!"

---

Knock knock knock.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH, CAITLYN!" Herbert Garrison screamed as he had an earth-shattering erection. And then an orgasm, his cock snot plunging deep into his running mate's vagina. The tiny fish-like sperm in his baby gravy wouldn't find their mate either, however. Ms. Jenner was already pregnant.

Afterwards, they began to sixty-nine, and it was so beautiful that Trump started crying.

I forget why he was watching...they just had that kind of relationship, you know?

"Smiley...face!" said Eric's voice, seemingly from nowhere. Well, either that or he, along with Jimbo, Ned, and half the neighborhood, were eagerly watching the spectacle with binoculars, concealed in the bushes outside. Take your pick.

Emerging from the luscious confines of Herbert's delicious bush, Caitlyn suddenly vocalized what had happened fifteen minutes ago.

"Garrison, buckaroo, I think somebody's at the door."

"Oh, fuck yeah. Is this the high-class escort I ordered?" He quickly put his pink panties back on as he climbed out of his bed and walked to the door.

As he walked down the hall, he eyed a framed photo of the town's savior, Theo. She was wearing a-

SMAAAASH!

"Killed the main Suefluence Vector." A mysterious dark figure reported to his radio. Quickly realizing his danger, the man leaped out of the window he had entered from and disappeared just as Garrison was coming to.

"Garrison, honey? You all right?"

He rubbed his head angrily as he flipped on the light. There was no sign of the shadow that had knocked him down. The pieces of Theo's photo frame lay on the ground. The picture itself could not be recognized in the wreckage.

"The NERVE of this guy-" he began to scream, but caught himself. Why was he angry? Come to think of it, who was he angry AT? Puzzled, he stared at the ground as Caitlyn entered the room, a smug grin on her face.

"Everything okay here?" she licked her lips.

"Just fine, Caitlyn. I think I hit the shelf and busted some old photo frame. No biggie." He scratched his head. "Well, someone's at the door, right?"

"Okay, buckaroo. Let's go answer." she answered erotically.

---

Reality shudders, and so does Da Seevir.

"WHAT just happened? Guacamole, did you feel that?"

The monkey had a strange expression on his face. "Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (I think I know where the problem is...didn't it come from inside?)"

Suddenly, the door was yanked open.

"Took ya long enough, ya fucking pervert." the fat man quipped.

"What the fuck? You're not C'lass-i! Get out of here!"

"Wait, Garrison! Don't you recognize me?" Herbert glared at the strange man in front of him before his gaze softened. "Sorry, Da Seevir. Didn't recognize you. Let me guess, you need more information?"

The two had met a month earlier in a high-class "hotel" (whorehouse) on the Mediterranean, where Caitlyn had brought him for their first date.

"Yeah, that'd be about right." Da Seevir responded, his expression smooth.

"All right, I won't promise ya anything, but come on in." The man yielded, thrusting into his house as the door slammed.

"Who is it, buckaroo?"

"It's our friend Da Seevir, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that guy. He was the threesome, dear."

"CAITLYN!"

"Don't worry, I still don't like him more than you. Mostly."

He sighed. "Who do you want information on, Da Seevir?"

Da Seevir pulled a portrait out of his pack. It depicted a gorgeous young woman.

"Who in bloody Sam Hill is that supposed to be?"

Da Seevir frowned. "You don't recognize her?"

"Never seen her in my life, Da Seevir, and you know I keep a mental database on anyone I could fuck to death."

It was then that Guacamole noticed something. "Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (What's that?)"

Da Seevir gazed at the busted photo frame. He'd seen an intact one in every house he'd visited, and they all looked identical. "Any idea who that's of?" he pointed.

"No clue, to be honest. That broke just before you entered, and my memory's extremely fuzzy about that."

The mustached man's eyes widened. "So that's what just happened...she's managed to spread her influence into objects...they conduct her power..."

"What?"

"That photo was of someone named Theodora IV Dionysius Olympus Luna Sakura Glitter Cartwoman, who also goes under the names Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, Ebony Dark'ness Dementia TARA Way, Enoby, Ebory, Enony, Evony (geddit?), Ibony, Enobby, Egogy, Eboby, TaEbory, Tata, Tara, and Lieutenant Mary Sue. She just died a few hours ago and the whole town mourned her."

"These objects conduct her influence and make her more powerful. We must destroy them all." Da Seevir finished.

PC Principal's ugly screams echoed in the background. A bear had ripped out the thin ligaments in that vulnerable part at the back of people's feet, and blood gushed out of him like a river. He was then stabbed repeatedly with tiny syringes that injected a substance to increase nerve sensitivity, amplifying the pain he felt. He then had his fingernails forcibly pulled out of his flesh, one by one, by the laughing crowd. Shortly after, he died of crowd-inflicted HIV, the one positive quality he had; the rats were too disgusted to feast on his corpse Ratatouille-style. They instead carried him to an incinerator. They thought eagerly of what Satan would do to him in hell.

But PC Principal was so DETERMINED to do evil, he LOADed his SAVE file and endured the torture repeatedly until he found an outcome that left him alive, if intensely mangled. These were the screams of arrogant agony they heard now.

"Serves him right." They sneered.

And so they broke into Scott Malkinson's house and destroyed his kitten, which had been taught how to read and write by that monster. Afterwards, Guacamole did it with the corpse while they videotaped it, chewing on some sun-dried beef jerky. Brought to you by Jack Link's: feed your wild side!

Then, they broke into Stan's house, where they fucked Randy to death for going along with her. They'd rape and kill Stan himself later.

Then, they broke into Kyle's house, but were chased off by knife-wielding Sarah Jessica Parker as she intensely anally fucked Sheila. They therefore concluded nothing of value could be there.

(And when Sheila had pulled out her garlic press, they had run for the hills)

They considered breaking into Wendy's house, but decided it wasn't worth it. The town slut would probably have resented Theo for taking away her business, they reasoned.

Dawn was but an hour away, the earliest light of the sun flickering in the sky. It was then that Da Seevir realized something.

"Oh. She'll be back in like a day or two after she resurrects, so this whole endeavor was pretty much pointless."

"God dammit Da Seevir, you always do this!"

"Well, guess you'll have to stay on your guard. Enjoy the EXecution Points."

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (Do we still have to fuck them?)" Guacamole demanded of his lover.

"Monkey, it's common courtesy! Do you even WANT a banana?" Da Seevir snapped.

---

The van was smoothly and silently driving through South Park, stopping only to run over PC Principal as the crowd savagely attacked him once more. It was headed for the South Park Cemetery, four horny dogs aboard.

Bruce Jenner swung his cock snot in an Arc-de-Triomphe formation to amuse himself as he wrote yet another blog entry on his laptop while driving. He hiccupped. That vodka went down the wrong pipe. He pondered this as his pot cigarette laced with psilocybin, crack cocaine and crystal meth dropped through the window, crunching next to his flat tire as he ran over and shot some normal straight people with an AK-47 assault rifle. The CHECK ENGINE light was ablaze, smoke clouding the windshield as glasses of ordinary water laced with a few strings of LSD bumped and splashed all over the car.

Garrison was playing and cheating at poker as Da Seevir gobbled down another one of his traditional feasts, Guacamole desperate for a banana.

Entry #1,682

Hello to my readers I may or may not have lured onto my page by being! a freak of nature and shouting it to the world, begging them to accept my Slytherin yellow carcass!!!!

Fun fact: The monkey is the 9th animal that appears on the Chinese zodiac, appearing as the zodiac sign in 2016. I'm excited. Wish me luck when I go down tonight =)!

Fun fact: Rey gives Luke Skywalker a blue lightsaber at the end of Star Wars: the Force Awakens!! Pretty sucky ending LOL!?!111111111111

Fun fact: Tarzan's father's grandson or whoever is sent by the king to the Congo, finds Tarzan and then gives evidence of the Belgian slave trade to the PM of britain?! WTF is that shit? ;O

"Hey, Caitlyn, we're here. You can spoil movies for people later."

"Aw, okay, buckaroo. Let's have some fun. I love not using spoiler alerts," I said, winking at you as I stopped the car on a pedestrian. The villainous PC Principal screamed in the background ironically.

Da Seevir, Guacamole, Caitlyn and I descended from the van and headed directly to Kyle's grandmother's grave. As Guacamole dug up the corpse, we all kissed passionately. Though I think Guacamole doesn't want to fuck Caitlyn. After all, she bites, and her mouth is full of bacteria 'cause she never brushes her teeth. Doesn't stop me from lovin' it.

"Brought to you by McDonald's!" Da Seevir shouted as Guacamole unearthed the glowing green corpse. Guacamole began playing with the skull, chiseling a crack into the skull and sticking his penis into every hole he could find: ear, ear, nose, nose, mouth, crack, eye, eye, crack, mouth, nose, nose, ear, ear, rinse and repeat. His throbbing, pulsating apple-shaped cock head vibrated with pleasure as he prepared a quart of semen inside of him. It resonated with his stretched, blackened soul, sowing and readying his evil seed. He soon came violently, monkey baby gravy enveloping the interior and coating the thin membranes of brain that still remained inside the rotting skull. Those sperm, too, would never meet the mate they sought.

I began to make out intensely with Garrison, my serpent tongue caressing his tonsils. I came. He came. Guacamole came. Da Seevir came, too, fondling the grandmother's genitals with his fingers.

After we all came again, we began a daring new position. Guacamole put the skull back on her head and began to defecate in a cup, ready to fling feces into the hawt sex.

I began to fuck Da Seevir intensely.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, OH, BRUCE!" he shouted.

"OH, SHEILA!" we heard as a shriek came from a wooded clearing across the frozen surface of Stark's Pond.

Ah.

When we had all thoroughly finished coming, I felt slightly blue and...ashamed, despite the blur that was my existence. It seemed to me that Sheila and Sarah were desecrating something that was critically serious in another time and place. But...what? Suddenly, I didn't find my current situation all that funny. I thought intently and grew somber.

Puzzled, I eventually shook my head of these strange thoughts, and left the graveyard. The fate of the world couldn't depend on anything even remotely related to Sarah Jessica Parker. The other...?

How odd. Something wasn't right with this world...

"People, now...?" a voice echoed somberly. It didn't belong here.

---

"Praise our gothic lord Satan!" the preacher demanded, a black wig on his head. What a motherfucking poser prep. The tearful crowd stood up and took off their hats in a sweeping synecdoche, oblivious to his crime against Stanism!

"She was...the loveliest vampire I'd ever kissed," the man said, breaking down in tears. Bawling like a baby, he managed to snag the microphone and utter a quick sentence before crawling off the stage in misery.

"And now...to deliver the eulogy, our beloved president, Barack Obama."

"My friends...my family...God bless America. God bless Obamacare, which is NOT a fucking scam! That is a lie spread by racist bigots who can't accept that I'm FUCKING BLACK!" he screamed angrily, his intimidating black demeanor emanating across the crowd. Butters was unafraid. "If you like your plan, you can keep your plan! I don't care what Politifact says! It's not the Lie of the Year!"

"Fucking vermin," Guacamole thought angrily. "Why don't you tell that to the thousands of Americans who lost their jobs, had to settle for part-time ones, or (best case scenario) did have to switch?! Ugh, this is worse than Clinton and her emails! Even SHE admits it's anything but affordable these days!"

The crowd was beginning to notice the nagger was sweating furiously. He quickly changed the subject.

"And may He bless this poor departed soul. Theo, you were the driving force of my life, the reason I campaigned to be president and fought so hard to end global warming, which I will happily use as a change of subject in an interview when people start questioning me about the disasters in the Middle East that I haven't done shit about. See? Keystone's over now! Setting aside my hundred or so broken campaign promises, I done good, right?" He laughed nervously. The crowd did not join in.

"And not only that, you showed me that I should support the Trans-Pacific Partnership, a great trade deal that will secure our-"

"What? The Secret Service wants to speak to me? Make it quick, I'm in the middle of something here."

"Yeah, they say the TPP is actually a scam that only benefits big corporations, allows them to sue the government if they lose profits, even for decisions that are clearly in the best interest of the citizens, and strengthens copyright laws to a ridiculous degree, even going so far as to destroy certain international provisions that protect authors of fanfiction? And it wasn't very nice of me to hide it from Congress while allowing hundreds of corporations to look at it freely? Well, fuck them, I'm supporting it anyway! 'Murica!" he squealed, closing his flip phone.

"As I was saying, Theo, you were a goddess. May He bless your soul. Amen. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to head to my homeland in Nairobi, Kenya, where I have a birth certificate filled with inaccurate information, just because. In this country, I have a forged birth certificate, but not a long-form for some reason."

"And according to my constituents, I, Barack HUSSEIN Obama am also apparently a devout Christian, Muslim, Jew, Nazi, Marxist, Hindu, gay, Satanist, atheist and Egyptian-British-Russian Antichrist! WHAT THE FUCK, PEOPLE?" he screamed barbarically.

"I SAW THAT INTERNET ARTICLE!" he continued to yell furiously as he began writing an Executive Order to take away everyone's guns.

"BOO! BOO!" The audience screamed, pelting him with rotten tomatoes until he ran off the stage like a chicken. But suddenly, they gasped! It was...their lords, their saviors!

It was...

...

DONALD TRUMP!

AND MISTER GARRISON!

The sliding door to their massive limousine burst open, crushing to death a nearby jogger and revealing the two Giant Douches of this year's historic election.

The perpetually red-faced "self-made" "billionaire" emerged first, shoving Tic-Tacs in his mouth and grabbing Ivanka by the pussy as he carried her across the red carpet.

"Mr. Douche! Mr. Douche!"

"I told you, believe me, if Ivanka weren't my daughter I'd be dating her! But my love for her is HUGE, Trumptastic even, and we'll well past third base now, let me tell you! Women'll let you do anything when you're a star!" And he began to fuck her at the foot of the stage.

"HE'S SO HONEST!" the crowd cheered and climaxed. "SO NOT LIKE A POLITICIAN!"

Garrison reluctantly followed, grabbing Caitlyn by her own pussy.

"Buckle up, buckaroos!" she shouted in greeting at the cheering crowd.

"Mr. Douche! Mr. Douche!"

"I told you, DO NOT vote for me! I have literally fucked a pigeon and a pig in this town! The FBI caught me trying to have sex with a young boy! I needed my dad to molest me to show love, but he got Kenny G to do it instead! I have no idea what the FUCK I'm doing, and I'm the most horrible choice for president ever!"

"HE'S SO HONEST!" the crowd cheered and climaxed. "SO NOT LIKE A POLITICIAN!"

Garrison sighed as they reached the stage, just as Trump moaned orgasmically, having lasted a laughably short time.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....Ivanka......."

Pulling out of her ungraciously a few seconds later, the great man ditched her to leap athletically atop the stage, and promptly began weeping into his elegant handkerchief. And his little tiny wiener, still so "pleasing" to the eye, retreated into the folds of his fat.

"Theo! Oh, how the world has suffered from your loss of beautiful youth and youthful beauty!" he wailed at the heavens. "I now ask you, loyal followers, to join me in a minute of silence to commemorate the memory of Theodora IV Dionysius Olympus Luna Sakura Glitter Cartwoman, the most amazing woman to ever live."

"She had the greatest fashion sense of all time!"

"She had amazing luck!"

"She had excellent taste in movies!"

"She had an astounding memory...for mundane detail!"

The crowd recounted her virtues in their heads as they became deadly silent.

Garrison and Caitlyn pretended to weep, too. Not crying would have cost them the election (yes!), but it would also mean they'd be castrated and killed (doh!).

Eyes fell on the memorial photograph. She was wearing an elegant pink Victorian-style dress that sparkled and shined with her every movement along with two beautiful glass slippers that fit her just right. Her cerulean blue lipstick, glowing in sync with her emerald green orbs, completed her beautiful face adorned with her trademark pearl earrings. Her necklace of the day was adorned with even more miniature gems; blue sapphires, crimson rubies and cyan diamonds.

Da Seevir scratched his head. Part of this display seemed familiar to him somehow, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He shrugged and felt old.

The minute of silence ended. Promising to make America great again with their running mates, the great men were met with cheers as they made a hasty exit to the limousine. Trump rubbed his hands with sanitizer as he crossed the red carpet. Ivanka was left behind, forgotten.

Caitlyn jumped back into the driver's seat, turned on the ignition and plowed through the audience, crushing half the crowd (the fat man and his monkey dodged swiftly) before bashing a hole through the stage and driving away.

There was a hearty round of applause, and tears of joy were shed.

An author-like activist in the audience shook his head in disbelief. "Is this what America has come to? We get to choose between this Pig Fucka, a stupid-ified version of Hitler, and a two-faced warmongering criminal who raked in millions from overseas dictators? Elections truly ARE between douches and turds. Where has my country GONE?" He turned around, returning in disgust to the People Eating Tasty Animals compound, eager to resume his battle for the rights to peta dot org.

Finally, a third figure leaped onto the stage. It was...CHUCK NORRIS!

"OH, HELL NO!" Wendy shouted angrily. The crowd fell silent. Never before had The Whore been this angry before.

"You're nothing but a no-good right-wing Christian nut and conspiracy theorist! You think evolution shouldn't be taught to kids and that atheists are taking over the government! You do NOT deserve your internet fame!"

"B-but, I'm Chuck Norris, and..."

"CAN IT, YOU CHEAP BASTARD! YOU HAVE NO PLACE HERE!"

He wept and ran away. He was too weak to convince even the folk of this mountain town that gay marriage was an abomination. He was nothing but a remnant of old times, and the last thing that had to go: his hat and his lousy career as a washed-up "actor".

What, don't believe me on any of this? Do your research!

---

The next day...

The next day...

Stan had made his decision. The leader of the Goths, the protectors of the planet, had died. There was nothing worth living for anymore. But, he might as well have one last day of self-pleasure before he inevitably followed in her footsteps, as any sensible person would do.

And so, Stan dove into the empty car, the bullets from the Russian mob barely whizzing past his head. The car was so thoroughly empty that, except for him, there could not possibly have been another person there. As he sat, he noticed he was in a 2016 Dodge Grand Caravan, the best-selling minivan in Canada. The compact adjustable leather seats combined with the heated atmosphere, the high-traction tires and the family-style storage space resulted in a luxuriously pleasant trip for Stan and Wendy.

Ah, Wendy...his girlfriend's eyes were blue orbs from the angels attached to her ugly skull, bobbing along in the car next to him. It was just like a penis. Springing upright.

"Stan, I love you. Let's bone," Wendy suddenly insisted, in desperate need of coitus uninterruptus.

"Okay, Wendy. But first I have to pick up Kyle."

Stan stopped the van to pick up Kyle at Skeeter's Bar. He stepped in, looking thoroughly hammered and unable to walk.

"Hey, Kyle, wanna have a good time together?" Kyle nodded firmly and eagerly, his golden auburn natural redhead hair and orbs as emerald as some Phaser gun beams from Star Trek erasing all doubts.

After saying goodbye to Alexander the Great, the fun began.

Stan accelerated to 125 miles per hour and set the van on Cruise Control. They made sweet love on the dashboard, using only melted chocolate as lubricant. When it got sticky, Kyle improvised with his immense intellect and substituted the tequila he had swiped from the bar after being fucked by Cartman. Stan cited his research for his fifth grade dissertation he had read on 4chan to sexy up the mood.

When it was all over Kyle got out of the eighteen-ton big rig, drunkenly staggering to Cartman's home for round two. Stan quietly cruised home and parked in his driveway. He stopped only to get a kiss from Wendy in the backseat.

"Hey, so wanna bone now, my one true and only love?"

Stan nodded, but looked down at her shoes, which were made of the finest cow leather in 18th century North America, based on a production line he knew well for comfort and aesthetics.

Tearing his eyes with great difficulty away from the tech-porn, he rolled a condom over his mouth and passionately kissed the delicious lips of Wendy.

Unbeknownst to him, Wendy had made out with Liane Cartman in the backseat. "Hoes before bros," thought Wendy triumphantly. She recalled the taste of Liane's lips, her ornate vagina, her awesome scissoring talents, as she dug deeper into Stan's throat for a passionate kiss, licking up some mucous membranes.

It was sex, and then it was over.

...

What? Stop looking at me like that!

Were you expecting a detailed description of HETEROSEXUAL sex? C'mon! That kind of humping makes Craig sick. It's possible Theo could be an exception to that? AGH, my brain! What am I thinking? Anyway, I thought the former fact had been established in an earlier timeline. Or was it? I don't think I was there to see it. But if I was, I would have only recalled that event with happiness.

Wendy left the tractor.

---

Meanwhile, at the 2016 Presidential debates...

Vladimir Putin stood by the left podium, enjoying the succulent treatment of his penis.

"Mr. Douche! Mr. Douche!" shouted Anderson Cooper impatiently. "This question's for you, you have two minutes to respond!"

Donald Trump reluctantly pulled his lips away from Putin's dick as he stood up, eliciting an annoyed grunt from the dictator.

"What the fuck is it this time? You let her speak more than me, that's really fair, why do you even want to-"

"Stop being a whiny little bitch, Mr. Douche." Martha Raddatz cut him off sharply. "Now to our audience questions. Payton from Virginia asks: how have you done the most to satisfy Theo's you-know-what?" she asked, her face the picture of grave seriousness.

The stumped Trump gulped nervously and began to stutter.

"U-um, w-w-well, T-Trumptastically-"

"We have shocking footage that even that kid in the orange parka put in more of an effort to satisfy her 24/7 than you did," she continued. "And at least Mr. Douche over there came from that quiet little mountain town, unlike you, Mr. Douche. Mr. Douche, care to reply?"

"Thank you, Martha, I do. Well, you see-"

"I've always loved the Republican Party, good old Honest Abe and all that, 'member him? I think it's only fair that there should be two Republican nominees against one Democrat, just 'cause I'm a special snowflake and I said so."

Theo's powerful words of national policy echoed somberly in Garrison's mind as he continued his reply.

"-I've spent months finding out who our country should be fucking to death: those illegal Canadian aliens, criminals in our jails, Syrian refugees...and those people put in even less of an effort than I did to make this country great again by pleasuring Theo's you-know-what, so the blame should be on them, not me." Mr. Garrison was sweating furiously as he finished his reply.

"Secretary Sandwich, would you care to reply?"

"MY OPPONENT IS A LIAR AND CANNOT BE TRUSTED!" she began, slamming her fist on the podium. Her advisors shook their heads in disbelief.

"Oh, and you're so trustworthy, Bill Clinton abused women, they're here with me tonight, wonderful people, wonderful women-" sputtered Donald, between his explorations of Putin's asshole with his tongue.

"SILENCE! Vote for me or I'll run for president again and again for all eternity!" she laughed evilly, her eyes popping out of her dumpy chin of a skull. Suddenly, she coughed once.

"AHA! You're not fit to be president!" called Mr. Garrison triumelephantly.

"Point of order!" called Lester Holt, from the audience. "Can we stop, ah, persecuting Clinton for stupid reasons that have nothing to do with her actual leadership ability? Who the fuck cares what Bill Clinton did? You've done worse, Trump! She did call the TPP the gold standard, she was involved in an innumerable number of scandals, there's plenty of legitimate criticisms about her, and Obama for that matter, without you fucking idiots having to make stuff up! Fact check your sources, gawd! You're an embarrassment to this country!"

This unexpected hammer-blow of common sense was slowly absorbed by everyone present with half a brain. Which is to say, nobody.

The Giant Douches laughed out loud, and the hostile audience jeered at the black man and pelted him with more rotten tomatoes until he walked out in disgust, only to be run over and killed by Caitlyn as she did wheelies with her sports car in the parking lot outside.

---

Meanwhile, in the depths of Hell...

A powerful and fearsome being sat in contemplation, slowly turning the pages of his book as he pondered its contents thoughtfully.

He sighed in contentment. Life had been so peaceful recently...

"Hey SAAAAY-TAAANN!"

The door burst open and in stepped a gleeful Saddam Hussein.

Satan sighed.

"Saddam, I told you not to come here ever again!"

"Aw, but how could I resist! I love you. And have you seen the news? There's a big shitshow happening up on Earth!"

"The apocalyptic prophecy was a one-time thing, Saddam! You blew your chance, and besides, there's someone up there worse than any of those idiots right now. He could destroy everything, even Hell, and by himself!"

Saddam's gleeful smile disappeared instantly.

"PC Principal," he spat disgustedly.

"He scares even ME, Saddam! He was supposed to die but his soul refused! And he's more evil than you, more evil than Eric Cartman, more evil than Barbara Streisand, I've never seen anything like it!"

"He's really bad, huh..." the deceased dictator muttered quietly. "Yeah, definitely worse than the three candidates...hang on, three candidates?"

"Saddam! Stop changing the-wait, you're right, why are there three again? There should be only two..." Satan frowned. "I don't quite remember why that decision was made..."

---

The unknown consciousness that had been observing their discussion was alarmed. Its single red eye suddenly widened in fear for a moment, but then it remembered the power it held, and returned to its usual malicious leer.

No.

My Influence Will Not Wane.

This Will Not Happen. I Am Special, And I Say So.

South Park, I'm Coming Back For You.

---

Back in South Park...

It was a beautiful, starry night as Stan reached the mountaintop, his coat barely shielding him against the icy drafts emanating from the freezing land below.

Slowly, Stan took measured steps across the snow, cautiously testing it to make sure he wouldn't slide and fall. When he had reached the center, he took a shotgun and aimed it at his unworthy penis, ready to end it all!

"WAIT!" a feminine voice echoed in his mind.

"Y-you-"

"Yep!"

"Then, let's go back in Tim, right?"

"Golly, gosh, gloriosky, of course! Professor Sinister told me exactly how to!"

It was...THEO!

"Big damn surprise," a figure muttered from the shadows. It was the same man who'd made a brief appearance in the Garrison residence earlier. He eyed Stan suspiciously before stepping into a portal and vanishing. He seemed to have been reading something.

---

Three years later...

The War for Earth between the Goths and the Emos was reaching its climax. Theo, leader of La Résistance Gothique, was engaged in a bitter struggle against PC Principal, leader of the Emos, and his horde of evildoing creatures.

Ogres, ghouls and goblins roamed the streets of South Park at-will, wreaking havoc under the sinister eye of PC Principal. His vileness, his pure bloodthirst, couldn't be overstated, even as he remained in the bear trap, sans any source of relief or pleasure. Even Cartman's Mom adamantly refused to have sex with him! For years he had remained trapped in extreme pain, growing emaciated.

But his will to do evil was so strong that his soulless body persisted in the world, commanding the forces that planned to destroy the entire universe...torturing and killing men, women and children for amusement. "This is PC," he thought, as he crushed a random prostitute, shattering her bones in half with his bare hands. He laughed sadistically. Being evil was fun! He'd sold his soul to a demon in exchange for some torture devices long ago, knowing that both he and the demon would be able to hurt and kill more people once the trade was made. It was the driving force in his life.

"Clean this 'consenting' woman up," he barked rudely at a henchman, who looked disgusted but grudgingly carried the remains of the innocent woman off the scene. Her five crying, hungry, orphaned children would never see her again. He sneered.

Only Theodora the Great had the potential to defeat him. As it was, she was constantly assaulted by hordes upon hordes of his creatures: dragons, demons, his second-in-command Cthulhu...it was hard work keeping up. She never lost a battle, but it was time-consuming to destroy his creatures kawaii-style. "One day more," she thought. "One day."

But little did she know that across town another plot was unfolding. And this one just might be the undoing of 'heroine' Lieutenant Mary Sue.

Okay, I won't leave you in suspense! It'd be too much pressure.

As PC Principal tortured, killed and then raped captured kittens along with his subordinate, Stephen Harper, the ex-Prime Minister of Canada who is an incarnate of evil itself, a careful operation was about to begin atop the rooftop of South Park Elementary; one unaffiliated with Goths or Emos. Was it even possible?

Eh, maybe.

---

9:12:00 PM. T minus two hours, forty-eight minutes.

It was A Tense Moment, as those familiar with the original soundtrack of Super Mario Galaxy would understand. A battle was about to take place.

Commander of a horde of faceless goons they had snatched from various planets in space, Da Seevir surveyed the "quiet mountain town" of South Park carefully. All appeared normal, but he knew that hidden somewhere, amongst the back alleys and dilapidated bars, every type of villain lay hidden: Lord Darth Valer Volxemort and his Death Deelers Snap and Loopin, the Goblin King and his lustfully bestial Orcs, Sauron and his vial of "posion", the list went on and on! Oh, and not to mention snakes and giant spiders and aliens. Because why the fuck not.

PC Principal lay trapped somewhere near City Wok, spreading more evil than this world had ever seen.

Da Seevir deeply sighed. It was going to be a struggle. For the past six years he had been working on a master scheme. If it succeeded, he and his mastermind of a boss would become the most powerful beings in the universe. He could restabilize the universe and become supreme ruler of all things for eternity.

If he failed, there were two possible outcomes. Either the Goths under the leadership of Mary Sue would convert all of existence into MCR concerts and other "gothic" bullshit, or the Emos led by PC Principal would lay waste to everything and banish everyone to a dark oblivion.

Needless to say, the stakes were enormous for the fat man and his monkey friend.

"All right," he said at last, turning to face his army. "Launch it."

Central Park Control Console
Version 4.0.5, Alpha E
Ready...

>launch –t 60s –operation "Circuitous Round-Up of Advanced Violent Ecosystems" please

"Brought to you by-"

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (Damn it, Da Seevir, why must you always ruin the joke?)" Guacamole squelched, irritated.

"Sorry," he nodded apologetically, munching on a chocolate bar flavored with artificial banana. Gross. "Hey, they're bad jokes to begin with."

...

Ahem. The epic battle was about to begin.

---

9:46:15 PM. T minus two hours, thirteen minutes, forty-five seconds.

Voldemint paced across the deserted floor of the warehouse, his high heels clacking.

"Snaketail, thou hath failed me again!" he yelled out loud. "I thinketh he ran off after Enoby againth!"

"Snap! Thou and Loopin must get her to kill Vampire Potter and that goffik Draco this time, and doeth it right!"

"Can I rap him again?" Snoop demanded greedily.

"If thou findeth him, thou can haveth him," the Dork Lord responded dismissively, shaking his head. "Fucking idiot! Can't control his urges. Why am I surrounded by idiots?"

Snip nodded in satisfaction and finished doin' it with Loopin in the hallway. This would be a fun night. Lumpkin masticated excitedly.

Just then, Snaketail jumped into the room. Volcemort opened his eyes. "Thou hath good news, Snaketail?"

"Egogy has a new companion!" he shouted.

It was............BUTTERS!

"THOU ART AN IDIOT, SNAKETAIL!!" he shooted loudly. "Why hath you not told me six years yonder ago?"

"How did you know that?!" Snaketail yielded.

"I hath telekinesis!" He answered cruelly. "Now thou must taketh this gun and give it to thy beloved Eboby!" "Can these fools even get ANYTHING done?"

Suddenly, he got a message on his iPod.

"What?!" he shooted angrily. The message had an interesting 'proposition'...

---

10:11:36 PM. T minus one hour, forty-eight minutes, twenty-four seconds.

A confused Sauron walked down to his torture chamber beneath City Hall, holding yet another vial of "posion". He had been issuing constant instructions to his Orcs to "whipe" and "bet" the captured girl laura for months now, as he sat on his chair doing absolutely nothing except watching his peons create more of the gunk.

Yet there were these moments in-between where the more critical part of his being spoke out in his mind. It felt like a large part of his being was struggling to escape a prison of insanity. Didn't he have wars, stratagems and webs of fear he should be overseeing? But no, that was silly...his purpose in life was to torture and "posion" laura, right?

His mind kept giving him visions of an alternate timeline where two strangely-clad adventurers had killed the girl and freed him mentally. But he shook his head. Ridiculous!

Suddenly, a piece of paper materialized at his feet. Curious, the armored being reached out, his eyes thoroughly inspecting the contents. He smiled, his first genuine one in years.

---

11:02:59 PM. T minus fifty-seven minutes and one second.

Celebrían finished sucking down the last quart of Warg semen for the day, her distended stomach having a much larger-than-normal capacity after countless years of experience.

The former wife of Elrond had been the Queen of each Goblin King under the Misty Mountains for nearly a millennium. Her huge, sagging breasts and immensely stretched labia, along with the rest of her body, was adorned with metallic piercings and tattoos; they covered every inch of her form.

The current Goblin King nodded at her approvingly. Today, she'd outdone herself, having pleasured not only the king but his entire guard, their entire stable of farm animals, and now every last one of the Wargs they used as mounts. Twice.

She leaped happily onto her throne, covered from head to toe in sperm and winking seductively at her husband.

Inexplicably, Celebrían was also the brains behind this operation, having been consulted on every strategic matter for centuries after her choice to become Queen. It was her that pushed the King to expand his operations once the barrier was shattered, and her that directed the troops in their invasion of this quiet mountain town, and her that aligned the faction of goblins with the nefarious PC Principal. Of course, even she, nearly devoid of empathy, was disgusted by the extent of his evil. She slightly regretted that decision.

She shook her head and smiled to herself. A legendary double-cross was in the works.

As she gave the King the pleasure of her ass for the 1,874^th time, a messenger burst into the room. The goblin wasn't fazed; it was rare not to encounter the King and Queen in intercourse. As their Majesties continued to bump and grind on the throne, he presented Celebrían with a letter that had just arrived. Thanking the messenger with a wave of her hand, she opened the envelope and glanced over the contents.

"Oh? How curious..." she murmured quietly.

Five minutes later...

"Elf-bitch! It's time to be my whore again!" Ithguk XII demanded with a gleam in his eye. Though his wife was the de facto ruler of his clan, holding enough influence to have him killed, she enjoyed being a whore so much that she insisted on being treated like one. She wouldn't stop, even if it killed her.

She looked up from her third titty-fuck of the day with a royal guardsman, smiling seductively. She readied herself; her aroused lavender nipples stood erect at her command.

"Name yourself, whore." It was a phrase that had been repeated to her for centuries at her explicit request.

"I, the elf-bitch Celebrían; dick-sucker, semen-swallower, cock-muncher, the pleasure toy for everyone's rod, humbly beg to pleasure yours in turn, king-whose-dick-I-beg-to-lick."

The Goblin King couldn't keep his three feet of warty penile membrane in his loincloth any longer. It emerged, filled with Orcish fluids.

"You know what to do." The king said, lifting himself slightly off his throne.

Grinning uncontrollably, Celebrían leaped behind him and slipped her soft tongue into the king's shit-covered bowels. She licked up every last drop of brown chocolatey goodness. It reminded her of the ice cream she had been eating for centuries to enlarge her breasts to their present size.

As her tongue reached the king's gluey, twitching prostate gland, she strategically stretched her tongue to pleasure tiny points of it for seconds at a time, stopping only when the king was shouting with pleasure.

As Ithguk's immense ass crack crashed onto the throne, she nimbly jumped and did a one-eighty in mid-air, landing with her mouth on the king's giant, trembling cock. She quickly placed the bobbing apple of his dick head into her mouth and began to suck on it, just in time to catch the quarts and quarts of semen that poured down her throat to reach her cum-tank of a stomach. A wart on the king's cock burst into pieces, splattering green slime on her face.

Ithguk had reached Goblin Heaven. He and his wife grinned at each other.

"You're so much better than any Orc-bitch could be. Now for a pussy-fuck!"

---

11:11:11 PM. T minus forty-eight minutes and forty-nine seconds.

"It is time, Commander."

One of Da Seevir's faceless goons from another dimension tapped the round leader on the shoulder, then vanished. If Da Seevir had read the Evil Overlord List, he'd certainly forgotten Rule Number One!

"I suppose it is."

Da Seevir and Guacamole took a last look at the seemingly quiet streets of South Park. It was a wet October night. The first snow had not yet fallen. The faint grey clouds at the edge of the sky seemed mournful.

"This will be the last time we see this town, Guacamole," he muttered, twirling his eighties-style porn star mustache. "Savor it. Nwehehehehe! That's one 'nwe' and four 'he's, by the way."

Guacamole stared into the distance. For a school, this rooftop was impressively high off the ground, commanding a wide view in every direction. A distant mountain covered in clouds stood out in particular.

"Something for the future," he thought as he munched on a real banana, a rare gift from his captor and friend.

A few minutes later, the dynamic duo left the rooftop. The wind was howling.

---

12:00:00 AM. T.

A flame-headed kid and his talking dog, most likely from some squash and stretch cartoon world, were on the scene.

"Isn't there supposed to be a ton of people here? We should leave."

"Relax. Three, two, one..." and they bolted, successfully evading great trouble for once.

On cue, Sauron and a force of Orcs were the first on the scene a few seconds later. They carried a bound laura, who had been "injeted" with more "posion". Close on their heels were Celebrían and the Goblin King in their depraved bestial glory. Goblins swarmed the scene along with a few cave trolls. They were mounting some well-pleasured Wargs.

Seconds later, Darth Valer and his Death Deelers burst out of the factory wall, aiming their special sticks at everyone in the vicinity and searching for that one vampire girl.

The three confused military forces and their armed leaders glared at each other. They had all reached the meeting point and were furious at each other.

"Thy thinks thou are superior to me, saggy flapjacks?" Volsemort taunted the Goblin Queen. "Then come forth, sister!"

Celebrían wasn't fazed. "Oh, sinister. I'm truly terrified of a card-carrying villain of the highest order that engraves his Dork Marks on the you-know-what's of his servants."

"WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME? I SEEEEEE YOU." Sauron bellowed menacingly. "YOU DARED SUMMON ME. I EXPECT SOME EXCITEMENT."

Darth Valer was enraged. "Thou cannoth be more evil than thy am!" he screamed in a raspy manner.

Suddenly, Celebrían held up her hands. Seeing the strange behavior of her adversaries, her innate elvish wisdom had given her an inkling of the truth. "Wait a minute. Did either of you send any messages tonight?"

The Dark Lord and the Bark Lord shook their heads no.

"Then, we..."

"Correct. How very astute you are, my friend," Da Seevir chuckled, emerging from the shadows with Guacamole at his side.

"Da Seevir! What is the meaning of this?" everyone shouted, enraged.

"Now hold on. Before you attack me, I'll have you know I'm not alone." He snapped his fingers and an army of faceless goons larger than all three of his guests' combined appeared behind him, armed to the teeth.

"But...I didn't come here to attack you," he continued. "All of us have different goals, different agendas..."

"Different styles of leadership..." he paused to snicker at Lord Volxemort.

"But the fact is we all have ONE goal. To capture HER power." There was no doubt in anyone's mind who he was referring to. The other leaders slowly nodded in agreement.

"How will you bring her here, Da Seevir?" Celebrían questioned. All hostility in the town square had vanished, replaced by the lure of unlimited power.

"Oh, she'll come, don't worry. Now, we'll need all our strength to defeat her," he said, nodding at the army behind him. "So I brought a little muscle. Are we ready, leaders?"

"Evony, your destruction hath come at last!" Voldymort gloated in triumph.

"If only that were true, Voldemont..." Celebrían pondered wistfully. "But our time to reign supreme has come at last!"

"FACE THE MIGHT OF MORDOR!"

"I like the enthusiasm. Here we go!"

Theodora IV Dionysius Olympus Luna Sakura Glitter Cartwoman, tired after a hard day of defeating PC Principal's nefarious forces, was on her way home. It was then that she heard a scream coming from the town square.

Quick on the scene and ready to kill some Emo ass, she swung her katana in front of her before realizing that the scream had come from a familiar face.

It was...BILLY BOB!

Clutching yet another bottle of vodka, the homeless man was about to begin yet another war. What a prick.

Theo rushed to save Billy Bob from the Fiend Intemperance, but it was then that, like dominoes, the shot that Da Seevir had fired from his sniper rifle when he initially arrived in South Park years ago finally finished its Rube Goldberg chain, releasing an anvil that had been suspended far above the town for, well, no real reason.

Billy Bob opened a tiny umbrella and kissed his ass goodbye.

Theo, spotting the anvil about to fall and crush Billy Bob, leaped into the air. With a crack, she kicked the anvil off-course. It shattered onto the pavement and she landed...

Right on top of a red "X". Before she could react further, enchanted chains wrapped themselves around her, rooting her in place. Her katana was snagged from her by a sneering Celebrían, who waved it in the air tauntingly.

Death Deelers, orcs and goblins came out of doorways, windows and manhole covers all around her, weapons aimed aggressively. Da Seevir's faceless goons completed the outer perimeter, laser blasters ready to fire.

"THE END OF MARY SUE!" Sauron cried in triumph. "THIS WORLD IS MINE!"

Theo stared in disbelief at the predicament she had stepped into. It seemed that there was nothing more she could do. Sadly, she closed her eyes, dropped her head towards the ground and surrendered.

"We hath won!" Voldremort made his appearance. "I'm back, Ebory!" The grin he bore was a mix between a slasher smile and a Cheshire cat grin.

"Y-you...you..." Theo began, stuttering.

Suddenly, she sprang up and grinned savagely.

"You IDIOTS. You call THIS an ambush? I am the GOD of this world. I admit, playing around with my food is fun, too. But I'm afraid you've underestimated the abilities of ME, the original Mary Sue! Get ready to become free EXP."

Laughing, she ripped herself free of the chains. "Power One: My mouth. You didn't even try to gag me, motherfuckers. Watch this."

"Help!" She lazily said to the sky, her voice not even raised to a full shout.

The three leaders looked around. For a moment, nobody came. But then...

"THEO!" Cartman yelled fiercely. The residents of South Park were hot on his heels, carrying a plethora of guns with them. They stormed the scene, ready to battle to the death for the woman who'd brought so much...change...into their town.

Suddenly, a yell was heard from the hilltop. Theo's parents, Enjolras and Katniss, emerged in the glowing sunlight of the Dawn of a New Day, armies of their own swarming the square. They now easily matched their adversaries in number.

A rumbling noise across the mountains signified the U.S. Military, led by the best of the Navy SEALS, were inbound; it was Obama doing his damned best to protect his muse.

Theo finished slurping down her Invincibility Coke and threw away the can.

"Being the original Mary Sue, I have a few tricks my agents can't do. Normally, they only possess up to a few canon characters, and merely Suefluence all the others. But as you'd know if you followed me intently, when I'm here, there's no such thing as an original character! Everyone here is now a clone of me!" She laughed, an incredibly disturbing eldritch noise that shook the very mountains. But her armies were deaf to it.

Lord Voldemort, Celebrían and Sauron were no longer smug. Fear had been mystically etched into the deepest regions of their black hearts, and they collapsed. Their armies quailed in despair at the very sight of the infinitely monstrous being in front of them. What could they even do before such a creature?

"THEO!" A yell answered the Sue's laugh, shaking the valley twice as hard.

It was...PC PRINCIPAL!

"Did you just call my Pussy Crushing.....UNORIGINAL?!" he screamed barbarically. "GAME ON, BRO! YOU'LL NEVER BE MORE EVIL THAN ME, DUDE!!!"

Suddenly, Cthulhu and his extradimensional creatures came from the east front, tossing away Obama's jets and SEALS as if they were paper airplanes.

From the north came hordes upon hordes of demons from the deepest reaches of a true Hell; from the west, dragons with a breath of fire that could incinerate cities; from the south, every dead person that ever walked the Earth heard the Pussy Crusher's call, billions upon billions of corpses rising to form gigantic behemoths of flesh or rapidly rushing forward to wantonly murder everything in existence.

It was, greatly and truly, a Latin Standoff.

"That's my hand, bro!" PC Principal yelled in triumph, as his minions carried his emaciated form, his foot still stuck in that goddamn bear trap. "What's yours?"

The slasher smile had not left Mary Sue for a second.

"Nice try, PC Principal. I really do applaud your creative spirit. And that DETERMINATION is nothing to sneer at, either, even though you do it during your every waking moment on this Earth."

"But I'm afraid you've forgotten Power Two!"

"Power Two?" Voldemort questioned in disbelief. Another one?!

"MY VAGINA!" she yelled to the sky as she ripped off all her clothes.

It was then that the snow that had just begun to fall on this new day promptly melted, and the sky cleared itself of even the faintest clouds. It was HOT in South Park.

"TIME FOR AN ORGY, EVERYONE!" she cried in derisive triumph. The citizens of South Park were only too happy to oblige, as was nearly every enemy within viewing range.

For obvious reasons, PC Principal wasn't affected in the slightest. Sauron resisted slightly but was eventually overcome. As for the others...

Sparky and Whinnie were the first on the scene, the dog stroking the horse to the greatest climax he'd achieved in years.

Stan softly tackled Kyle to the ground and fucked him passionately, filling him with his love, 'cause you know, that's what Stan and Kyle do, right? Clyde and Token were in a similar predicament.

Wendy sat down on the ground and was immediately filled with cocks from the most desperate guys in town. Mr. Adler stuck it up her ass, Principal Victoria down her throat, Rancher Steve balls deep in her vagina, and Tom Bombadil up her nose!

The cries of Sheila and Sarah Jessica Parker were almost inhumanely loud as they practiced their new sex positions inspired by that great sex guide, The ToyBag Guide to Erotic Knifeplay. Yes, that actually exists. No, you really shouldn't read it.

Dobby sucked off Professor McGoogle as Snap and Loopin did it over and over again in a hallway, Loopin reaching Critical Mastication Point in seconds.

Even I, third-person omniscient narrator Tweek Tweak, participated in the fun with my boyfriend Craig. But we just kissed. Hey, I'm a bit shy, okay? And we can read the Words of this world, we're not stupid. Ahem.

And of course, Kenny and Butters were having the time of their lives, though for them it was something they'd both really wanted for a while but were too shy to do. How cute.

Not so cute: Mayor McDaniels was taking the cocks of both of her aides, bouncing back and forth, semen gushing into a pool on the ground, where it was licked up by Snooki as Christophe and Gregory rolled around on the ground making out intensely.

Bebe, Red and Heidi Turner were leading the rest of the group in a fifty-girl scissoring session. Bodily fluids of all varieties were dripping all over the pavement, staining it for all of eternity with their sweet juices.

The fun wasn't limited only to the armies of Theo. Though a huge pileup reminiscent of that wave of time-traveling immigrants was beginning in front of City Hall, the enemies had become our friends. Well, for the time being anyway.

The Death Deelers, Orcs and Goblins? Let's just say they were being expertly serviced by a known professional. Audible wink, audible wink.

Dragon cocks and pussies emerged from everywhere as flames collided in passionate airborne kisses. Demons belched dark magic as their huge cocks swashbuckled flamboyantly.

Even Yivo joined in, his gazillions of tentacles penetrating each and every one of the participants in this fine orgy.

The dead were having the greatest orgy of all, rotting crotches thrusting at the air looking for the satisfaction they would never again feel. Giant behemoths of flesh shambled around and about as corpses penetrated each other emptily. But hey, as sad as their lack of orgasms is, at least there's no mess to clean up, right?

Speaking of messes, Obama was licking up the very last of Donald Trump's cock snot, bowing down to the man who was infinitely greater than him.

God came down from Heaven and Satan came up from Hell; those quarrelling, misunderstood ex-lovers made up, beginning to penetrate each other intensely. But the hottest couple of the morning was definitely John Lennon slash Gerard Way. According to Enoby, of course.

For days and days, the orgy of immense satisfaction continued, until the entire town was a literal eight-foot-deep river of semen. It seemed there was no end to this pleasure!

"Hey, guys!" Theo eventually yelled. "I WANT YOU ALL INSIDE ME!"

The crowd gasped in a final synecdoche. Everyone, penetrate Theo? It couldn't be done! Or...could it? She smiled seductively.

Using her reality-warping powers, Theo reshaped her body to boost her ego. Her flesh twisted and stretched until her body was fifty feet long and wide and full of long dark holes all over. It was truly...phenomenal? And more than a little horrifying, in retrospect.

"ALL RIGHT, TIME TO PENETRATE ME!" she screamed in glee.

The cocks and pussies from all over started to go in! One, two, three, four, five, six...!

"You think we should intervene?" said one cloaked figure to another. He had seen disturbing characterization before, but this took the cake. He nearly shuddered in disbelief. He thanked Glod they were wearing powerful armor specially crafted for them by the humble yet legendary Makes-Things. Using it, they were (barely) able to protect themselves from Mary Sue's abilities, as long as they kept themselves at a distance. That didn't help with all the mini-Sues and mini-Aragogs that kept falling into their laps, though.

"No," said the man from earlier. "Destroying that one Suefluence Vector seems to have set off a sufficient chain reaction. Haven't you seen the Words lately?"

"Oh...I see. Clever, very clever of him. Well then, we should "enjoy" the show, I guess?" he asked his partner uncertainly.

"Upstairs would force us to, anyway, even though we've...regulated it. There's just no way we can risk reading out the charges directly this time around. Let's just hope this doesn't get too out of hand. And by that I mean any more disturbing than it already is." He pinched the bridge of his nose in absolute disgust.

And so, the Protectors of the Plot Continuum decided, for once, not to intervene further. After all, this world didn't need their help any longer. Why? Stay tuned to find out!

"...Fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one...KEEP THEM COMING, PEOPLE!" Theo screamed. "Sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, AHA, sixty-nine!"

But it was then that she froze.

Suddenly, massive dark, dead hands burst out from underneath the earth and restrained her, locking the vampiric woman and her lovers in place. She struggled to break free, but in vain. "W-what?" she uttered. "Where are my powers?! WHERE ARE MY POWERS!?"

 

-miroir-

 

It was then that Da Seevir and Guacamole, having been conspicuously absent until now, joined the "party". At a silent twitch of the fat man's will, his massive army of otherworldly foes rematerialized into existence, providing covering fire.

"Da Seevir, Guacamole, well done! Without you, we could never have gotten this far!"

"Aw, it was nothing, boss." Da Seevir said humbly, unable to hide the grin on his face.

"Ooh-ooh-aah-aah! (Banana heaven, here I come!)" Guacamole squealed excitedly.

"Wait, WHAT?!" Theo screamed. "It was YOU? You all along? How could you!"

"Indeed, it is I, Theo. Magnificat IV, your beloved cat. You see, exposure to you has granted me sentience. And only a fool wouldn't desire the magical goo you possess. Having done my...shall we say, research – I discovered you'd developed an undying love for being penetrated during your séjour at Hogwarts. Seeing your growing powers corrupting the citizens of South Park, I concocted a scheme with my friends here that would bring everyone together. Having cast a special binding curse using all the power I could absorb from you, I was virtually assured your disgusting lust would lead you to your current predicament." The cat chuckled quietly. "You will be phased out of existence, into the nothingness that you truly are, deep down. Hence the name of my ritual."

"So yes. The cat was the mastermind. You jelly?" Magnificat IV licked his paws as he slowly walked on the pavement, leaping onto the horrific distended mess to look into Mary Sue's eyes.

"The boundless power of Mary Sue, combined with my genius-level intelligence. With Da Seevir and Guacamole at my side, I will take over or destroy all worlds, unchallengeable! And once I'm done with this universe, I'll move on to the next! How does that sound?"

He raised his paw, claws ready to tear into this Queen of Sues, this Destroyer of Reality. "Does 'Theo' have any last words for the world to hear?" he sneered.

"Gerard, I-"

SLASH!

"Heh, you actually thought I would give you last words. How adorable." Magnificat snickered, the greatest Cheshire cat grin of all time on its face.

A huge gash went right down the length of Mary Sue's body. True to the cat's words, it began to fade as the goo lifted itself into the air, the glittery red substance inches away from his claws...

TAC-TAC-TAC-TAC-TAC! BOOM!

Magnificat fell to the ground, dead. He was, after all, just a cat, and without the Sue's goo, no match for the barbaric brown people that had just shot him to death.

The PPC Agents quickly summoned a portal and made their escape.

Da Seevir's faceless goons, enraged and yet overjoyed at actually having a part to play in these events, fired at will to avenge their late master. An insane amount of laser rifle fire and a hailstorm of bullets was immediately shot in all directions, all of the projectiles hitting anything but their targets; civilians, airplanes 32,000 feet in the air, the sea of semen rich and gold, the side of Farmer Bill's barn...

"Note to self," Guacamole thought. "Next time, get goons who can learn to hit a man-sized target at ten meters. As old Kenobi wisely said, only Imperial stormtroopers can be this precise."

...But then a few did hit those sneering brown people and simply bounced off with no visible effect, leaving the villains in a fit of laughter at their adversaries' stupidity.

Da Seevir gasped.

Yes, even he gasped. It's a beloved tradition by now!

Even though his special-issue weapons had been rigged to successfully damage creatures no matter which fictional universe they were from, his armies' attacks were completely useless...

That's impossible.

Unless-

That power exists in the world we're in, that Theo has been raping this whole time

But nobody in this world is immune to bullets except

Except

...SADDAM HUSSEIN??! It can't be...

A wordless image of the Biggest Bitch in the Whole Wide World, and the chaos she and Billy Bob had unleashed, crossed the fat man's surprisingly sharp and attentive mind.

Right, ALL creatures from Hell can't be killed on Earth because their new body's invulnerable to outside forces; he ALSO said their memory becomes indestructible too so they're immune to mind-altering, but--but Hell can't be escaped, where are they supposed to go, Detroit?!

A dangerous cult had discovered the secrets of resurrective immortality and traded them, striking secret deals with a chosen few, Damien had been so upset about that when they'd last spoken...

That parka-clad orange snotrag with the drunken parents who were too high on crack to know what they were doing? No, he was Suefluenced too, in that disgusting orgy at City Hall...it has to be someone more powerful than that-

I mean, he is powerful and smart, very much so, and those immunities mean he could possibly be only faking the Suefluence; without even counting what would happen if his body were restored from a clinical death after his soul had already started the respawning process, that might result in TWO incarnations of him...I'd have to test if it works or if his dead body just disappears at reincarnation time but I don't have time for that, it'd draw negative attention from the big boss in Hell, and anyway none of that should make him immune to bullets...so who could it -

OH. The cult of CTHULHU, that means-if it's not Saddam or the kid, then it can only be-

There was one being here that was far more evil than Saddam Hussein.

One asshole who was so powerful and vicious in his evil that even Cthulhu and the demons from the Gates of Hell bowed down to him.

FUCK WHY DIDN'T I FORESEE THIS NOW THE PLAN IS DOOMED FOR SURE

...I have to act fast

But WAIT A MINUTE, what the hell is up with the-?

On cue, said perpetually smug evildoer emerged, proudly presented by his minions, who were seemingly still too incompetent to get him out of that. God. Damn. Bear trap.

"Equal opportunity employment!" called the genocidal megalomaniac named PC Principal, who'd hired the turban-wearing terrorists. "That's liberal arts progress, baby! And that's also what you get for forgetting I was in this story!" he screamed while wagging his finger at you.

"I'm gonna take this all-powerful ultimate goo, bro, ditch these wannabe Emo assholes, dude, and my PC frat will spread "social justice" to every corner of this universe, dude! WE ARE PC, BRO! YOU PC, BRO? We will GENTRIFY, we will CENSOR, and we will make this world stunning, brave, language policed and overpriced as FUCK, dude! And after that, bro, we'll-

"OH SHIT! QUICK! EVERYONE OUT OF THE UNIVERSE!" Da Seevir screamed. While PC Principal was monologuing, the airborne goo had started exploding violently. And without a host for this reality-warping power...

The entire planet began to shake and spin. Distortions in space and time opened everywhere. A reality-breaking paradox had occurred, and this universe was about to end.

A black hole engulfed PC Principal, and he met a fate he rightfully deserved: his body was comically stretched like a noodle by the strength of the expired star, inflicting ludicrous amounts of pain to his soulless husk. It would take a long time for him to fully expire, but he would feel more ever-increasing pain as his body's atoms were split apart from each other, one by one. Naturally, he would be conscious for the entirety of this horrific death.

Suddenly, Kenny McCormick, sparing only a quick glance backwards and having been waiting for the right moment for a long time now, leaped into the vortex to spare all worlds from their destruction.

CRAAAAAAASH!

All was silent. Deadly silent. Until...

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

---

Stuart McCormick sat bolt upright in bed, shivering. His head was spinning and he felt very ill to his stomach. "Goddamn it, what a horrible, awful dream!" he yelled. Carol was nowhere to be found. She was no doubt at the Broflovskis again, he thought miserably. His outbursts of drunken anger had been increasingly abusive of late. His wife and kids, already hostile to him, had flat-out screamed that they'd rather fend for themselves than be beaten black and blue every day of the week. Their friends had generously given them a place to stay in the interim.

For him, the divorce papers were surely on their way. Courtesy of his ex-friend Gerald, who had more than once given him a vicious glare over the past week. The police had raided his house and confiscated most of his supply – he was due in court two weeks from now. Surely he had paid already. What more had to go wrong?

"Well, THIS, obviously."

He slowly lowered himself back down as he tried to calm his rapid breathing. Never had he been more awake. "What happened?" he whispered. He was mentally drained. How could one dream be so damn vivid and creepy? Did he have a bad trip?

Why were they so RACIST?

Why were they so CRAZY?

And most of all, why couldn't people find a happy medium between policing language and being a xenophobic asshole? That last one stumped him most of all.

He tried to flip on the room's lamp, but remembered it was broken. With a sigh, he got out of bed and pulled down the tarp obstructing the window. The bright orange lights of the street seeped into the room. No homeless were in sight, for the time being.

With the aid of the light, he searched for his pipe, finally grabbing it from its resting place on the floor. "One of the only valuable things I own," he reflected sadly.

Well, now that he had it, the only question was "how much?" His recollection of the previous day's events was hazy at best. He'd had a few beers, watched the NASCAR Sprint Club Series...and passed out in this very room a few hours after he'd smoked a piece of the brick concealed under his bed.

Suddenly, it clicked. He stood up and lifted the mattress, examining the white brick suspiciously. He dared not take a sniff of it. Had it been laced with something? For only a moment, it seemed to him that it had a faint blue sheen to it. He blinked. Did it...?

"I got it from my dealer last Monday," he recalled. "But he's a good guy...impure shit isn't his style, and he would never give me this...poisonous feeling I have in my head right now." But he'd also remembered his dealer that day had behaved a little strangely. He had tried to conceal it, but even Stuart could see that something had unnerved him.

He knew his dealer was trustworthy; not to mention, the police in this town rarely responded to, well, anything. He had nothing to fear from the law, but he still felt uneasy.

As he'd walked home later that day, he'd suddenly felt a curious urge as he crossed through downtown. A cold rain was falling, and few people were on the streets. For a reason he could not explain, he felt drawn to a certain alleyway in the darkness of Shi Tpa Town, opposite where that horrible advertisement was found only six months earlier.

He had decided to investigate. Cautiously, he'd put down his grocery bags and ventured forward. He didn't know what he was expecting to find: his dealer? An old friend? One of the homeless? As he reached the midpoint of the lane, a powerful force from behind suddenly slammed him into the western wall, knocking down several trash cans.

He scrambled to his feet to find himself face to face with a very short man in a navy blue jacket, his face concealed under his hood. A badge displaying a curious emblem was on his chest, and his gloved hand was outstretched. Stuart wanted to strike the assailant, but something about the figure filled him with dread and stayed his hand. He contented himself by glaring at the man for the time being.

"It would seem you're going to be judged soon." The figure spoke in a calm, deep voice he had never heard before. "Allow me to give you some friendly advice." He paused. Stuart's brown eyes widened.

"If you keep going the way you are now..."

A blue light shone from underneath the hood.

"...you're gonna have a bad time." The man pulled back his hand. He then turned around, took several quick steps in the opposite direction and turned out of the alley. By the time Stuart caught up with him, the figure was gone, and no one could even tell him they had seen the guy, much less where he went. Spying Gerald on the opposite sidewalk, he decided to make a hasty exit.

This incident was refreshed in his mind and he pondered once more who this mysterious stranger was. He evidently knew a lot about Stuart's situation. Mysterion again? But no one had seen the hero for a long time. Besides that, the voice was unfamiliar to him.

He glanced again at the brick, surveyed the disaster that was his house, and then he understood. This strange man, whomever he was, had given him a last chance. No doubt he was the true cause of this...unpleasant...experience.

He, Stuart, was spiraling down a dangerous path. His wife of twenty years had left him along with his three children, and if he continued being a...

"...A waste of space," he admitted bitterly. His mind seemed to have cleared, and he saw more clearly than ever the evils of his situation. A powerful feeling of guilt overtook him as the wounded expressions of his children flashed in his memory; Kevin's stoic mask, Kenny's silent hateful stare, Karen's terrified gaze. He moaned loudly and stood in shameful thought for several lengthy minutes. It was then that he was filled with new determination.

His life was irrecoverable, but he owed it to Carol and most of all to his children; he had to do what he could for them. Perhaps, one day, even he might find happiness, at least in knowing he had made a difference for the better. The thought brought him a glimmer of hope. A new resolution took hold within him.

"I have two weeks," he said to himself. "Two weeks to shape up." There was a long pause.

"I'll find a way."

---

Aftermath, the Old Farmer:

The farmer scratched his head.

"As I said, sir, they just appeared here one day, and I've had to plant more and more of them. I guess people are really craving these kinds of feelings these days. We're in troubling times."

The shadowy figure in front of him nodded quietly.

"Well, they're effective. These are some seriously advanced mind-altering and memory recall functions, and useful if I transform them with my own abilities..." he trailed off. "You're sure you have no idea where they came from...around half a year ago, you said?"

"Not as of yet," the farmer shook his head after a moment. "Though there's a new vineyard up the road with a similar product, I think they might be involved in this."

Truly, he didn't understand what this suspicious man's deal was, or what he was going on about. Normally he'd have chased the guy off, but he was apparently very rich and paying the farmer at a thousand dollars a minute for his time, so why the hell wouldn't he answer a few questions.

"I see. Well, thanks for your time and for another free sample of these things. I'll put it to good use. More customers and all that," the figure winked.

He blinked, and the shadow was gone.

---

Aftermath, ????:

He fiddled with the magically silenced grapes in his grip.

This was troubling; they were definitely both toxic and powerful, a major game-changer. He'd just tested that for himself, after all. They had appeared six months ago? The rules of the apparent timespace anomaly in this area were unclear and changed frequently, but it was evident to anyone with common sense that it severely disrupted both the aging and time perception of South Park's residents, so that statement had to be questioned. Case in point, the war with Canada had occurred in 1999. Fast forward to 2016, and children and adults alike had only aged, what, two, maybe three years? And nobody seemed to notice this, here or elsewhere in the world – other parts of the world were also of increased irrationality and stupidity, but lacked the slower aging factor. Pointing it out only got you an odd look. Strange indeed. You could almost say that South Park stayed in an "ambiguous time period" of sorts, similar to the concept of purgatory.

He supposed he didn't need to worry too much. Indicators were that once this magic effect eventually dissipated and the blatant craziness disappeared from the world, the citizens here wouldn't remember most of it. Teenagers might remember it as some kind of crazy game they all played when they were kids; it seemed the children were less prone to the effect than the adults were. More intelligent and wise, and less forgetful and accepting of the craziness.

Would they also forget, when they grew older, about Barbara Streisand, Cthulhu, that portal at the burial ground...these accursed fruits from hell? They'd still be there, as observable phenomena, but he expected only bits and pieces of the memories of them would remain, and therefore their existence would likely be forgotten, their secrets remaining undiscovered.

He winced. Amnesia was no joke, and speaking as a scientist, especially so when it prevented you from remembering cool and interesting occurrences. At least it wouldn't hurt the memories of their personal lives, or so he hoped. He knew only too well how much more devastating that could be. Their minds should fill in the blanks of what they'd forgotten by using their own suggestibility, similar to the forgetfulness imposed by that resurrective immortality curse.

He sighed. He knew interfering with the natural course of events was unwise, and this he had already done. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Bringing back the status quo is about the best I can do while I'm at it," he murmured sadly.

The sour grapes were crushed in his hand. His left eye glowed blue, and he turned his attention to the distant realm of Downtown, home of corrupt merchant lords and homeless people.

---

Aftermath, Gerald Broflovski:

The lawyer frowned at his uncomfortable chair. He'd had back problems ever since his rather embarrassing attempt to become a dolphin, and Sheila had demanded that he at least get a comfortable chair for his office. He'd placed an order for a very nice-looking one yesterday, and he admitted it was something to look forward to. Idly, he wondered if his son might face the same problem one day...but no, Kyle was too smart for that. Magnificent creatures of the sea as dolphins are, he'd surely wait for the procedure to be safe, right? He'd learned the same lesson Gerald did, when they both tried those surgeries, and his intelligence had only grown since then.

He smiled proudly as he imagined his son as a lawyer or accountant somewhere, fussing over the big and small details of important matters, hopefully far beyond this little mountain town. It would be a significant task, almost a more important position than his own status as Elite Yelper.

He listlessly scanned through his case files for the night, scowling when he found the McCormicks'. Carol had been so angry at her husband, her tales of his abuse shocking even him. His former best friend Stuart had become a pathetic wretch, a shadow of his former self. The rest of his family was residing in the Broflovskis' guest room for the time being, quietly sleeping down the hall.

It was a headache he hated having to deal with, but such was life in South Park. Surely he deserved a drink for dealing with it, though.

His eyes wandered the room, finally landing on the new bottle of wine. The store clerk, presumably eyeing the gold badge entitling him to the special treatment he deserved, had been extremely enthusiastic to give him the bottle as a present, and wouldn't take no for an answer. He chuckled. It must be his good reputation at work. He'd be writing a fifty-page in-depth review of his exact thoughts and feelings over this interaction later, of course.

Gerald uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass, sighing as he continued putting the finishing touches on his case work for the night.

As his mind was set on readying his best courthouse game to get Carol and the McCormick children the best life they could obtain, he took his first sip.

His eyes widened.

---

Aftermath, Judge Julie:

"After careful review, it is the judgement of this court that Mr. Stuart McCormick is not guilty, because a man cannot be found guilty of abusing his wife. Mrs. Carol McCormick, I order you to give the defendant half your stuff and $1.3 million in damages, unless Stuart decides to drop his claim to it. Next!" And down came the gavel.

Bored, the judge eyed the lovely bottle of wine he had purchased for her. What had possessed him to give it to her, she'd never understand. Meh. This Kangaroo Court session was adjourned.

---

Aftermath, Butters Stotch:

"Aw, geez, Ken...I'm here if you want to talk about it, buddy."

Kenny had nodded sullenly, but Butters knew he was grateful, at least to have someone to speak to. The two of them had always understood each other better than most, being the only ones they knew with comparable family situations. Plus, ever since that fateful plane trip...well, they'd been better friends than most, too. And that counted for something, when you lived in the crazy town of South Park.

Butters was sitting in art class, thinking over the events he'd seen and heard over the past few weeks. According to Kenny, shortly after he and his family had gone to the Broflovskis, Mr. McCormick had claimed to have had an epiphany about his behavior and a sudden change of heart. None of them had believed it, and Kenny had been extra furious when he saw him. Surprisingly, it hadn't ended violently, as his old man seemed to have taken a level in either humility or deception.

Then, Kyle's dad had put up a shockingly mediocre defense for them, far below his usual abilities, and the judge had made that ridiculously unjust ruling in Kenny's father's favor before anyone could get a word in edgewise...

Mr. McCormick had dropped the damages he'd been awarded to "show that I've changed", but as Kenny pointed out in his slightly muffled speech, half of nothing is still nothing.

Long story short, after several loud confrontations, Kenny and his family were now back under one roof in the living hell of the McCormick household.

The thought really made him want to cry. His friend was miserable there, always in the middle of their drunken arguments, constantly worrying about his younger sister...

If you so much as whimper at school, Butters, Dad will hear about it. And you'll be grounded again, and you know what will happen then...

He shook his head to clear it.

Butters had always tried to be optimistic, to see the good in everyone; he had wanted to believe that Mr. McCormick's change was genuine, that his friend would soon have at least a somewhat better life, but even he could see that the man was scarcely trustworthy in that regard.

Well, he reasoned, if he actually does care, he'll eventually show it, one way or another, and if he doesn't, then...

His knuckles whitened.

Well, it would all happen one day, right?

One day, all of them, Stan and Kyle and Kenny and Eric and him, and all their siblings, would be free to live their lives.

And they'd get the hell out of this crazy town.

---

Aftermath, the Prince of Darkness:

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, BRO?! DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE?!"

He ignored the crying little girl in his office, his two-bit mind completely focused on the microaggressions he'd just witnessed. This demonic troll had called this slightly overweight girl PREGNANT, and put a dick in her mouth. Who DOES that?

"THAT PISSES ME OFF!" he screamed barbarically. Oh, how he wished he'd been allowed to continue the Safe Space program...

Heads would roll for this.

---

Aftermath, the Reader:

You encounter a mysterious hooded figure. His face strongly resembles that of a skeleton, and his rightmost eye is glowing a brilliant blue. He flashes a toothy grin at you.

"let's be honest, chances are, if you got to this point...you're just a dirty story skipper. BUT, if you made it, congrats. the end of your journey is finally at hand.

heya. it's me, the comic sans. so...you really like having a bad time, huh? i dont blame you. it can be pretty funny to watch from my viewpoint. even if it's a skele-ton of work to do. heh heh heh...it's always different each time. a little dark, huh?

...but really, even if I can't go back to how it was, it was worth it to come to the surface just for this. not only is it a hilarious way to help out, people learn my tricks eventually, so i need to experiment with new ones...just in case there's another reset. if it keeps THAT guy sober, it's for the better of us all.

you might be crazy, really optimistic, fascinated by bad times...or maybe you're just the really determined type. y'know, "those" people. because they "can", they "have to". they have to complete everything. 100%. whatever the reason, thanks.

that "determination" is a powerful gift, kid. just don't put it to evil uses, ok? i wouldn't want to have to face you one day.

welp, i dont have much else to say here. there's always more of my hilarious jokes to play. not that they're meaningless, but it's always funnier as a prank. i'll be heading back to my world, for now anyway.

i do want to tell you one thing, though...thanks for playing along. it was fun, kid, strange as it was. should give you a good reminder to avoid certain things if you're an author yourself, am I right? heh heh heh. well, see ya.

oh, and before i go, don't say i didn't warn you...

. . . T h i s w a s o n l y t h e p i l o t e p i s o d e."

His eyes grow dark. The lights flicker, and he vanishes.

 

THE END

 

NOTES

Curious about the many, many, MANY references and shout-outs in this story? I’ll be posting all of them along with the Archive of Our Own release of this story a month from now. Hope you had fun reading. :)