The End of Everything Forever
Page 90
“Well?” asked Queen Victoria XXX.
“Wrong colors,” said the scientist, “different faction.”
“Huh,” replied the clone. “I want to be surprised that there’s competing penguin terrorist groups, but, honestly, I’m just not.”
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE TWO
Then I Thought, There’s No Reason Why Multiple Things Couldn’t Be Named After the Same Person. I Mean, Look at Washington and Jefferson
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
“Better luck this time?” asked Queen Victoria XXX.
“Not for anyone involved.”
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE THREE
Of Course, Then I’d Be Comparing Dick Cheney to George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, and, Well, That Didn’t Seem Right
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
“Well?”
“Apparently this guy’s colors are more cerulean, and we’re looking for more of a powder blue.”
“Sif’s steely snatch,” grumbled the queen.
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE FOUR
I Mean, They All Had Their Faults, and, Obviously, Some Verrry Similar – and Highly Problematic – Issues When It Came to Respecting the Sanctity and Value of Human Life ...
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
Queen Victoria XXX raised an eyebrow.
The scientist shook her head.
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE FIVE
... but at Least the Founding Fathers Talked a Good Game, and Did Some Decent Things ...
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
“There’s a beak in your hair,” said Queen Victoria XXX, pointing without uncrossing her arms.
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE SIX
... Right?
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
“I don’t think that one was even a penguin,” she said.
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE SEVEN
Look, I, Uh, I Got a Little Off Track Here
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
“Are you planning on taking a shower at any point?” asked Queen Victoria XXX. She crinkled her nose. “You’re starting to smell.”
CHAPTER TEN, TAKE EIGHT
America?
Judy Lin exited the interrogation room covered in blood and tiny black feathers.
“OK, how about this time?” asked the queen.
“Well, she’s definitely the right terrorist organization.”
“Fucking finally,” she replied. “So, what did she have to say?”
“Honestly, it’s pretty hard to hear anything over the screaming.”
Queen Victoria XXX bit her lip and stared at the scientist. Then: “You know, I don’t even have a soul and this seems really wrong.”
“Yeah,” replied Judy, shaking gore from her hands. “The penguins aren’t big fans either.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fast-Forward
“Any luck talking to Dad?” asked Thor Odinson, cell phone on speaker as he sat on the curb outside Consolidated Phukital’s secret black ops torture facility.
“No such luck, brother,” said Jesus Christ.
“Well, that’s a bummer.”
“You’re telling me.”
A moment. Then Thor asked: “Wanna meet us for lunch?”
“Yeah, all right,” said the Prince of Peace. “Where –”
The god and the Son of God were at a diner, narrow and comfy, sitting down in a large booth overlooking the industrial parks of New West Ninth Street Northeast.
“How about here?” said Thor.
“Uh, yeah, OK, here’s –”
In less than the blink of an eye, the deific duo was joined by Queen Victoria XXX, Judy Lin, Artemis Agroterê, and Catherine the Great LXIX, all of them crowded into the same booth.
“You’re seeing this too, right?” asked Jesus. Then, mumbling, he added: “I really shouldn’t have smoked earlier.”
“When did you guys get here?” asked Thor.
“When did we get here?” echoed Queen Victoria XXX, looking around.
“And why are there dinosaurs outside?” asked Artemis, Greek Goddess of the Hunt, pointing her chin toward the window.
There were, indeed, dinosaurs outside. A pack of diplodocus diplodichied past the diner, the building rumbling as the massive beasts trudged slowly by, silverware rattling and waters spilling. A pair of eagle-sized rhamphorhynchus sailed over them, leathery wings spread, their throat pouches full and wriggling with their next meals.
There was also, it should be noted, a decided lack of city surrounding the rambling reptiles.
“Are we in Cretaceous Park?” asked Jesus.
“Nope,” said Judy, pulling up the map on her phone, “West New New York.”
“So, did they get loose from a carnival,” asked Catherine the Great LXIX, “or ...”
The diplodocus honked and scattered, stumbling and stampeding away as a ceratosaurus appeared next to the booth, just outside the window. The eight-foot-tall theropod lumbered forward, baring a mouth full of teeth like well-worn steak knives.
“My guess,” explained the scientist, “the diner just blinked back to the Jurassic era. Or the Jurassic era jumped around the diner. Either way, the black hole is clearly completely wrecking the space-time continuum right now.”
“Oh, man,” said Jesus, “this is gonna get a whole lot crazier, isn’t it?”
“Almost certain–”
“–ly!” Catherine the Great LXIX was shouting, slamming her mechanical fist against the table and lifting her Rubenesque frame from her seat. “We can’t just bend over and take it!”
“I don’t think any of us were suggesting that?” said Artemis, hands raised, steadying herself and unsure of a lot of things.
“I might have been?” conceded Thor.
“OK, but, for real? Or as a dirty joke?” asked Queen Victoria XXX.
The blonde man shrugged. “Kinda fifty-fifty there.”
“Maybe we should try to time how long it is in between jumps,” said Artemis, the lithe archer pulling a stopwatch from her antique leather satchel. “See if maybe there’s some kind of rhyme or reas–”
“– son!” shouted Thor. “Whoa, that was –”
“– balls,” said Queen Victoria XXX. “I mean, who doesn’t –”
“– shower?” said Judy, looking down at her remarkably unpenguinified clothes. “When did that happen? Did anyone see me –”
“– take a dump,” said Catherine the Great LXIX, scooching out of the booth. “Wait, I don’t have to poop. I – No, wait, I have to poop.” The cloned empress rushed toward the rear of the restaurant.
“Is it already three o’clock?” asked Artemis, looking at her phone.
“You know when she poops?” asked Queen Victoria XXX.
“Of course,” replied the Greek goddess. “You live with someone long enough, you notice these things. Are you telling me you don’t know when Thor –”
“– masturbates?” she concluded. “OK, even I don’t know what that one was.”
Everyone at the table looked at everyone else at the table, frozen, waiting for the next time jump and desperately not wanting to be the one who said “masturbates” for seemingly no reason.
They waited.
They waited some more.
Thor scratched his knee.
Jesus sipped his coffee.
They waited some more.
“Huh,” said Queen Victoria XXX.
“So much for that theory,” said Jesus.
Out of nowhere, Catherine the Great LXIX reappeared in the booth.
“I hope you washed your hands,” said Artemis.
“You and me both,” said the replicated Russian royal.
“Fuck it. Fuck this,” said Queen Victoria XXX, sh
aking her dark, wild head of hair. “I assume we’re all here to compare notes, right? Then let’s do it, let’s just –”
An empty plate of mozzarella sticks appeared in the center of the table. The dinosaurs outside had been replaced by sea monsters and giant squids, while the air had been replaced by murky water. The diner, thankfully, appeared to be fortified, pressurized, and rated for underwater occupation.
“God damn it!” yelled the queen, showering crumbs across the table.
“Which –” began Thor.
“Motherfucker!” concluded Thor, pulling a fork from his neck.
“Does anyone remember what we were talking about?” asked the clone. “Where we ended up, strategy-wise?”
“I seem to recall unrelenting doom,” said Artemis.
“Sounds right to me, sister,” seconded Jesus.
“That can’t be –”
“– right?”
“What other options do we –”
“– have?” asked the waitress, standing impatiently at the table’s edge.
“Eggs.”
“Bacon.”
“Pan–”
“– cakes? How would that even –”
“– work? Nah, I’ve just been –”
“– sick,” mumbled Catherine the Great LXIX, looking a little green. “‘scuse me.” She rushed to the bathroom once again.
Artemis grabbed the arm of a passing waiter.
“Have you guys been jumping through time haphazardly? Like, more than normal?”
“Thank you,” she said, letting go of him. Turning toward the rest of the table, she explained: “He said it hasn’t actually been that bad for them, other than the dinosaurs and fish monsters.”
“Then what the shit?” asked Queen Victoria XXX. “Why are all the time jumps seemingly concentrated right here, at this table?”
“Maybe the table’s magic, man,” offered Jesus Christ.
“Or maybe it’s ‘cause Jesus, Artemis, and me exist out of time, more or less?” answered Thor. “And we’re, y’know, superpowered? Plus, I went to space.”
“So did I,” said Catherine the Great LXIX, reappearing at the table. “Remember?”
“No,” answered the thunder god. “But, still. There we go. Maybe we’re, like, absorbing more of the space raviolis, or whatever they are. Space spaghetti?”
Judy Lin furrowed her brow. “Most of that was make-believe nonsense,” she scolded, “and the rest of it was pasta.” Then the scientist reversed both her eyebrows and her stance on the subject. “But, given what we’re dealing with –” She shrugged. “– sure. Why the hell not.”
The waitress arrived with their food.
The food was gone.
“I don’t like any part of this,” rumbled Thor.
The scenery outside of the window returned to that of a city. But not the city the sixsome was actually in. Well, OK, technically, it was the correct city, but not the correct time. The gods, the demigod, the clones, and the scientist were now sitting in Secaucus, New Jersey, five years earlier, before most of northern New Jersey was annexed by New New York, D.C. and relabeled as West New New York.
A redheaded woman in a plaid miniskirt and a Sex Pistols t-shirt walked past the window. A very familiar-looking redheaded woman.
“Bo!” gasped Thor and Queen Victoria XXX, simultaneously.
“You guys know h–”
They were already gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Once Upon A Time
Boudica IX, clone of the first-century Celtic warrior queen, friend of Queen Victoria XXX, and former girlfriend of Thor Odinson, was supposed to be dead. She had been impaled by an orc two years earlier while defending the city-state of Las Vegas from an onslaught of murderous monsters, devastating the aforementioned heroes, as well as straight-up ruining her then-husband, the current Benevolent Dictator of FARTSSS, William H. Taft XLII.
As one might imagine, seeing her alive again, wandering aimlessly through the streets and blissfully unaware of her impending tragedy, was kind of a kick in the nuts.
“Bo!” shouted Thor, racing after her. “Bo!”
The cloned queen turned. “Yes?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“It’s me!”
“Mario? You don’t look like an Italian plumber.”
“No, I’m ... I’m Thor, Norse God of –”
“That’s a weird name.”
“No, Bo, it’s me, Thor. Honeyballs. Sugarpubes. We ... we ...”
“There’s a bathroom in the Starbucks around the corner, weirdo.”
“I don’t – What? No, you and me, we were – we’re going to get together.”
“I kinda doubt that, buddy. You are waaay too jacked for my tastes.”
“Boudica!” called Queen Victoria XXX, rushing up behind the beefy Norseman.
“Vicky?” asked the redhead, tilting her head around the thunder god’s shoulder.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” replied Boudica IX. “What’re you doing here? You know this guy?”
“It’s a ...” She grimaced. “It’s a long story.”
“Is this because of Andy? Because, look, I didn’t know you two were a thing. And, in my defense, I didn’t really care either.”
“No, it’s not ... It’s just ... It’s really good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” echoed Thor.
“Uh, OK?” replied the redheaded woman. “Nice to see you too?”
“You don’t sound sure about that,” said the queen.
“Well, we kinda don’t have a great history ...”
“What are you –” said Queen Victoria XXX. “Oh. Ohhh. Right.”
“Yeah.”
“‘cause of the –”
“Yeah.”
“With the –”
“Yeah.”
“Right,” said the dark-haired queen, “sorry about that.”
The other queen shrugged. “No skin off my butt.”
“Actually there was a lot of skin off your butt.”
“Is that what that was?” asked Thor. “I thought maybe you went down a slide too fast or –”
“What?” roared Boudica IX. “How in the farts do –”
“Oh, OK, that makes sense,” finished the queen.
“Wait, for reals?” asked Queen Victoria XXX. “The black hole, the time jumps ... Thor explained that? Adequately?”
“Sure,” said Boudica IX, shrugging. “Space is weird.”
“Huh.” The other queen bit her lip. “OK, look, I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this or not,” explained the Hanoverian homunculus, “but you’re going to get stabbed in the chest by an orc while fighting a cave troll in Las Vegas, so ... maybe don’t do that. If you can help it.”
“Also,” added Thor, “Vicky’s going to murder you in a porn warehouse, but that’s kind of how you and I get together and, I don’t know –” He cleared his throat. “– I know it all fell apart but we ... we had a lot of fun while it lasted, so ... your call on whether or not you want to not die that time too.”
“OK, hold on, that’s ... that’s kind of a lot,” said Boudica IX, pulling out her phone and pulling up the Notepad app. “I die twice?”
“Yeah, but we’re going to used to know a guy who could fix that.”
“Up until he dies too,” added Queen Victoria XXX.
“Suuuper violently,” added the god.
“OK ...” said the Celtic clone, scrunching her face. “Can you be more specific, though? Are there, y’know, dates for any of this? ‘cause I already have a bunch of feuds with, like, a dozen clans of cave tr–”
The cityscape shifted again.
Boudica IX was gone.
Queen Victoria XXX and Thor Odinson were alone on the sidewalk. In the distance, the grey-green sky was stretching and spiraling, being pulled into the increasingly visible black hole like filthy, slow-moving toilet water.
“I wish that stupid fucking hole would just get things over with already,” gru
mbled the thunder god, glaring up. He began stomping back towards the diner, building rattling as he passed.
“I don’t,” quietly replied the clone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
(Do The) Mashed Potatoes
Thor Odinson entered the diner and found his friends right where he’d left them. As the door shut behind him, reality shuddered. Judy Lin was suddenly wearing a bag over her head again.
“Are you fucking ...” The woman wriggled beneath the burlap sack, trying to settle the eye holes. “Right,” she said, putting her hands on the table. “I’m out.”
“Good,” said the thunder god. “Let’s –”
He was sitting at the table again.
“This is the opposite of what I wanted to do.”
“Are we sure this diner isn’t haunted, man?” asked Jesus Christ.
“Honestly, anything’s an option at this point,” said Judy.
“Yeah?” said Artemis Agroterê. “Then there has to be something we can do to –”
Everyone was suddenly covered – covered – in mashed potatoes.
“There we go, apparently,” said the woman with the bag over her head.
“Uh ...” inquired the Greek goddess, looking at her potato-plastered hands.
“I second that ‘uh’ ...” seconded Catherine the Great LXIX, doing the same.
“I’m kind of surprised we didn’t do this earlier,” replied Judy.
“What?”
“You guys don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?” asked Jesus.
“Potatoes are space-time anomalies, existing outside of the generally accepted continuum,” explained the scientist, flinging smashed spuds as she gesticulated. “They operate under their own rules. That’s how come you can pull them from the ground and they keep growing.”
“So ...” asked Thor, “why are we wearing them?”
“To ... block the space raviolis?” offered Judy.