In the beginning, it was very dark. And cold. And full of lightning bugs. Without names. But they knew a guy. The guy knew a dog. The dog knew the lightning bugs. The lightning bugs knew the guy. The guy knew a song. It started in low...and it started to grow.... *musically*THE CHEAT IS NOT DEAD! MUAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHBASHAHA!! And I've captured all your bases! '][']-[3Ψ |2 8370|\|G 2 [V]3!!! OMG!! YA KNOW WHY? SO YOU, DEAR PATHETIC READER ARE UNDER MY SPELL OF SPAM!!! 0NE 0NE! Now let me tell you a story. There once was a trash can. It was a pretty unremarkable pear. What? No, it was never a trash can; shut up! We've always been at war with Brian Clevinger. Anyway, the fruitcake was pretty unremarkable. (7337, too, but we'll discuss that later.) No, what was remarkable wasn't the fax machine. It was what was above the macaroni. Above the trowel was a desk set. And it was flying. HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A FLYING DESK SET, MR. WHIPPLE?!!?? HUH!??! Good. Now that desk set was perfectly, ergonomically, and rudimentarily designed to fly. On that flying desk set, sitting in the cockpit, was a man . (Which made that desk set a hekuva large thing.) A man... WITH A NEW LAPTOP COMPUTER!! The computer was connected to reality. And reality was connected to the computer. And vice versa. You know what vice versa means? Well, we're still gonna show ya. Reality was also connected to the computer. And the computer was also connected to reality. Deep in their bowels, they felt a passion for each other. A lust. A yearning. A desire. A longing. A thirst. A covetousness. An itch. A hunger. An ache...of 10\/3. They stared deep into each other's metaphorical eyes, and slowly, gently, kissed. NOW IT'S TIME FOR A COMMERCIAL BREAK!!! OMG!! Are your toenails seriously annoying? Do they swear at you? Do they make violent threats to you at night? PH33R no longer! Vwaleswetchitane can help! Just take a few Vwaleswetchitane tablets out of the box. Dunk those Vwaleswetchitane tablets in a glass of water. Watch as they congeal to turn the liquid into a particularly disturbing shade of chartreuse. Then, stick your toes in the acid, and relax as your toes are dissolved in the most painful way ever envisioned by Mann. It sure beats annoying toenails! Let's see what our sponsor, I mean completely random guy, Illogic has to say. "Before I started using Vwaleswetchitane, my toenails were seriously annoying, swearing at me, and making violent threats to me at night! Now, with the help of Vwaleswetchitane tablets, it's like my toenails have been wiped from existence with a really big Q-Tip! Thanks, Vwaleswetchitane!" Oh, Illogic. You so 1337. And now, back to our previously scheduled massages! It is three millennia later. The computer and reality have still not told their parents that they are in love. But fate turns and deals them a hand without any high cards. "Oh, Compy! I...I think I'm pregnant!" "With what?" says Compy, wrinkling his monitor. "A baby universe! DuhXX0Rs!" The reaction of Mr. and Mrs Multiverse to this news was not pretty. It was slimy and smelly and kinda stung my eyes. They threw their daughter out in the cold, cold, metaphorical snow of Control-X. She gave birth there to her baby universe, alone, and friendless. But eventually she lost the will to exist. Marmosets tried to force-feed her, but they were utterly unsuccessful in this attempt. Reality died there, still alone, and still friendless, which really caused a problem for everybody living in her. Fortunately, there was a backup copy. Unfortunately, it hadn't been updated since, like, 1857. Fortunately, I switched to Geico. But Absol-lutely none of that is imported right now. What is is what was happening inside that baby universe. There was an explosion. Not like a pop. Or even a bang. Naw, I'm talkin' bout one hekuva, ginormus, egantic, big-#%#$ explosion. The force of the blast terrified the heck out of a strange little man named Sweaks. Sweaks was a [u]very[/u] little man. In fact, he was so freakin' miniscule that he lived in an atom. Which he thought was the universe. He washed his hands with water particles that were small enough to make theoretical physicists choke on their own drool. Inside the very water in which he washed his hands was an alien egg. A coffee-colored one. It flowed into his pores, and trickled into his bloodstream. There it migrated, through use of its GPS system, into his stomach, where it took root. And Grew... Until, one day, it POPPED OUT OF HIS CHEST!! "I'm dreadfully sorry about the mess, old bean," said the coffee-colored alien, sipping a cup of tea with its little pinkies, all three of them, up. "I'll have it all cleaned up in a jiffy. I just wanted to ask if you could have a few more eggs in your diet. I so enjoy the taste." "Sure," said Sweaks nervously. The alien then used his 7337 SKILLZ (TM) to repair the hole in Sweaks' chest, disappearing just as bloodily as he had come. Then and there, Sweaks went and bought two hundred eggs. Then he cooked one and swallowed it, shell and all. That egg had been laid by a 3+Triple Eggwitch hen with the rather cliche name of Henrietta. Now, most people didn't know it, but Henrietta had a secret life. She was, when duty called.... BEAKWOMAN, DEFENDER OF JUSTINE AND THE SIBERIAN HAY!!! It was one of those dutyesque days when Beakwoman met with Sir August Venemous Poe, Junior. He was a tall, tall, man with shoes that matched the color of his eyes. Invisible. "So, it has come to this, has it?" said SAVPJ to an entire swimming pool full of superheroes. He was, of course, standing in front of the lifeguard's station. "I assume you know- OWW!!" SAVPJ rubbed his head, having just bumped it on the ceiling. "As I was saying- OWW!" This time, a monkey, standing on the certified World's Biggest Stool (TM) had grabbed SAVPJ's head and banged it against the certified World's Hardest Brick (TM). "WHAT'S WITH THE MONKEY!?" he screamed. "He's my uncle," said Apelad. "And the comic relief." "Kid," SAVPJ insisted, "we don't need comic relief. This whole %^$#@ story is layers and layers of comic relief." "YOU'RE SO WRAPPED UP IN LAYERS, ONION BOY, THAT YOU'RE AFRAID OF YOUR OWN HEART!" accused Donkey Man. Everyone stared. "Sorry. That just felt right for some reason." "Can we move on?" asked SAVPJ dryly. "Ψ34|-|, 137'$," said 1337 [V]4|\| eagerly. "Okay. So, I called you all to my humble home so- OWW! GOD !^#$%!" This time, the monkey was making use of the World's Heaviest Two-Ton Weight (TM). "KEEL HEEM!!" shouted SAVPJ in what was probably the World's Worst Stereotypical Accent Ever (TM). Everybody chased the monkey around the building for two or three panels, and finally, they were able to drag him into the lobby, and forcibly remove him from the premises. They also had to drag and forcibly remove Apelad, who was clutching his uncle and sobbing, "MY PRECIOUS!!!" So, once again, everybody assembled in That One Big Swimming Pool Room (TM). SAVPJ began his speech again. "You're probably wondering why I called you all here. I asked you all to come here so we could-" "HAVE A SWIMSUIT COMPETITION!" shouted Beakwoman, leaping up in the air with propulsion that could only be acheived with the sheer power of Overexaggeration. "No offence, Beakwoman, but that's just wrong," said SAVPJ, scowling. "A chicken in a swimsuit? Blech, and don't get me started on what you'd look like in a bikini." "Ah," said Beakwoman in Elizebethan, "but mine is naught mortal flesh. It is divine, and so I mighte shape it as I wish! Behold, and let you of little faith look on in wonder!" She started glowing. Scripture Guy cheered. When the smoke cleared, SAVPJ beheld a vision of loveliness. She had long, velvety hair, upon which a crown of feathers was perched. Her shape was as beautiful as the day, and it was enough to make SAVPJ's little heart go pitter-pat. And if that wasn't enough... She wore the one bikini...TO RULE THEM ALL! It was love. SAVPJ and the reshaped Beakwoman looked into each other's eyes. SAVPJ felt connected to Beakwoman. Beakwoman felt connected to SAVPJ... Yeah, we did that already. Anyway, they began to whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears. "Nothing nothing nothing nothing," whispered Beakwoman. "Nothing nothing nothing nothing," whispered SAVPJ. They promptly called Snagger Outlaw, who emailed them a semi-legitimate marriage license. The superhero ensemble were so overjoyed that they broke into a rousing rendition of I Dreamed a Dream from Les Miserables. The curtain then fell with a loud FWUMP. The Puppetmaster picked up his puppets and placed them on top of his overlarge pointed green hat. That was quite a feat, considering the sheer amount of puppets he had. Little Billy and Little Susie stared. "That," stated Little Billy flatly, "was the weirdest puppet show ever." "Was it?" asked Puppetmaster Illie meekly, juggling his eyeballs. "Yeah. I don't even think there was much of a plot," Little Susie added. Illie cautioned them. "I can disprove anything you say, y'know." "Oh, really. How?" "Through the power of CONSUMER REVIEWS!!" the Puppetmaster cheered. He took out a nondescript rope. "Now rope, was that 1337, or was that 1337?" "That was 1337," said the rope, grinning. "QED." Illie told them. Now, unbeknownst to anybunny, there was a war going on between the atoms of that rope. It was called many names, such as the Apocalypse, Politics...but all heaven was breaking loose. And many fingers were watching the moon through endless amber spyglasses. And Brian Clevinger hugged Strong Bad, who was using his foot-long fangs to gnaw on the necks of pretty blonde Cold Ones. And Albuquerque was disemboweled by Eggplant Man- And red Frosties soared through the sky- And alligators sold their own knees- And life And death And pastrami rice- WERE ONE And then, ominously, a bell rang. It was a mundane bell. And that was freakin' scary. It told the Insane Ones, one thing, a horrible truth... Spam Day was OVER. Pretty much everyone popped out of existence. And a lone cinnamon roll floated into the void, carrying with it strange little bipeds, of which you... ARE ONE. FADE TO BLACK