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Inside Carlos

Chapter Text

The dedication at the start of this book, where it has been published, in the otherworld, by Toris Buckysbuttocks, reads:

 

My Dearest Levi

thank you so much

for everything.

Chapter Text

(Inside Carlos)
(he’s a man who i literally messed me up in a toilet seat in a car park. There was wheater. I cried for my mother. I at myself in a sandwhich. I AM dean winterchestnut I am I am I am the man I will eat you for breakfast inside a toilet hole in the bottom of the sea with a sixty-year old farmer who works in london. I was clean I swear. I hat on my head. I was dead mum but I am alive because the heat orb brought me back to life in cavement times. my cement mixer is losing its breath. but it is dying. She was a tennis player in da house wiv a brain to match my cousin, David, who was dying of toilet seat to the flod inside of you but he ate a dream and he was cured. Carlos is a cat’s best man at a wedding. he ate raw potatoes because he had two feet in the grave that is known as tumblr. A nice, clown, blanket, emo vetch –

boy falls down the stairs. he is half man, half shark, like his friend Victor who spends his whole life blowing up balloons and airbeds. then me in a banana crocodile (named Emily) came to save the day, at the same time as killing everyon.

A father of three visits Japan. he has sex with a tomato. He is a Pisces (but he is not a mountain). he pisses in his shoes, when he eats himself in a locker. A man called Ted walks by. (That is the only time I will talk about ted because I had sex with his friend Ellie on a hill in japan, where the virgin died and took an airplane to russia.

I do not want to get killed by a man called Sebastian. I will wait for the hat with a sword, on Pluto, who is nonbinary. I have sex with them [singular pronoun] because I AM a potato. I am the human arcanic incarnation of a man named Harold, who ass-ended into the sky with his favourite cookies and he could have possibly been with a woman. This was because he spoke to the toilet paper, and it told him about his failed marriage. he may have eaten me in France, becaus those backwards pensises ate me also. but in January they ate me out. I screamed, I called for my secretary, Yukiteru Amano from the popular anime show Mirai Nikki Minaj can you feel my heartbeat it’s blowing away, eatling WITH a jungle on a sunshiney day.

Four men take turns in eating a barber’s stool, who is called Toilet. This is where I met Carlos. I went to the toilet and he was there. he entered me and I was there. The lines also entered me, with a man whose soul ambition was to eat limes. he ate grated cheese on Thursdays. his name is greg. “Scrambled egg” said Sharon, who was the bar stool.

I need to eat some blankets that I bought whilst wearing a blue hat. I have super powers which allow me to put the universe in a bowl, pour milk on it, and eat it for breakfast. This all takes place in Ireland, whilst I was on holiday there. I met a girl there. She was NOT a cheese grinder who put snorkling videos on youtube which where only available is Reinsberg, Holland.

Everybody else ate potatoes as if they didn’t know what was wrong. A thirteen-year old boy, who may have been my son, Kataros, laughed at a comic drawn by Kylo Ren, who is the main character in Emily Brontë’s novel, Wuthering heights. In the book, he wears a bikini and eats dumplings. He needs to consume them for the sake of humanity.
My name will soon be Laura. I went to the oscars. It was the funnest thing I had ever seen in all my seven years of life. Dye your skin green, and you shall receive the fourth prize in the national Edam cheese competition. You will also receive a toaster, which gave birth to me on the Sun on February 12th, 1996, at 1pm Greenwich meantime.

I married a man who was a lizard. I might have been an eleven-year old toilet oppressor at the time, but I wasn’t going to give up. I ate lovely microwaved food for an hour and then, I became Ben Whishaw, who is an actor.

I want to toilet the woman who I might be in love with (da ba di da ba die,) who was only a toaster, and then she went and done a runner.

A man says, far in outer space, “I was OK. I wasn’t OK today, but I am now.” All is well. safely rest. You will perish along with the lemons, but fear not. There is an uprising in the mountains, being led by the ultimate Tomato “husband” Fucker, who I have now been married to for forty years. Our anniversary is the 17th September. It all happened on a Tuesday. The legendary Tomato Fucker was walking down the street, whistling the Downton Abbey theme tune. He is Japanese. He is the most beautiful tomato Fucker in the whole universe.
(This makes sense in Eurasia, which is commonly known as ‘the hybrid child of me and my friend, who is not a man called Carlos.)
He really wants to play Poe Dameron, a character in the series TV show snow on water, snow on snow. It was inspired by a poem that I read in 1995, before I was born.

I was born on the day that a rat came and sniffed me. My big ol’ Tomato Fucker was born in the summer of 1995. We met somewhere. In the end, it doesn’t even matter, which is why I’m going to play the piano at his funeral.
He is being buried with small fish fingers, which were caught of the coast of Wales. His name is greg. The whole world replied, “scrambled egg”. But it’s OK now.
Levi was there two. He has been my husband since the twelfth centuary, on the day a campsite, who was and is and will always be a world-famous male model. This is a role models, as it will be posted everywhere, including my old form room from secondary school.
It was very cold outside. I was in year eleven, and dead. (I am a vampire by the way.) I left the girl outside in the cold while I was inside drinking hot chocolate, which wasn’t logical because there…
…WAS hot chocolate in Scotland. I realise it now. I was all wrong. Anyway, my best friend said that I shouldn’t have don this, but I did it anyway and the memory still penetrates deep into my soul to this very day. I shut her out. Even though she was not a cat, nor did she own a fursuit. I am an evil person.
The ham sandwiches were coming to get me. I knew who I was, but I didn’t know anything about Wednesdays. This is why this happened: because it was probably a Wednesday on the day of this tragic occurrence.
Carlos was not there.
My name is accurate.
I am 100% sure of this, but alas, my birth certificate was in a draw at the top of the stairs, but I now know the reason for this: there were a lot of raisins upstairs, wearing swimming trunks, like it the poster of the four naked men (I am a potato, in case you haven’t forgotten), which is on my bedroom wall as I write this.

My name is Carlos. I was born on 31st November 1996, in the region of Bordeux, which is in France. A man travelled there once. His name was clark. He was a toothless man.

“His name is greg,” chanted the elders.
“scrambled egg” chanted their loyal and devoted followers.
They had spent a lifetime being devoted to the elders, all of whom, all thirty-three thousand of them, lived in a single tree on an island off the coast of Great Britain. They are all exactly six feet tall. Time is not a concept there. Levi visited there once, when he was a backpacker from the Lake District.
However, they did not want anything to do with him, not only because he is a short man, and they are all six feet tall, but because his name is greg. Scrambled egg.
–Not really, his name is actually Levi.
Anyway, the reason why the elders hated him was because he was related by marriage to the legendary, the one and only, Tomato Fucker. (I want you to know, that his name is a missnomer: he does not actually fuk tomatoes. He was once accused of being a fucking tomatoe, but his name is actually Greg (not really his name was to matoe Fucker, even though his uncle wanted to call him Greg, and have a lanyard around his neck, which says nothing except for the word “Greg”, which is why his mother loved him.)

Anyway, as I said before, the legendary Tomato Fucker was, in 1989, accused of fucking a tomato. However, it was only a tomato in concept, not an actual tomato. Due to the most unfortunate or happenings, a woman found out about the fact that he may have fucked off, as well as him having fucked a tomato.
So, in the end, this woman, whose name was Emily, decided that it was her destiny to kill Tomato Fucker.
This woman called Emily is not associated with the town of Gretna Green, which is in Scotland. And she was right: she WASN’T born in Scotland.
Only half of her was born in Scotland, and the other half was born when her mother, who was from the region of Bordeux, which is in France, and was NOT sexually frustrated because, ironically, she had literally, and I mean LITERALLY, just fucked a tomato. And I mean LITERALLY.
The tomato was seated on a desk in front of her, in a purple armchair. His name was Greg. Scrambled egg.
By the way, this all took place on top of Mount Fuji, which is in Japan. A little known fact is that Mount Fuji was NOT called Greg, he was NOT a scrambled egg. This only works if you eat fish and chips on the 20th April, 1996. A little known fact is that while I was eating fish and chips in Osaka, which is in Japan, the planet Mars had just exploded. However, my cousin whose name is David, put it back together with sellotape, glue, and a little bit of pizzaz. You go, David.
The extent of David’s genius can be fully realised when you take off your blue-coloured fucking hat and realise that no-one, not even ASTRONOMERS, noticed that the planet Mars had been stuck together with sellotape and glue (I must confess to you something terrible: there was actually 10kg of cardboard used in the reconstruction of the planet Mars, which is in Scotland, and this is, in the trial of life, a sin that cannot be forgiven. Oh well, what can you do?)
And, to top it all off, the whole time he was rebuilding the planet Mars, he was eating a wasabi-flavoured KitKat. I actually have one of those in the dining room in my house at the very moment that I am writing this down. (I AM IN PAIN.) (I AM A FLUTE. IN THE FOREST. ALL IS WELL. SAFELY REST. HIS NAME IS GREG. SCRAMBLED EGG.)

–Tell a lie, I actually have an APPLE-flavoured KitKat in my bag down stairs. As well as a blend of orange, lemon and lime KitKat; a green tea (茶 (I think)) flavoured KitKat, and fifty-nine pieces of chocolate. From that day forward, I will never be the same again. I am not the woman I used to be. But there’s no shadow hanging over me. I don’t believe in yesterday. I am free. Make us free のスプラシュ(きさねた?)(わかりますか。あれは、”フリイー”のテエム)(″ム″looks a bit like my friend’s nose. Well, it reminds me OF IT ANYWAY. Because it is pointy, like his nose. I love him. He is beautiful. He is the most beautiful man in the world. I know this because he won First Place in the Redfire 100, which is a chart, or ‘Top 100’ of the most beautiful men in the world.
Tonight, I will eat sushi with Levi, who is my favourite character in the anime, the name of which I can write in ひらがな、and is “しんげきのきよじん, known in this country as “Attack on Titan’. I first developed feelings for Levi on 27th May 2014, if the date on my blog, which is on Tumblr (a blogging website), is accurate.

Anyway, “what became of the legendary Tomato Fucker?”, you ask? Well, in the end, he was murdered by the woman named Emily, who I may or may not be in love with, and Emily’s weapon of choice was a sewing kit, which she threw at his head, killing him instantly. He is now in heaven, and all is well. I can love women now.
The evil is defeated.
His name is Greg.
Scrambled egg.

End of Part I

Chapter Text

OK, so this is the story of how I became a tofu dispenser (dumpster). DUMPLING!! (me. that me. I Am Me.)

                So the main character in this story is a Me, Mario. (Not really, my name is Toris). I live in a three-bedroom hairdresser, who works in law. In this house, there is a barrage of pretzels.

 

                On this particulate evening, me and my husband Levi had just made sweet, sweet love on the toilet seat. During the struggle, they will eat us, but we survived. This is the story of how Tomato ‘husband’ Fucker saved my life. He is also dead.

                Anyway, as we were making love, there was a song playing in the background. I think it was a song by Hatsune Miku, who is a vocaloid and also a character in the epic novel, Wuthering Heights. I had just finished listening to my favourite band, who is NOT a campsite, in Japan, and we had just flone back home. Levi wanted to pee, but I wanted to fuk, but in the end we came to a mutual agreement and I fucked him on the toilet seat.

                Then suddenly, a premonition came to me. It happened while Levi had his potato maid inside me. (It was my special name for his thingy). He was wearing a blue nightshirt with a wedding cake on it, by the way. I ffelt something epic inside of me. So strong. So smooth. Doge. Italy. Mask. True. Adult. Footballer. Wearing mask. On green field. My dad calls him on the phone. “Hello dad,” he says. “Hello son,” he replies. He is my twin brother, Carlos Aslow. Anyway, it could have just been a Bourbon, if I’m not mistaken. Bacon. Word assocication. He is my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.

                I live in this house with 2000 men, 200 women and 2 nonbinaries. (One of them resembles a campsite, but YOU have to guess which one!!!)

                So when I had this premonition, they all slowly came upstairs to where Levi still had his Mento trouser inside me. (He didn’t mind, in fact he liked it.)

                In the vision I saw, as if I was in the sinnyma with my legendary the Hat postman, I saw him!

 

                The one.

                The only:

                Tomato Fucker.

 

                He was in a dark room, and it could have been in London, somewhere (which is why that famer ta named Jaff (Jeff) works. He has a big nose.) A famous rapper called Kanye West was with him, in my dream, which I remember. I was there with him. They were eating noodles, and for some reason, Mr Tomato Fucker was drawn using a French art style, rather than a Japanese one, which is funny because he is Japanese and not French.

                In a past life, Tomato Fucker had one a competition entitled ‘World’s Biggest Nosie.’ (I was fuking his daughter, by the way (this is his second marriage, after a devorce at sunset in a sleeping bag). She is a beautiful lady called Annabelle and she had/still has, as far as I know, not many toes. She slept in a bucket. Her name was Greg.) I was so proud of my lovely Tomatoe Fucker for winning, and afterwards I let him sniff me. (My name is Greg, by the way. I am not dead.)

 

                He is my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.

 

                In the dream, which is also an apple pie band, he was in a car park, fighting tooth and nail for his friend, Emily, who had just killed him. But he was alive!!! Wahoo!!! (D I was diad. dead. I drwonwed in a leg. In the see. My bother watherd. I was dead. But he was happy. Because his friend was there. but I drwoned. I was ded. Ded. Long life the man. He is my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.

                (As I have mentioned before, I am a vampire who likes to wear lovely brownies and eat toilet paper in Scotland.)

                Tomato Fucker is extremely handsome, and he looks a small bit like my most trusted friend Rowan, who likes rock music. (He is also pansexual, like me.) We fucked once. There were stars in the sky. I cried for my mother, Toris Buckysbuttocks Senior, who lives in a caravan in Wales.)

                I have to tell you he (Tomato Fucker) is Japanese, otherwise an entire country, called Ed-ed, whose location is not known, will eat me for breakfast with egg and chips.

                Oh well.

 

                EMPATHY cried the elders, in space, with my son’s father. His name is bob. at least That’s what the person told me, anyway.

 

                “Here we go again,” I said optimistically, as I fucked my hand (even though I am a girl.)

 

                There was also a ferris wheel, lights, orbs, potatoes, and shaghetti (green spaghetti, so called because everyone wants to fuk it.) I think this was in bed, if I’m not mistaken.

                In the palondale egg’s house, to be more surprised (he is also my husband, who visits me from time to time). I don’t know how it was in to be ded, but everyone in dh in shoes (shoes) shoes (shoes) shoes (shoes)  knos where I goes my toes my nose my body is on the laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalalalaaalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalalalaaaaaaa.

               

                But I DID use conditioner!!!!!!!!!

 

                I know m

 

                men

 

                Then Thousand

 

                Them Tho

 

                Them

 

                They

               

                Me

 

                AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

 

                (I’m getting tired.

                I’m going to bed.)

 

 

                OK.

 

                I awoke in a clod shed.

                Instantly I slid out of Levi and went to phone my cousin, David. (Levi didn’t mind, by the way, because he only gone and fuked Mento Man. who is his best friend.)

                “Hello” said David.

                “Heyup” I said, because I was half Lppan, half Verrutkan.

                I sweated, so I took of my jumper, and put it on the floor, next to my blue jeans, white shirt, walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn, it was like, my ex-boyfriend,

                Too short

                You’re so fresh to death and sick of cancer he was wea – no, you were sorta punk rock, I grew up on ‘ip hop, but you fit me better than my favourite sweater (LEVI!!!) and I know that love is mean (peanuts) and love hurts (flower pot) but I still remember that day we met in December (LEVI!!!’s birthday!!!) oh baby (Levi)

                I will love you til the end of time, (Levi)

                I will wait a million years (Levi, Levi)

                Promise you’ll remember that you’re mine (of COURSE he will!!)

                Love you not more than everyone else because I’m polyamorous, unless they treated you wrongly, then of course I love you more. This is a form of Dada art, by the way. Not Dad. My dad is next door. I meant Dada, which is a type of nonsense-art, but it is very good. I want to go to the library soon and buy – no, borrow some books, on Dada, and The Walking Dead. (“sorry Hatter, I don’t want to spoil it for you, she said, to the cosplayers.” “sorry, but not sorry”. (that is a sentence often used on the blogging website Tumblr.)) <- continuity of the brackets.

                This essay (or symphony; or work of literature; or piece of music; can best best enjoyed whilst eating popcorn, on the computer, In Lppa, with the Empress of Lppa, Cathy Kyarho, who used to be called Vercaffre, and had three sisters who she made up, but now the universe has altered and her name is Cathy, which was her real name all along. She altered the universe with the help of her friend, Mars Palomer, an MRA drag-king, who likes to read the works of Sigmond Freud. I learned about Sigmund Freud in my year-12 psychology class. His name was greg (that is a song that my friend, who was, sang all the time, with my other friend, who was very tall, and not a Driver, playing a funky rhythm on guitar. It was amazing, like in the movie High School Musical, which unfortunately I have never seen. I hated it as an eleven-year-old in year 7, because it was too American, but from the reviews I have seen on tumblr, which is A blogging website, I just remembered Frasier Crane. Oh, from the reviews I have seen on tumblr, which is a blogging website on the internet, which was created when I was a baby (or so my father, who is on top of the mountain, told me when I was 12 years old an afraid that the Large Hadron Collider, the Higgs-Boson experiment, I am putting things to bed in my mind (concepts, not men or women lol – by the way I think, I think, I might just be a litt pansexual. I don’t know. I don’t like the word as I write this. But maybe in the future I will like it. There are lots of influential people who are pansexual, such as Audrey, who was the only person in the world before the Vision who liked me for who I am. Maybe, if she had kissed me on the cheek like Levi did when I first me him, I would have been OK. But I couldn’t do it, because I was a kid and afraid of burning in Hell. I changed my name to cathy because that is what my dad used to call me when I was a baby, and I love my dad and want him to be happy, and also the abbreviated name of Catherine Earnshaw, the main character in Emily Brontë’s novel, Wuthering Heights, and that is why my mum named me, and I love my mum and want her to be happy. I have always loved my mum, and my dad, ever since I was a child. Despite them making mistakes, which everyone including me does, they loved me, they didn’t completely understand me, unlike a combination of Levi Ackerman, cosplay and Carlos would do (if I hope this essay makes sense, which at this point in time, doesn’t, but will make sense in the future, like Van Gogh, who was a Dutch artist, but no) <- I don’t mean my dad isn’t Van Gogh, because he is a very nice man, he graduated from Cambridge University was only eight years old – he was only 19 when he studied for a PhD, in Joint Honours Psychology and English Literature. (like me, I am 19 now. 19 is a good age, like the fictional character Toris Laurinaitis, whom my fictional mother in the epic symphonyesque-Dada-art-music-composition-portfolio-advernture-story Inside Carlos, which reminds me of the novel Air Chrysalis, which is a novel mentioned in my favourite book, IQ84,  whose name written in Hiragana, or ひらがな (one of the three Japanese alphabets – the other two, being Katakana (カタカナ)and Kanji (漢字). The kanji on the left in the Japanese word for Kanji, which is いあっしI accidentally rn turned up the volume on the computer im sorry im so sorry ritsu sohma is a character in the popular manga series Fruits Basket, who some people interpret them as Transgender. See, I can use gender-neutral pronouns in my SLEEP now. Take THAT, people who hate me!

 

                Anyway, I called up my cousin David on the phone. He somehow is a combination of Damien Kohl, who is a fictional character in Cairo Phillip’s manga, novel, and movie adaptation of The Deciever, as well as the sequel known in English as The Rossiter Problem, and Davy Prentiss, who is a fictional character in a novel by Patrick Ness, who is my favourite author, and shares his first name with the 2nd Doctor in the TV series Doctor Who, who also shares 99% (I fiddle with the calculator, I can do complex maths now, which I couldn’t do when I was younger. and sick with depression. and loneliness. and as a result of this, combined with autism, social anxiety.

                ANywaaaaayyy,

                “Hello” said David.

                “Heyup” I said (because I ham half egg, half ded. By the way, I forgot to mention it before, but sometimes on Fridays lover-boy (that’s Levi) lets me let him turn himself into an egg and I fuk him, I mean FUK him.)

                “Dave, listen. Im dead.” I said

                “OK, my name is not Toris. That is you.”

                “That me.” I said. I was told not to by my father in outer space, but I died. So, I could care for my son’s father, Shino Gyamon, who was born Shino Gammon, then changed to Heath, then Dessa Phinaiyto (I do not know the son of love), which actually was a really depressing name, so I changed it back to the name his biological father, Phina Gammon, whos name in my universe (not Phinn) i

 

                I

                I got destracted there. I am sorry.

                I dsometimes get sted destructed by things, like cats, or other people talking to me. this happens sometimes. Also, my typing is difficult, as my muscles are still in the reaches of the Ocean of Carlos Buckysbuttocks. He is my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.

                No, he is not a drug. HE is a MAN. (Ritsu!!!!!! (or not, depending on who you are and how you interpret his/her/their character).

                My mother, Toris Buckysbuttocks Senior, who lives in a Caravan in Wales, came home and will come home son. soon. soon son. soon. I l

                I told her about Tomato Fucker, and the life he had been living. She had absolutely no clue what I was talking about, and knew certainly that some combination of drugs and novel-reading had been eaten by me.

                I told her about how he was back from the dead, in this universe, here, right now, with me, in the new Empire of Lppa, Anfispera Piqéli, sadness and misunderstanding on both parties, and she told me, basically, in her own words, to fuck off.

                So I did.

                I fucked off.

                To Japan.

                Where I found him.

                I found Tomato fucker!!

                (he was under the sofa!)

                (yay!)

                He

                I went to his house. I knew ehere where it was, because I am the legendary Toris Buckysbuttocks, who unfortunately is connected with her twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks, who lives in the newly-discovered nation of West Drèma. Dante is a ginger man/boy, who is he is he Carlos was named after. He can fly and always carries a gun, a lock pick, and a nice niiiiiicce chest

                anyway.

                I went to Tomato Fucker’s house, which was quite small, which I thought was wrong for an elleged tomateo tomato-fucker. He om opened the door, with a smile on this his face and a big, BIIIIIIIIIIIG nose, long silky black hair, and brown eyes. His deep voice is a rich baritone, as the green peas once e described.

                He was wearn dose jogging banc pants and tshirt that was khaki-coloured (like the one love itself man human man who I knew personally as a friend in real life, not in) trousers. No, a ‘T’-shirt, shaped the like like a liter Capital (ben) letter ‘T’, his name was NOT greg, it was Tomato Fucker!!!

                Poe Dameron.

                l

                lawnmower laldmowev mi lawn movwer must… must… fuk it.

                d

                lawnmower.

                Anyway, he was looking FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT wiv his bulging  muscles, an exactly seten seven-foot tall Japanese man who nice. He had bulging muscles. All he ever did in life, was sleep, fuck, and do yoga.

                Anyway, he had yoga mats all over the place. on the floor, on the stairs, on the slide which his daughter Annabelle used to play on when she was a little girl, in the loft, in heaven itself, on the slide, on the swings, in the Toilet. on his head.

                Anyway, we slept, fukt, and done did some of dat sweeeeeeeeeeeeet yoga.

                This is a typing aid.

                This is a word document.

                I type my story innit, like fukate er ruk fukada tomateo fucker in story 1Q84 by my favourite author, who is not patrick and also patrick, Wuthering Heights. No, a p

                No,

                anyway.

                <

                <

                j

                b

                The then, after we had dome some of dat sweeeeeeeeeeeeet yOGA, we daned.

                Danced.

                But then, while we were dancing, to a beautiful song by a man

                a german man

                a

                this is so my fingers do not hurt. i have a blister on my finger and i can’t afford to lose another one of my fingers to the dead. ihe infection sttaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars han solo im riding sol

JJASON DERULOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO               

                But then, I told him about why wh was he dead and then alive?

                “I am like Gandalf” he replied, in his rich, sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet baritone.

                “His name is Greg.

I replied.

                “Scrambled

                “I was dead, but I came back because I have not fulfilled my purpose yet. This is often why the authors kill of their characters and then bring them back from the dead, because their purposes are not fulfilled and also it is a good writing technique to build suspense on the part of the reader. pe

                nis

                and I am alive now. You saw me in a car part, on my own, on the toilet, taking a shit. That was a good thing, and I am sure I aroused you greatly. (I don’t mind that, by the way, because I am the fucking tomato fucker who fucking ROSE FROM THE GRAVE to beat up that l-

                I am because I shit because I shit because I love you. I shit and shat myself because I love you. I am also a masochist. Well well, then. Let’s tell abou t dis stuff den.

                Well, did youknow know, there is  A a FUCKING lawnmower. He’s not in love wi he’s a RACIST, p h h hhhbt on oh no sorry I farter fater farter farted.” Said Tomato Fucker, while we were Fucking by the swimming pool in the conservatory (even those hi though his house, unlike his penis, is TINY.) he will give me a son in the future, called Kataros. dat is a sick ne m man. (He farted because I was pleasuring him so much, he lost control of his bladder, pissed inside me, and farted in the swimming pool. However, it was his swimming pool on his land that he owned, so he can do what he likes. Whateverr the FUCK he likes, Paull!!!! I h But I didn’t mind him farting during our lovemaking. If anything, it improved the mood, made the water somehow warmer, and made me orgasm. We went in for round two, while he talked about

                fuck

                the lawnmower.

                “Anyway, there is a FUCKING lawnmower, who has started KILLING dumplings. He MUST be stopped. Only you can help me, Toris. Because you are special. Like in the song by your favourite band, Muse, “whatever they say, your soul’s unbreakable.” then together, me an you,

                we must k fight him. to save the world. to save your soul. the world has been made much better because of Levi, your husband, who has found true love in you, Toris. As have I. Because so many people love you, and you are YOU, not anyone else, YOU must save the world. with ME. and then afterwards, we can have a threesome – me, you, and levi. It will be lit fam. man. toris. whatever teh fuk ya name is, ya dirty slut. whore. i mean in a good way, not a misogynistic way. fuck me, you whore. ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhh yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh”

“aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” i cried as I orgasmed into his penis. there was piss inside me as well (his piss), which only surved to ru turn me on even more.

                “Even when this vision passes, I will still love you, forever, Like me, like levi, like all of your 2000 male lovers, 200 female lovers, and 2 nonbinary lovers, we will always love you. Because you are you.

                You MUST eat popcorn with POE DAMERON tonight. That is all I ask. Then you must shit yourself in the toilet all night long. That is ALL I ask. Now fuk me, ya

                sul

slut

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” he said as he came into my loving body. all of him, i loved all of him, forever. polyamoury is when you’re love cannot be contained in only one body of another person. you love so much, that you love many, unlimited, many, poly, other people. it simple, really. simple, unlike this euphoric lovescene which me and Tomato Fucker were engaged in, which was as beautiful and many-faceted as myself.

                “don’t kill me.” I cried in euphoric rapture, as Tomato Fucker fucked me as if I were the Tomato in his name, which he did not actually fuk but yeah, long story.

                “i wont” Tomato Fucker exclaimed back, in as much rapture as levi was, back home, with Poe Dameron. levis getting laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiid ohhhhh yeeeeeeeeeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

                “You have a lovely vocabulary, Toris. I am not called Paul. I am Tomato Fucker.”

                “Yes, I know, love” I whispered as I CAM came into him.

                “I am the F man you will fuck when you grow up.”

                “OK.”

                “y

                “I am nineteen now, do you mean when I’m older?”

                “Yes. I don’t know how much older , but yeah.”

                “I’m nineteen, and I am an adult. I can legally drink in england. Do you want to go down to da pub? man?????”

                “My keyboard is solid.” I moaned into his neck.

                “OK. well we can do something about that. would you like to go into the massage parlour while we tou

                “I DID NOT TAKE ILLEAGL dregs man I an full of love. I am mentally stalbe. I would not do that. they wre only medication for a finger infection which backfired.”

                “Good. well, that’s nice to no” he mon moaned into the side of my left buttock. i have HOT buttocks man!!!!!!!!!!! “shall we go to da FUCKING massage parlou orn not???? slut?????

                “Yep.” I moaned enthusiactically, with a strong touch of eroticism.

                “Tomato Fucker.”

                “Yep.” (he sed dis as we were walking into da massage parlour.)

                “I forgot.” i sed.

                “OK.” he replied.

                “Fuck.”

                “What.”

                “I LEFT THE LEMON JIOCE JUICE IN THE FUCKING OVEN!!!”

                “nO toris, it’s all right.” he said calmly. “levi has taken care of it. you’re forgetting because of this beautiful vision you are experiencing of fucking the lawnmower, but you CAN’T fuck the lawnmower, because the universe has not aligned properly yet. it will in time, do. fuk.

                “Because the lawnmower doesn’t believe in immigration.

                I know this because we were in a pub once, together, -

                “where is my pencil case?”

                “i don’t know. we were in a pub together, it was snowing, i cried for my mother, mu , mum,, mu……. anyway we was wa in the pub playing Mario Cart on the Nitendo Wii. I was, and still am, Japanese. And he is, and still am, a Twa mto mmmmmmmmmmmuuuuuuuum why did you

                (a twat)”

                “are you still sad about your mother’s passing, tomato fucker?”

                “yes. she died when i was only a little boy. not concerned about legislations or liablilty or Health&Safety. or fish und shi chips, but that was actually a bad thing, becc because when i came over to england from Japan the first thing I ever ate were find u fu – fish nd chips, and it was lit fam. I de I … maaaaaaaaaaaann i love fish and chips.” he said. “sie en das fish en wei en si chips” he said in german.

                Fish

                n fukin

                chipsssss!!!

                i was filled with ecstacy at the prospect at eating fish and chips with mister tomatoe fucker.

                I went to the phone, ordered fish and chips, and then put the phone down. This is how they do things in the newly-discovered kingdom of West Drèma.

                I need to write this so that I get it all out of my sytem st system.

                I, am a penguin.

                My name is Toris. I am nineteen-and-a-half years old. I play the piano. I like men, and some women. of course, for i, is Toris. i am she. she is

                …a FUCKING tomato.

                anyway.

                after we had eaten dose FUCKING fish and dose FUCKING chips, we made out violently on my bed, which my mum was angry at buck bucky but FUCK, i closed the door.

                3 days later, I had stopped taking drugs. I was clean, and only used antibiotic cream for purposes of healing my ninth finger, which i nearly lost to the black plague in 1665.

                i love that finger so much. it reminds me of levi. which is why i stick it in my finger when we can’t fuk because he is on a business trip. wearing a FUCKING suit with a FUCKING tie with FUCKING pink lingerie underneath (only I know about the lingerie, by the way ;) ).

                so yeah, i can’t afford to lose that finger. wait – it is actually the OTHER finger, not the one that looks like Levi, who is a character in the novel, Wuthering Heights.

                I performed for nine hours at a recital, nine of which were in German. actually, now that I think abou tit, it was lit fam, and it was also SIX hours of German, and NOT nein (lol, I mean nine – get it??? cuz it’s in GERMAN????) but in the three hours in which it was in Lppan, my home language, which my father’s family taught me from birth,

                TOMATO FUCKER walked in again and saw me. we fucked on the stage. but the people in the audience thought it was OK, because they just thought it was part of the performance.

                “Do NOT listen to your ipod.” tomatoe whispered into my ear. “he said it was for your own good, fucking toris.”

                he then orgasm. “yo KINK y yyyyy  FUCK.” he moaned in a Northern Accent.

                i had no idea why he or how he was speaking in a Northern Accent, because he had lived in Japan all his life before I came over there on holiday and we met and we FUKT in a bad man hotel. often Japanese, as a language, is hard to translate into English because English is such a different language. So, if Tomatoe Fucker was speaking in a Northern Accent, that must mean he is a philologal genius. Then I said. “Who said. That. Fucking Toris.”

                “No, I am fucking Toris, who is YOU. YOU are toris, and I am fucking you. get it fucking write, you dirt-fucking slut.”

                “Does that mean you are dirt, then?” I giggled into his neck as I gave him a MASSIVE lovebite, an act which unfortunately was dampened by the fact that I wore braces.

                “Whatever. fuck. go to the FUCKING toilet toris. go FUCK yourself in the toilet, and then go out and FUCK ME. anyway. there was a man who told me. a man you have known all your life. he raised you when your mother was out buying milk, and when your father was out buying Mentos. his name…” and he licked my neck with for dramatic effect, “is Erwin.”

                *gasp* “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN fuck.” I screeched at the top of my oversized, half-Lppan, half-Verrutkan lungs as i came spectacularly, resembling an owl in mid-orgasm. i came into tomato fucker’s trousers, and i knew, i just KNEW i would have to wash them out tomorrow, in the washing machine. because mister tomatoe fucker over here can NOT do laungry. that is his ONE fucking weakness. oh yeah FUCK.

                “yep. oi knew yud like dat.” he sed in a Northern Accent.

                anyway.

                “ye need te speek te him. im man. im bad. Nooooo what im ded no wait im alive sorry torris I just forgot, like, my whole life, but yeah, carry on – oh yeah, it was me who was talking, right? oh so sorry im me, you know me lol, i forget. but sorreh. yeh. im okeh now. sorry.”

                I clicked the “save” button on my cum(get it?)puter like it was a FUCKING levi. and then i asked him to tek me te Erwin.

                so he did.

                and we found him

                of all places

                in tomato fucker’s house

                doing the FUCKING laundry.

                what. the fuck. man.

 

                As soon as I got over my dizziness of raging, young-adult hormones, I SCREAMED at Erwin, “wash those FUCKING trousers on my lover’s FUCKING legs. do it fucking NOW. THEN, i want you to eat me out, in that FUCKING washing machine in which I have washed all of this man over here’s FUCKING clothes every FUCKING day for the rest of my FUCKING life!!!”

                however, it had been years since i had first met erwin-man, and so he was a little overwhelmed by my sudden outburst of a combination of anger, frustration, disappointment, rage, anger, frustration, and sexual desire.

                i remembered ellie, the girl who took my viginity four days before my eighteenth birthday. i cried for my mother.

                erwin saw me crying and took me in his arms. he is a lovely, handsome, intelligent, middle-aged man. he kissed my cheek, the way levi had done when i first met him, my second real love-at-first-sight encounter, (my first being that FUCKING campsite), and he said, erwin said, “please toris, forgive me. i misunderstood, im sorry. paul is an idiot. i am an ok man, because i am erwin.”

                “so..” i said once i had cheered up, maybe as a result of erwin enormous but gentle snek brushing mah thigh. “that gud.”

                “OK.” Erwin perked up, and announced to the whole room: the kitchen, the salad spinner, that FUCKING washing machine (calm down, ok, ok, im sorry, im fine, its ok, sorry.) where were we? oh yeah. “What information on this young Miss Toris’s mental health have you got for me, Mister Tomatoe Fucker?”

                “Well,” mister tomatoe Fucker said, with a hint of mischief in this voice, almost as if he were the Norse God, Loki, who is a character in the 300-page epic novel, Wuthering Heights.

                His name is gre- no fucking STOP it ive had eFUCKINGnough stop you it FUCKING writer of this FUCKING book, or I WILL kill you. but in a FUCKING good way. Im gonna fuck you, in your loft, having sex, making love, f/f, woman x woman, yaoi- I mean YURI, FUCKING toris i will FUCKING kill you if you say that FUCKING “his name is greg” one more FUCKING time.

                “I’m sorry.” said the author.

                “Fine.” the author- i mean the main character in this story, miss Toris Buckysbuttocks, replied crossly, still not quite over it.

                I stroked her hair. she michievsouly bit my hand. “fuck you, you dirty slut. i will fuck a man COSPLAYING, not the ACTUAL, erwin smith if you do “htat one more fucking time i will fucking hurt you. you fucking doughnut. what the fuck. what the ACTUAL fuck. i will FUCKING kill you, with a FUCKING sword, in the Yorkshire FUCKING moors, which featured in the FUCKING EPIC novel FUCKING wuthering heights BIOTCCCCCCCCHHHHHH.”

                “here, have some popcorn,” said Poe Dameron, who is a very handsome man, who is also very nice. he is friends with my friends. he is calm. i AM a fucking dirty toilet fucker.

                anyway, the author thought, as she was now overcoming her lifelong sense of m

                anyway, the author ate the popcorn. she smiled. and sighed. into poe dameron’s lap. he stroked her hair. a single tear of joy rolled down his cheek. she purred like a fucking levi in a fucking cat’s body.

                he is a clam, he is so fucking calm. the author of this book is so FUCKING wet.

                “don’t take any more FUCKING drugs, toris.” poe dameron gently whispered into the author’s beautiful, thick, luscious, golden, fucking, hair.

                “it’s ok.” the author whispered calmly. “i promise you, i will not take any more fucking drugs, as shure 57 microphone (the best microphone EVER made, according to my father, whose name is dad.), poe fucking dameron, of the fucking rebel bass guitar in FUCKING star wars. im sorry.” She cleared her throat. “You see, I am a musician, my FUCKING dear poe.” she whispered intimately, with love in her voice. the way she whispered his name, in a beautiful, pure, english accent, made his limp fish finger rise out of the void, for the first time in what could have been months. “And I am so FUCKING beautiful, i would even fuck MYSELF, because i a fucking HOT piece of ass.” she, the fucking toris of fucking buckysbuttocks, who is nineteen years FUCKING old and from FUCKIGN england, whispered tremendously, gloriously into his beautiful, Guatemalan ear.

                “ACTING!!!!”, called kylo ren, who had been in the kitchen making tea with his and poe’s best friend finn the stormtrooper, and had not wanted to intrude until he could resist his lover(toris)’s rapturous murmurs no longer, when he knew, in two days time, he would be balls deep in a FUCKING toris. he spoke these words in a quite voice that shook with emotion. his name was*toris clenches her beautiful, otherworldly fist around my neck. i cry for my mother. i am in france, on that FUCKING campsite. eating FUCKING potatoes. oh well.*kylo ren.

                i ate kylo ren’s ass. Why? because i am FUCKING toris FUCKING buckysbuttocks who is a fucking HOT MESS in kylo ren’s FUCKING bedroom, with all those FUCKING posters of Darth Vader, and all those FUCKING… black clothes all over the floor because kylo fucking ren doesn’t do his FUCKING LAUNDRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! URRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGAGAGAGAAAAAAAAAAAAUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.!!!” I screamed, in a heavy-metal style of singing, that was very good, and admired by my friend the hat, who is lit fam. fucking hat. fucking beautiful. fuck.

                I shook with a deep-cutting, life-threatening, glass-shattering rage. my fucking face nearly fell off, i was so fucking fucked up by the fucking of kylo ren’s fucking beautiful, fucking SCULPTED, fucking-ass (that is the ass he uses for fucking, by the way. his regular ass is locked up in a safe, in his wardrobe inside one of his many hand-built chests of drawers, built for him by my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.) Anyway, I was so distracted by my fucking of kylo ren in my own bedroom that (oh yeah, I drank iced tea out of his ass, by the way. in case you wanted to know. wow. im a fukin madman. (although i’m actually a woman.)

                Suddenly Kylo Ren came in my beautiful, pink-with-white-frills, knickers (or underpants, as they used to call them in America, before my entire universe imploded by fucking kylo ren in fucking stockings and fucking suspenders.), as the evil, all-powerful, legendary, rapture-enducing TOMATO FUCKER bursts into the room, wearing a cowboy hat and carrying a crossbow, an image which could have been inspired by the character by the name of Rick Grimes, who I think, according to the fucking epic the Hat, is a character in the popular TV show, The Walking Dead, which is featured in the 900-page epic novel of spectacular proportions, Wuthering Heights.

                I was

                NOW, said Kylo Ren and Mr Tomatoe Fucker, in unison, their voices completely joined in all of time and space, all across the world, the villages go by like dreams, the rivers and the hills, the forests and the streams, ARE YOU READY… TO FACE… THE LAWNMOWER????

                I screamed at the top of my throat, in pure ecstasy, like a heavy metal vocalist who has drank WAY too much Pepsi, who has just saved a document in the future in the future in the future in the future Franz Kafka in the future for future reference in the future when I getter better from my horrendous finger infection, on the popular fanfiction website, ‘AO3’.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA was what it sounded like, the only sound I could hear, in my head, in space, in time, in my head, in my bed, with thread, fucking kylo ren, tying him up, with thread, on KYLO FUCKING REN.

                WE HAVE ENTERED THE VOID.

                WE HAVE FUCKED IN THE VOID.

                WE HAVE ENTERED THE TOILET IN THE VOID.

                WE HAVE SHAT IN THE TOILET IN THE VOID.

                WE HAVE SHAT ALL AT THE SAME TIME IN THE VOID.

                ALL OF US.

                IN THE VOID.

                KYLO REN IN THE VOID.

                FUCKING TORIS IN THE VOID.

                FUCKING TOM-A-TO FUCKER IN THE VOID.

                FUCKING ME.

                THE FUCKING HAT.

                MY FUCKING SOUL.

                MY FUCKING CAT.

                THE FUCKING DUCK.

                THE FUCKING FUCK.

                davy pretzel

                .

                I came too in a bleak landscape surrounded by landscaped surrounded by grass. and mountains. and fucking toilet paper. mountains. fuck. toilet paper.

                “OK.” I said to myself. “This, is the entirety of my mind, my soul, and I know this because there is lots of toilet paper around. This could be the indication that the Lawnmower is near. who is a fucking toilet paper fucker, but fucking no. he is lower than fucking toilet paper. he is a fucking racist who doesn’t agree with many of the policies that are supported by human morals. but he is not human. he is a FUCKING lawnmower. that is why there is so much toilet paper around. FUCKING HELL, i thought to myself, i have transcended humanity, through the void, through kylo ren’s butthole, into the entirety of The Lord of the Rings. i gotta fuk this lawnmower now, i sed to meself, i gotta fek it. noice. man. fek. The Lord of the Rings.

                I am an ADULT, i sed to meself, i am a FUCKING adult, i fuck 2000 men, 200 women, and 2 nonbinaries, on a daily basis, so I can FUCKING do this.

                Damien Kohl.

                Damien Kohl.

                Damien Ko-ko-ko-ko-ko-kokokokokokookookokokokok(,)kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

                k.

 

                [Pause.]

 

                D-D-D-D-D-DROP THE BASS (BASS)

                An epic tune of music, heat tropical drop techno, as was called, was playing over me while I fucked that FUCKING lawnmower. he is laughing as he reads this. in a chair. in the future future in the future in the future in the future in the future in the past in the future in the

                WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

 

 

(drop dat fekin bass man.)

 

 

 

 

                i wake up.

 

                it’s dark.

 

                i’m crying.

 

                i am related to a man called Todd.

 

                the father of three, who has visited – no; was BORN in Japan,    wait

 

                no

               

                me

                i am

 

                …

                …

                …

                …… (IM A GOOFY GOOBER! *epic guitar solo*)

                …

                Toris Fucking Buckysbuttocks. Of the popular fanfiction website, knows affectionately by its fans as ‘AO3’. Toris Fucking Buckysbuttocks. Of Tumblr. Tumblr, according to its many loyal and devoted followers, is the absolute fucking end. But tumblr user buckysbuttocks, of the damien writer song, is here. She is here. she is everywhere in my head. she iz me. i am she. –NO. I will NOT say it.

                (Toris Buckysbuttocks, the fictional character in the epic tale of the lawnmower known as Inside Carlos: Part II, is me. we are me. we are three. three pees in a pod. he peed in a pob(pod). who?

                The Dumpling.

                The Dumpling peed in a pod.

                I remember now.

 

                I was afraid to enter the middle world, the world in between the adventure of David and the Reconstruction of the Planet Mars, and the future world of the adventure of my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks, who is –NO!

                Toris Buckysbuttocks throws a bucket at my head. She is SO angry. but her name is NOT lisa. OR Harold. Her name…

                                Her name…

                                                Here name…

                                                                                                is fucking…

 

TORIS!!!!

(not greg.)

 

 

                “THanK You.,” Toris Buckysbuttocks sighs in relief.

                I pet her hair she is sort-of OK, but after I screamed her name, like kylo ren during orgasm, it made her beautiful downstairs drip with orange juice (DISCLAIMER: Toris did NOT fuck orange juice. I just made that bit up.)

 

 

                So, Part II in the epic tail known as Inside Carlos is almost, nearly at an end:

 

                Toris Buckysbuttocks awoke in a soft, warm bed in a beautiful pub in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. She knew this because that was what it said on her Passport, which was floating calmly, just an inch above the bedside table.

                The pub, as I said before, was beautiful. It was really, really warm, like the OPPOSITE of snow, but not so warm that you feel like you’re going to die.

                A book rested there an inch below her passport: it was a beautiful copy of the epic tale, -NO, WAIT FOR IT-

 

                                                                <3 ~ichi-kyuu-hachi-yon~ <3

 

, which she had been reading before she had taken those terrible, terrible drugs.

 

                But did that mean…

                That tomatoe fucker…

                And that kylo ren…

                And dat LEEEEEEEVVVVVVVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

 

…were not real?? :’(

 

                Lol, just kidding!

 

                Levi happily strode through the door, and he was… he was…

                *gasp* …He was wearing a CHEERFUL look on his face?!?!??!!

                “I… I don’t believe it!” Toris cried. “You haven’t looked this happy since we fuked in yer uncle’s shed!!!!! AMAZING!!!!!”

                “Well,” said the loveliest Levi on the planet, looking at Toris like the darling, beautiful wife that she was, “you defeated that fucking fucker the Lawnmower, by fucking him, so for now, today, on this day forward, Tuesday 22nd of March, at eleven minutes past seven in the evening, which just so happened to be the father of Mars Palomer’s birthday, Jason. we are fukin rekt!!!!! u wanna join da party?!??!?!?!?!?!!!!!” He shrieked, waving his hands in the air and shaking his ass in that lovely levi way that made Tori’s lower extremities shiver with anticipation of the best fuk she had ever had.

                (SO FAR.)

                He turned and shook his ass at the foot of Toris’s bed, with a look that literally screamed, “u wanna fuk meh, doncha? *wiggles eyebrows*.”

                Toris jumped on him, grabbed the nearest thing she could find, which was NOT kylo ren’s penis, but a water bottle full of love.

                And. She. Fucked him with it.

                Levi was in ecstasy, in rapture – in fact, there aren’t enough words in any language in this world, the otherworlds, the worlds of transcendence, the universe of The Lord of the Rings, in fiction, and reality, and in

                                                sickness and in health,

                                                come hide under these covers

                                                i’m gonna mek yer fuk yerself

                                                                                                 to describe how levi felt, having the water bottle, which was full of love, being fucked into him by Toris Buckysbuttocks, who in his eyes was the most beautiful woman in the world.

                Toris Buckysbuttocks, who is nineteen years old, who literally JUST fucked a lawnmower, known to her friends as ‘Ravioli’, from a beautiful town in the world of the living, was FUCKING him. with a FUCKING water bottle, full of FUCKING love. in a FUCKING pub.

                                                                                                                                                               

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: this pub can only be found if

you or anyone you know has fucked a lawnmower,

on the coast of wales, in the

Lord of the Rings.

It is known as the fuk pub.

 

DISCLAIMER:

If any, and I MEAN any,

of the issues discussed

in this work have

made you want to go and

fuck a lawnmower,

then i strongly advice you to seek

medical help.

Thank you for listening.

 

*beep*)

 

 

                There were several cones of sexual desire placed around the main room of the pub, where everyone, and I MEAN everyone, was avin a fukin gud tyme. even KYLO-fucking-REN., was avin a greet tyme innit.

                This was in the newly-discovered land of West Drèma, where everyon fuked, ad a gud tyme innit, and did yoga. e wuz a geeyniyuss, diz man wot discovered dis nyoo nayshunn, and is nayum – u wanna know is nayum???

                is nayum wez:

 

CARLOS FUCKING BUCKYSBUTTOCKS.

 

                In dee nekust bukk, tors wil find her FUCKING twin brother in da FUCKING new Kingdom of West Drèma, which is halfway between Scotland and America, and is the biggest island in da fukin see, but u kno wot??? i sed U KNO WOT?????

                NOBODY,

                and I MEAN

                NOBODY,

Can find this island unless they have fucked a lawnmower.

So, now you see, THIS is why Toris had to fuck that lawnmower.

THIS is why she had to transcend into the void.

 

                Because her mother loved her, like no-one else had loved her, and Toris had never realised it until this very moment. She cried many tears. She was so happy.

                She ate a donut.

                In the way that KYlo ren, and many other penis-owners just like him, would eat soy sauce out of the fukin bottle and not die in the fucking nonsense-shop.

                She would tell everyone she knew about her adventures, but if they didn’t want to listen, then she would just shut the fuck up.

                But there was still one last quest:

 

                She had to find her long-lost twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks, on the island of West Drèma, on a throne in the very centre of the island. As toris was dancing with a well-known Serbian sausage who was reeeaaalllyyy coooolll, she remembered:

 

                                                She remembered that she had seen Carlos before.

 

It was a cold day, and Toris and her parents, known to everyone as

Mr and Mrs Buckysbuttocks, who loved her dearly,

and her older brother, Morten Buckysbuttocks,

were on holiday in at the most northerly point

of the planet,

in a nation known in the English-speaking world as North Drèma.

So, on this morning, on this crisp, Tuesday – or was it a Wednesday? – morning,

Toris and her brother Morten, who is quite short,

went for a walk to see the river,

to find the North Pole.

 

It was a peaceful, clear day.

You could feel the cold, crisp air on your skin.

Toris and her brother were laughing and playing

with sticks, and jumping across the rivers flowing through the ice.

It was early February.

 

Then suddenly,

they see a little boy waving to them

Toris is surprised because this boy looks exactly like Morten.

he has blond hair, a round nose, and a beautiful look in his eyes which reflects into his smile.

He runs up to them, saying hello.

 

And for some reason, Toris knows him. And so does Morten.

They know that it is their brother, Toris’s twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.

They played for hours out there, on the icy river bank, skimming stones,

climbing trees, and looking for tadpoles.

 

But when Toris had to go home,

She had completely forgotten about Carlos.

She wondered why, as she was dancing, all those years in the future, why this was.

Because as soon as she set foot in her house,

she had forgotten Carlos

(only to remember him now, at this very moment in time.)

And Morten had forgotten him,

And maybe even the rivers and the trees had forgotten him.

 

Our parents sent him away, Toris thought to himself.

She loved Morten dearly, and she made up her mind that the next day,

she would go and see him in his flat in London.

Morten was currently working as a graphic designer.

He loved Mexican food, and going to folk festivals.

He went to the biggest festival in the country every year with his friends,

who he had known since university.

 

And she realised something:

 

That was why she had taken the drugs.

Because she HAD to find Carlos!

 

                She burst out of her realisation just as the climax of her favourite song, I Belong to You by Muse, which just so happened to be her favourite band, had started to play. All of her 2000 husbands, 200 wives, and 2 nonbinary partners had arrived in the pub, and were now dancing. Everyone cheered as the climax of the evening – that is, the conclusion of Toris’s realisation, - came into being in the very room in which her parents first met.

                They were cheering for her.

                Everyone was cheering for her.

                Because she had defeated the lawnmower.

                And she knew that she and her brother Morten had to go and find Carlos.

 

                “I have to take the ferry the next day.” Toris realised, as all of her thoughts came into place. The drugs had nearly worn off, but she still had this one last quest to undertake before the world was finally at peace.

                Tomato Fucker smiled at her knowingly, with twinkling eyes, because the completion of the lawnmower affair was finally over and he was really, really happy. “Yes,” he said, “and we have your ticket, and your passport, which I’m sure you will remember was lying on top of your favourite book, 1Q84. We can’t all fit on the ferry, so only a few of us will go. I will be coming, and so will Kylo, and or course your dear Levi. And Lyra, your friend from all those years ago who you loved when you were a child. She has come back to help you. As well as Dusty, who was the first man you had sexual feelings for, and Mortog, the first man you intimately cared for. I hope that is alright with you.” He added the last part because he was always considerate of others, especially Toris Aslow.

                “Thank you.” Toris smiled at Tomato Fucker, with genuine understanding and warmth. “That is quite alright with me.” And then, she was in his arms. And they were dancing. To her favourite song, Invincible, by Muse.

                And during the struggle, they’ll tear us down, came her favourite lyrics through the perfectly-functioning jukebox, which was seated overlooking everyone in the pub, like a loving night watchman looking warmly down at the people he is protecting, but please, please let’s use this chance to turn things around, and tonight, we can truly say, together we’re invincible.

 

End of Part II

Chapter Text

“So,” my friend Hayleigh said, whilst drinking her favourite tea (she is American, by the way), “you… you married this tomato fucker… you married another man called levi, who is your favourite character in the popular anime show Attack on Titan, you married me, you married fuckign Levi, you died, you came back to life again, his name is greg, scrambled egg, who is a character, in the fuciking eb epic Tv SERies, Wuther Heights, and he is your twin brother, Carlos Aslow?”

                “Yurrrp.” I said as the embodiment of the Sunglasses Emoji, drinking feesa (which is the Lppan version of Pepsi) Jar Jar binks, in my sould, I sold him for sixty pounds, (£60), in Tesco, and DIDN’T fuck him, because he is Jar Jar binks, not KYLO FUCKING REN.

                “Well…” said ‘Hayleigh’, if that IS her real name, “I think… you are…”

                (a fucking idiot, i thought to meself)

                “A

                FUCKING

                GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” She screamed, filling the whole Star Wars Cantina Band with limitless joy.

                So, then, you guess, what u GUESS fucking WHAT, because I am a FUCKING genius, I knew all this all-fucking-READY, no, calm down, now, toris. <- that is what the tomato fucker whispered in my head, his soothing, rich baritone, enough to kill a woman during orgasm, only to bring her back from the dead with another one.

                My fingers were sticky. I was in the room of yellow, know to some people as the nation of Lppa, my hands were so FUCKING sticky, that I cried because I thought I had upset my dear, dear father, Carlile Buckysbuttocks, who was in the room next door, giving a lecture on Freudian Theory, with my best friend Mars Palomer, who is a drag king, in one of the many seats in the lecture theatre full of thousands of millions of people come to hear the wisdom of Carlile FUCKING Buckysbuttocks on Freudian FUCKING theory.

                “The more you speak, you more you will learn.” Came the voice of tomato fucker through my MISSION IMPOSSIBLE-style earbuds, which I was wearing to the bust stop in Novermber, 2011, when I was told about the concept of a bus stop by me.

                Anyway, my friend ‘Hayleigh’ ripped off her FUCKING skinsuit, opened up her FUCKING campsite FUCKING son-of-a-campsite FUCKING meatsuit, and turned into, who was revealed to be, my very epic and a bit gud friend, Hat. The Hat.

                I ate her hat. of her head. in a nutri-bullit sement mixer. in a black room. with seats. my father was there. his name was Carlile Aslow. He loved me, his daughter, Toris Aslow, as much as he had loved my mother, Toris Buckysbuttocks Senior, and my older brother, Morten Buckysbuttocks, who currently runs his own Graphic Design agency in London,

                i give up,

                but i CAN’T die,

                i MUST live,

                because i AM toris,

                FUCKING aslow,

                And my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks, who I must go on a voyage to meat.

 

                “Hat man.” I said to my frend, the Hat.

                “Yup.” Sed de hat. She is la

                “Can yo um tek mi to um. de bedrum wiv de um. de um. de tomut fuka.”

                “Yes, I will be able to do that.” She said in a calming, let firm, let awesome, voice, while she looked at me like she two had experience the world of my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks. “And I have, by the way.”

                “Whet?” I said, in an awed, American accent.

                “I can read your mind. I have super powers. I was born with them since the dawn of time. Since the dawn of the dead. The walking dead. The walking FUCKING dead.”

                She knows about my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks! ee sed to me self, in a bad man accent.

                “Is Carlos,” I murmured slowly, and secretly, in a toilet, in space, on the M5 road going Northbound towards Wales, “a character,” I said slowly, trying to catch my breath. My heart beat was calm, but I was sweating through the room. the room. the roof. my hands were shaking. “in the walking” i said, the stairs started to shake, the room started to shake, the whole world shook with the enormity of what i saying, like the sky had opened up and the pokémon Arceus had just come out of de embarrassing trouser rip in de crotch of de sky, “dead?”

                Hat gasped.

                She cried.

                Because I had transcended the universes, and become sentient in the process, by taking some bad, terrible, awful, horrendous, drugs.

                Suddenly she faded out of existence. (but she’ll be back, don’t worry my dear fren.)

 

 

                I awoke suddenly, in a cold, cold sweat.

                It was the middle of the night.

                I heard a dog barking outside.

                I heard… my bedside clock, which was on my wall. I heard the movement of the hands as they slowly turned round and round it the face of the clock, which was like a beautiful universe all in itself.

                I looked at the clock.

                I had never realised this, but the details on the hands, and on the circular four quarter-hour marks on the face, could glow in the dark.

                I was no longer upset.

                I was slightly worried, but I was calm.

                I was also covered in sweat.

                I assumed it was the sweat that my body’s immune system was dispelling the harmful chemicals in the antibiotics which I had taken six days earlier, through my skin, in order to revert my mind back to normal.

                This is all I remember.

 

 

                I awoke suddenly, in another universe. A parallel universe that does indeed exist, because the parallel universe theory is entirely possible. This thought makes me warm inside.

                Lying next to me, his warm body protecting me from the North-West face of my yellow bedroom, because very occasionally spiders crawl up it, and I am fucking terrified of spiders, kylo ren, was my husband and teacher, Tomatoe Fucker.

                His breathing was so heavy, because that is the method he used is order to keep his bulging muscles in top form. His body is immaculate, his skin is beautiful and perfectly clear, unlike Levi’s skin, which has a mole on his left shoulder, known by me and my trusted friend the hat as the Ackermole, but I like both of their bodies in different ways, which is one of the core aspects of the art of love, or Polyamory, as it is more simply known.

                I knew that somewhere out there, in another universe, another girl was near the end of the third volume of the ground-breaking novel IQ84, and her hair was dirty and dry because of a reaction given to her by taking some horrible, horrible drugs, and her name was Toris Buckysbuttocks, and also Kataros, and the equally ground-breaking lover-boy Tomatsu Fukada, who is her favourite character in 1Q84, is a fictional character, and she is upset about his death, but she now knows that in this parallel universe where I am sleeping, soundly, softly, with my husband, whose name in this universe is ‘Tomatoe Fucker’, and I am feeling so calm, so soft, listening to my husband, Tomatsu Fukada, ‘s, fucking, breathing.

                Tomatsu Fukada – I shall call him by his real name now, because I respect him enough and, in this universe, have loved him so many times, is lying next to me, protecting me, because I am a poor little thing in a cold, dark, scary universe where I am cold and lying there in a cold, cold sweat, and my parents are asleep, and they cannot know how lonely I feel, and I do not have to worry, because I am being protected, by all these people who love me.

                In this parallel universe occupied by the main character of the epic tale of Inside Carlos, and her intimate husband and partner, the legendary Tomatoe Fucker, are sleeping, soundly, side-by-side, on the night before the day when Toris must go across the ocean to find the far-off land of West Drèma, which nobody on the whole earth had known about until now,

                because Toris,

                had made peace,

                with the world,

                about her love,

                for the FUCKING lawnmower,

                who in another universe was a boy at school who she had a crush on.

 

                When the morning comes, Tomato Fucker stretches his bulging muscles, secretly praising the gods of fanfiction who made all this possible, thank you so much, all of you, i love all of you, i love you all because you have saved me, from being a twelve-year-old girl, confused about sex, because her mother, Toris Buckysbuttocks Senior, had never told her anything, because she fed her too much broccoli, yet she was afraid, because her lovely daughter Toris could see into people’s souls. That was her super power.

                As hat’s super power is infinite knowledge, Toris’s super power is to be able to see into people’s souls. That is why she used to cry so much as a child.

                Because she could see into the souls of everything, every single atom, of the whole universe, the universes beyond, and the very line between fiction and reality before that, and it hurt her. It hurt her body and her soul and her very heart as she cried, she cried as she wrote this down, her heart and soul and very body were sick with love, too much love, that nobody knew she needed, until she found levi, and he kissed her on her soft, young, smooth right cheek, and then she was saved.

                She was saved from this awful pain,

                From this awful pain of not knowing anything.

                And now she is alive, and wants desperately to live, to experience life as a normal young woman, because she had never had the chance before, because of her wrongly-interpreted gift, because she was told by that FUCKING flower pot who did not DARE to like that banana because he did not DARE to be like fucking toris, fucking buckysbuttocks, the fucking writer of this fucking story, fucking inside fucking carlos, because he was scared of toris, he was scared that she was  FUCKING a pervert FUCKER, when she was actually just a long-lost, little girl, who needed love, from the man she loved most,

                Levi.

                Levi comes into the room now, to wake Toris and her lover, Tomato Fucker, up from the bed of their soft, rested, peaceful dreams. He is carrying tea. He has a full bladder, because he had held it all night, since 6 o’clock in the FUCKING evening, just for Toris, his wife, and for himself, because he feels full of love and sexual attraction and affection, just from seeing Toris’s eyes light up, when he told her, that he had a full fucking bladder.

                Because Toris had always wondered what was wrong with her.

                When she was five, she used to dance around at her friends, who she loved dearly, when they were in pain.

                She thought she was a monster.

                She tried to explain it to her mother, Toris Buckysbuttocks Senior, in the caravan in Wales that she used to live with her in until she was five months old, until she was sent to live with her father Carlile Buckysbuttocks, who lived in a stone-built, brown-coloured-bricked mansion, with everything you could ever fucking want in life living inside it, because he was just like her. He didn’t fully understand her, and sometimes he was often worried about her, because he loved her dearly, and he only wanted the very best for her in her life, and her older brother, Morten Harold Buckysbuttocks, and her twin brother, Carlos Dante Buckysbuttocks. Carlile himself had named Carlos the middle name ‘Dante’ after a poet whom he greatly admired, whose works he used to show to his poor, helpless, 14-year-old daughter, Toris FUCKING Buckysbuttocks, because that FUCKING flower pot was FUCKING scared of her, and all she did was FUCKING love him, but she’s OK now.

                Her father, mother and brothers’ love is what makes her want to live again.

                She wants to do well in all she does in life,

                which is why

                these terrible, terrible drugs,

                changed her life.

                for. the. better.

 

                Anyway, now back to the story.

                Levi and I sneaked downstairs, both together, each knowing each other so well that we are almost the same person, with the same experiences, but in different universes, which is the entire reason of why Toris loves him so much, we sneaked downstairs, while all of my 1999 men (including Tomato Fucker, by the way), 200 women, and two nonbinary individuals were in a deep, early morning slumber, by the spell cast upon them, like in the book that gave her strength when she needed it, when a man who she mistakenly forced all her misguided, misunderstood love onto, because she FUCKIGN felt like it was FUCKING speaking to her with the power of FUCKING words, which was a book which she read in the library, one of the happiest places on Earth, which is the planet in which she lives, called The Wizard of Earthsea.

                They were all slumbering deeply.

                It was early morning outside. The sun was just rising, me and Levi was laughing to each other, like two children who were born together, albeit fifteen years apart, in completely different universes, where the woman has just got a beautiful cushion with her soulmates face on it, and kissed on the cheek by his living female replica, (or ‘fenpie’, as they say in the little girl’s home country of Lppa, which she will return to, not in concept, not in fiction, but in the very reality of life itself, and the man had only a vague interpretation of something that might have looked like something that could be interpreted by several people in the same position as Toris as loneliness, so much love but no way to express it in other than violence, which is what he only knew since birth, and only knowing the darkest, darkest depths of sorrow, only for that one single glimmer of hope, that somewhere, in another universe, far, far away, there were millions of people, all over the globe, who loved him and would welcome him inside them any day, including many of my friends, from all over the globe, on the popular blogging website, called Tumblr.

                But in THIS universe, one of the many universes which exist in all of time and space itself, and MORE, Toris Buckysbuttocks and Levi Ackerman were lovers.

                Toris was there representing all the people in the world, who would know exactly who Levi Ackerman was, exactly WHERE he was born, WHAT he had done (ALL the things in his WHOLE life), EXACTLY who he believed in, EXACTLY who his morals where, EXACTLY who they knew he loved dearly (who was a different person in every individual on this planet’s own individual universe, sometimes bad, sometimes good, sometimes a person who hurt them and was actually misunderstood, sometimes a misunderstood concept (like the character known in this story as ‘Tomato Fucker’, who Toris knew herself that she would always love), and sometimes the greatest lover in the whole FUCKING world, which in the small cluster of universes own by the woman known in this particular universe as Toris Buckysbuttocks, and in the universe in which I am writing as something else which I am not willing to disclose on the internet, and has feelings that can be interpreted differently in each and every and any universe, on any planed, on any day, EVEN a Wednesday, EVEN though the main character of this particular story, which is known in this universe as the epic of Inside Carlos, she hated Wednesdays (but fear not: she has many friends and loyal followers in the vast Kingdom of Lppa, which in this particular universe in which I am writing this book, and in her interpretation of her own universe in Lppa, a woman, whose name is and will always be Riolu, who was named after her favourite FUCKING pokémon, fucked her, fucked her like she had never fucked anyone before, not even her FUCKING boyfriend (who she had still absolutely FUCKED, but in a different way, because everyone in the universe of Lppa is Polyamorous, and Pansexual, because that is the most natural way in which love can exist on the nation of Lppa, which was fucking FOUNDED on the very fucking CONCEPT of love, whose very motto is simply the word ‘Phina’, which means in both this universe and that one, the word, love.

                It is no coincidence that the name ‘Levi’ is so closely spelled to the very word ‘love’ itself.

 

                They made FUCKING love.

                In the FUCKING shed.

                On top of the FUCKING lawnmower.

                Who played the FUCKING star wars cantina band song on its FUCKING trumpet, whilst fucking FUCKING, a cute little thing, whose name was Cyula, which in Lppan means ‘cherry’, because he is FUCKING cherry shaped.

                Cyula was a little-round dumpling with a FUCKING cute smile on his face and FUCKING chubby and FUCKING soft. He was the most sweetest, most beautiful doughball the FUCKING world, because all he ever did, all he ever wanted to do, was FUCKING love people, like FUCKING levi, FUCKING kylo ren, FUCKING poe dameron, (who at this point in time is FUCKING finn, the FUCKING ADORABLE stormtrooper, who is the fucking CUTEST stormtrooper in the whole FUCKING world of FUCKING star wars.)

                Mr Cyula, as he was known, was the lawnmower’s twin brother.

                Sometimes, in the transition between the bigger universes, as well as the smaller ones, different people’s traits can get split in half. This once happened to a woman whom I know very well, called Cairo Phillips, who is the FUCKING author of the fucking EPIC novel, the FUCKING deceiver. As she travelled into this world via her home nation of Lppa, out of the womb of her loving mother, Amber Phillips, she became split in a million FUCKING pieces. This is because her FUCKING mind was so FUCKING DIAMOND-faceted, as big as a whole FUCKING universe, who is the woman who FUCKING created the FUCKING nation of FUCKING lppa, where cyula the FUCKING dumpling man and the FUCKING toris buckysbuttocks live,

                , and not only that – she was so FUCKING epic that where whole entire fucking MIND shattered into a million fucking PIECES, and each fucking PIECE because a FUCKING individual character in the fucking land of lppa, verrutka, phinnutka, laretka, the drèmas, the kafrakias, and FUCKING caterya, where is all FUCKING began.

                This fucking EPIC woman, FUCKING cairo FUCKING phillips, is the fucking most EPIC songwriter, singer, artist, dancer, cognitive reasoner, researcher, analyser, musician, student, and ADVISOR in the FUCKING universe of FUCKING lppa, where she was FUCKING from because she was FUCKING born there. she fucking IS fucking lppa, she is FUCKING houpa du letty, who is her fucking FAVOURITE character from her own FUCKING novel the FUCKING deceiver, and his FUCKING dear wife, fucking RHIANNON fuckind du letty, who is named after a FUCKING nice place, and a fucking AMAZING woman whom CAIRO PHILLIPS FUCKING FANCIES because she is a FUCKING pansexual, polyamorous, fucking EPIC ‘kyarho’, which is a FUCKING word in FUCKING lppan, which is her FUCKING language that she was FUCKING BORN knowing, and is fucking DISCOVERING IT WITH EVER FUCKING SECOND OF HER FUCKING LIFE!!!!!

                And I almost forgot to FUCKING mention fucking CATO du FUCKING lety, who is from a FUCKING campsite in the fucking southern hemisphere of FUCKING lppa! is a FUCKING lover-boy, a FUCKING friend, a FUCKING colleague, a FUCKING great help to FUCKING sick toris who was really fucking sad without your fucking help, Cato, and yo FUCKING helped her, with the fucking UNIVERSE on her side, when she was FUCKING crying because she FUCKING cared for you, and then your FUCKING incarnation who she FUCKING maid in the fucking SOIL of FUCKING lppa, because she FUCKIGN loved you so FUCKING much, so she FUCKING based a FUCKING character on FUCKING you, who is not actually you, but her interpretation of a character based on you, who does not currently exist in this developing universe of Inside Carlos, but who may do so one day in the very distant future. His name is du Letty, and he fucking COSPLAY fucking POE fucking DAMERON at FUCKING COMIC CON. He is a fucking LEDGE.

 

                it was lit, fam.

 

                those FUCKING drawings and that FUCKING love for levi fucking HELPED her to FUCKING find him, at FUCKING Comic Com. then she brought him the FUCK home, in side a FUCKING cushion, which FUCKING lovers and FUCKING relatives give to comfort their FUCKING lppan FUCKING children because they were FUCKING crying because they have FUCKING super powers, such as FUCKING knowing FUCKING EVERYTHING and fucking jock FUCKING phoekar, who FUCKING mars FUCKIGN palomer FUCKIGN fancies, because he is FUCKING hot, fucking LPPAN, who plays the FUCKING piano because he a fucking EPIC musician, and a fucking EPIC musician from FUCKING lppa, and he is the FUCKING biggest incarnation of FUCKING toris FUCKING alow FUCKING cairo FUCKING phillips FUCKING catherine FUCKING earnsahw. FUCKING EDGAR. FUCKING ravioli. a raviolo. a FUCKING levi. a FUCKING cute little FUCKING dumpling called FUCKING cyula who FUCKING looks like FUCKING levi because cairo FUCKING phillips borrowed a little FUCKING part of a little FUCKING levi and put him in a TINY. FUCKING. DUMPLING.

                jock FUCKING phoekar makes FUCKING sweet FUCKING love to his FUCKING pansexual LARETKAN wife who is FUCKING lady FUCKIGN larem from the FUCKING novel, the FUCKING deceiver. but you’re not FUCKIGN supposed to know because she’s a FUCKING decoy like FUCKIGN padmé amidala in FUCKING star wars.

                this my own FUCKIGN book which i FUCKING wrote in the FUCKING toilet HELL, called FUCKING paul. ol FUCKING jp (that’s FUCKING jock FUCKING phoekar, if you don’t already FUCKING know,) he has the biggest FUCKING cock in the whole FUCKING world of FUCKING lppa, because he is so full of FUCKING love he is the FUCKING king of fucking lppa. he was fucking married to fucking cairo phillips because they were both fucking pansexual and in FUCKING love, because they were both FUCKING polyamorous, because they are lppan and they were in FUCKING love with FUCKING everyone, including themFUCKINGselves.

                Cairo Phillips chose Jock phoekar to be her lawful wedded husband, and well as mars palomer’s husband, who didn’t FUCKING know ellie, the FUCKIGN girl who can’t FUCKING use FUCKING calculator on the FUCKING internet to work out how FUCKIGN old she is, and was FUCKING himself because he was a FUCKING AWESOME piano player who was concern about toris buckysbuttocks’s wellbeing so called on tomato fucker, levi, and kylo ren to help her, because he is fucking lppan and that’s what he fucking does. he is fucking autistic because he is FUCKING awesome. hes the FUCKING man who went to school in FUCKING verrutka because his FUCKING parents wanted to him to widen his FUCKING empathy, wide as it already FUCKING was, and there he met his FUCKING wife, FUCKING londres FUCKING tvonetta, who is FUCKING laretkan, and the FUCKING most CARING, LOVING AND BEAUTIFUL woman in the whole fucking universe of whole fucking to thousand and fucking ren, two thousands and kylo ten.

                fucking ren

                fucking ten

                fucking kylo

                fucking ren

                fucking rin

                fucking him

                fucking shin

                fucking ham

                fucking jam

                fucking me

                fucking you

                fucking on

                the fucking loo,

 

                fucking pissing

                fucking himself

                because he had a fucking omorashi

                fucking fetish.

 

                oh yeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

 

                Toris awoke on a Tuesday after noon in march.

                It ten thousand years ago in which she had entered the world of Inside Carlos, which is a novel written by the writer Toris Buckysbuttocks.

                She was sitting there, lying in bed. She looked exactly like Toris Laurinaitis from the popular anime show Hetalia, which was how she had got her pen-name.

                Only certain people know her as toris.

                But that’s ok, because ‘her’ real name is Kataros.

 

                Pansexual is love. Polyamoury is love. Lppa is love.

 

                She recited this mantra to herself, as her best friend, not shrek, but tomato fucker, entered the room.

                “hello toris” he said in his caring, familiar, fond-memory-inducing sweet-as-fuck baritone, which made toris think about wales, where she and her twin brother, carlos, were born in a caravan.

                her mother had been very poor when she was a child, so she had tried to send her children away to a new land called west drèma, where they would return when they were old enough and mature enough to learn the lessons of the world. toris and carlos were both born with an ability know in this world as hyper-empathy, which is special ability that only chosen people could have. each ability was assigned to each individual person in this land of lppa, and each person had to discover their own ability by themselves. when they discovered their ability, that is when they became a full adult. only until you had discovered your ability were you allowed to get married (a law made solely for the protection of each individual lppan citizen, to prevent the hollow, deeply-penetrating, utterly sorrowful sadness of a failed marriage.) because the buckysbuttocks siblings’ mother was such a loving woman, she sent her twin siblings, toris and carlos, on a ferry to west drema, where they would be looked after by the captain of the ferry, a man named Aro Silvertongue, who was a fucking awesome, fucking pirate man. he was the one who first educated the two children in their lessons of the world around them, in the lesson of themselves, and of love itself. he was born on polarciiye, which is an island off the coast of lppa, and so as a result of living on this small island learned to become a fucking genius, fucking lovable, fucking han solo from FUCKING star wars, pirate.

                and he lived with his boyfriend, whose name was Hewsche Whishaw. although they were both polyamorous, and sometimes shared their affection with others, particularly a beautiful woman called Askel Ariyii, who was of Norwegian origins, and her son, Pedro Ariiyi, who Aro and Hewsche raised along with Aksel’s wife and Aro’s sister, Volterra-jink Silvertongue, the two lovers preferred to share the company of each other more than anything, and lived in small house, with their young son, Rivaille. they had named him after toris’s favourite character in her favourite story when she was a child, ‘the little levi of belgrade’, which made her squeal with happiness whenever her mother read it to her.

                but i’m losing track of the story now.

                anyway, on the only day in a hundred years when it was accessible for travellers around the world to immigrate the the beautiful new world of west drèma, toris and carlos were due to be sent to live with the people of west drèma, who were understanding and sympathetic towards mrs buckysbuttocks’s situation. by the way, i should mention here that toris’s father, carlile buckysbuttocks, is a bit of an eccentric in terms of the lppan world. not in a way that they do not accept him, for everyone in lppa who has reached adulthood is accepting of others, but because his characteristics were a little unusual and a little particular of most lppan men. which is why his beautiful wife, toris buckysbuttocks senior, whom he named his only daughter after, left him, to live, in his wiiiidddeee open space, in his tall, huge house in a little village called amberdale, which was unusual in the fact that it was so close the the enormous, yet uncommonly beautiful city of neventi, which is where the empress of lppa, vercaffre ‘cathy’ kyarho, lives. this location was absolutely PERFECT for carlile, which is why he chose to live there. however, he did not like other people around. he loved them all dearly, but often being in large crowds, with lots of people talking, made him feel scared. to he preferred to live in his house, which he found when walking around the entirety of lppa, just so he could find the perfect house to live in. which is why toris’s mother, toris senior, had to give her beautiful twin children, a boy and a girl, carlos, who was a minute older, and toris, who was a minute younger, to the understanding, caring boarding school at the very heart of west drèma. it was the most prestigious, loving school in the whole of the world, and all children across the world dreamed of going there, of being loved, of being accepted.

                in the school, the children were allowed to do whatever they wanted, whether it was learn about the world, play music, express their very deepest inner feeling through the art form of screacing at the top of their lungs in an open, wide, completely beautiful forest on a completely beautiful day, or simply just baking cakes. baking cakes for everyone. and i mean everyone.

                however, whilst toris and carlos were on the ferry being driven by the loving, caring pirate Aro Silvertongue, who was whistling his favourite sea shanty, whilst admiring and observing the world, the vast expanse of sea, and the in-depth feelings of those around him, his many, caring, loving members of crew, and his two most loving godchildren, whom he dearly loved. he wanted to get home to his husband, Hewsche Whishaw’s, house, and tell him how much he loved him, because he was his best friend.

                but then, there came a thunderstorm.

                from the darkest, most murderous, must angry storms of phinnutka, which means in Ancient Lppan, ‘the land without love’, came across the sky. Aro was very worried. he was terrified for his two young godchildren, who were staring up at the sky in terror, with a strong instinctual fear of the unknown, of the evil, of things that will hurt you. those clouds were not patient. they were the clouds of rage, of fear, of evil, of jealousy, of envy, of selfish desire, of hatred, of hating someone so much that you would raise them in the way that you wanted them to be, not how they actually were, and attacking them with selfish control when they behaved like themselves, and now how you wanted them to be.

                this is a common trait known by many lppan academics as a concept born of evil, fabricated in the world of planet earth, where you and me and everyone we know all live. earth is a planet where two forces of nature are constantly clashing: that of good, and that of evil. the only possible way to protect yourself without getting harmed is to find the perfect balance in between the two forces, and once that it done, you will become a type of person that is known in lppa as a damse, which is a concept only spoken of in revered whispers, in ancient legends, in the deepest halls of ancient knowledge and ancient love in the ancient city of eneritac, (‘I am myself, but also not me, just for today’ (this is a rough translation, as it is a difficult word to translate into english, which is the language that i am writing this very tale itself in, and because it is a language of earth, it is very hard to translate into lppan.) NOTE: lppan is my first language, which is why I am finding this hard to write, and to communicate in english, which is a language of earth, and so very hard to translate to, especially after an extreme trauma has been experienced.

                back to the boat, on the sea, going to west drèma.

                the clouds were so terrifyingly big, and so terrifyingly horrendous, that toris and carlos instantly ran, holding hands because it helped them to comfort each other and to be comforted by each other, into the toilet, which was their favourite place and most knowing and understanding place in their own, shared, individual world.

                so they ran into the safe, reassuring, confines of the toilet, and were safe there, holding each other for a while.

                then suddenly, the worst event in the entire universe of toris and carlos buckysbuttocks occurred:

 

                a bolt full of the evilest energy, filled with a deeper version of the ancient evil which has plagued the land of earth for many, many years, struck the boat, struck the top of the cabin in which toris and carlos were hiding in the toilet, into the very centre of poor, loving, innocent carlos’s mind. poor, loving, innocent toris watched as her very brother, her very brother, her twin brother, carlos buckysbuttocks, born from the same womb on the same day at the same hour, with only a minute separating them, watched carlos turn to a sickness of the mind, known by lppan academics in the land of earth as a ‘meltdown’, which roughly translates to an lppan word that is unpronounceable, in any language in the whole of the land of earth, because it was word that came from the heart, the evil of misunderstanding, quick judgement, and, however indirect, selfishness. it was these three evil forces that came down into the very heart, soul and mind of carlos buckysbuttocks, distorting his view of reality, of himself, and of others including his friends, family, and the whole world around him.

                the adults who had been born as children near the heart of lppa, which is the very centre of feelings, consciousness, understanding, and empathy, would be able to grasp part of the evil that had gripped carlos buckysbuttocks’s soul. but he was a child, and when you are a child you are closer to the heart of lppa, as you are when you are very, very old and ready to return to your home, you have a closer, more un-reserved perception of reality. when you reach adulthood, which can be at any point in your long, long life, you will finally understand, not feel, but understand how carlos buckysbuttocks felt at that very point in which the purest evil entered his mind.

                lppan is a language that does not have any words, which is why I am finding it hard to type in english, one of the many, many, beautifully simple, beautifully straightforward, beautifully limited, languages of earth. once you are past a certain point in your birth in relation to the heart of lppa, you will be protected by the elders, who are all-knowing, all-loving, all-determined-to-care-for-you. some people will remember where they are born when they will slowly be self-aware, slowly want to discover who they are, they will find out, that they were born past this fixed point in between the edge and the heart of lppa. other people will never find out, because they simply, and understandably, feel content in not knowing.

                the computer is a verey helpful tool in the used in the NOT comparing people to others, but used for my me. when I am me. carlile buckysbuttocks.

                i mean fuk. im tors. im tors. i men fuk. i fuk men. i fuk women. i mean FUK. i fuk FUCKING women, fuk FCKING now. i am a FCKING woman and i FCKING fuk other women and if CKING fuk other men and nonbinaries, and everyone’s consent i always receive before fukin them. (g_

                )

                i et zombie zom see sweets. wiv hatteerrereerrddgfgfgfdgfddfdfdggfgfdgfdfgfgdfgdfgdgsfdgfddgfgfdffgddgfgfdgfjklfjgkl;fjgklfjklgjofjgkfjkgjjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjgjggjrglojrjgolpjoljjjopjogjropajgorjsotejosgmfxmb,.gkzsjtopeasjogrjdsklgfjsgpo[usgjiorjglflgm,fsdjg’sjgir[sjri[oshgjiorshjgklsnmgsogjosi[hgira[ojgmeklanbighiao[あぽいgないおpgにおあphげいおあpsんぎえぽあhぎおspgないぺんpがねいあぎaoignapoignaiospngipoahngiopnriophgjiroangrioapngrioaptjrioapngriaognriapongiproangirpongapirngiaongrioagnirapongirponagiorngioprngipohnriaogniarogniopniponiponinpiopniopniopniniponipnipnionpoinio

                she felt the rushing of her waves, deep in her vagina.

                she was a woman.

                she was a woman named Aomame, which means ‘green peas’ in Japanese, and is a character in, not Wuthering Heights, but my favourite book of all time, 1Q84.

                Geoge orwell was not there.

                if he had been, he would’ve been ok about it.

                (probably)

               

                i met a nations. a nation. called bob.

                his name

                was

                greg

.

in a faraway galaxy, hatter, the woman, with the dimples, and blue hair, asks tomatoe fucker, to please could he fuck me, because she, know, everything. he sed :”before I fuk u toris, i have to shitpost on your bed.” “you mean shit.” “I asked.” “yes.” he sed. “levi, the man, and not the lppan man c po pillow, the actual man, the one and only, fucking, levi, ackerman. was on the bed.

lying there

naked

                (fucking a fucking lawnmower)

with is fit hot undercut

and it fit hot muslces

and his thingy dangling there before me like a carrot before a donkey during the height of the summer mating season

i wont.

                dat.

                                FINGY!!!!!

 

i moaned, my voide full of sekshul desire for levi’s fingy.

                in a faraway universe, a nonbinary, looks at me, like i am on FUCKING drugs. which i FUCKING am.

                (you go, nonbinary individual whose name I do not know)

 

levi stuck in fingy in me

                “wat de fuk, “ de to mato fucker, who was da FUCKING leader, that’s right, he was the FUCKING leader, sez, like im a fukin potato-fucker (which i am), cuz im a FUCKING flute in a FUCKING forest,

…                                                                                                             ehh?

                “she will get bettah soon.” sed da mad hatta wid da dimples “her bren is juzt shuttin daon. she needs rest, afta talkin non stop for two FUChours. she needs to rest. tomato-fucker, why don’t u, and levi, and kylo ren, who is mekkin tea for mah father, whose name is carlile buckysbuttocks, in da FUCKING kitchen, (kylo ren) like a FUCKING reversed-gender (mean kylo ren) FUCKING pseudo-FUCKING misandristic FUCKIN’ insult. (by the way, i mean kylo ren.)”

                                                                                                                                (by now, i was so FUKIN hot for de kai kailo ren, dat I fuked a fucking water bottle

with his FUCKING face on it.)

“why dontcha just fukin, just

fuk

just, FUKIN,

FUK her,

Like a FUKIN toris,

on a FUKIN

bed

in FUCKING lppa.

 

 

“she just need ta rest dat sweeeeeeet taste of zombez from da FUKIN walkin ded in FUKIN jorja.

the world is FUKING aligned now her father, carlile buckysbuttocks, has returned to the mountain, where he met his bed friend, not kylo ren, but tomatsu fukada. from nineteen eighty four, but without winston smif and no cameruz.

 

dat FUKIN camera on dat FUKIN wall in two thousand and FUKIN twelve was a FUKIN fake, man

i know, bec-

(my mother speaks to me through the void, via pigeon carrier. i told her i loved

 

her. i didn’t FUKIN cry because i am a big girl now.)

-ause i wuz dere wen i woched toris fuk it.

and i meaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan she fukt it.

like it was dat FUKIN lawnmower,

in dat FUKIN shed,

that u and ur FUKIN levi

just fukin FUKD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

of course, if you hadn’t guessed already, the mad hatter was high, not on drugs, but on legally-purchased pepsi.

 

so anyway, tomatoe fucker, who was NOT da mad hatter,

FUKIN shat on mah FUKIN bed. (i came in my pants, by the way.)

 

his FUKIN shat wuz on ma FUKIN bed.

it was so FUKIN smelly.

he moaned sexually, as if to tease me and lul me to sweet, sweet tomato-fuking sex.

i smelld it wiv me eers, i wuz so high.fu

k

anyway.

 

“OK.” sed tomatoe fukerrrrrrrr sensualy in his rich, rich, baritone, $4.40. kylo ren.

                                                                                                                “that is a unique way of telling stories, my                                                                                                            love.” he said sensibly, yet sensually, moaning in my ear the whole time. i let him caress my nipples, with my perfectly formed brest under neath his strong, huge, Japanese, hands. “how about,” he murmured, and there were only TWO people on earth who could speak in this way: Kylo Ren – who was – “HEY FUKIN REN HURRY UP WITH THAT FUCKIN’ TEA, U PUNK-FUKIN BIOOOOOOOOOOOTCHHHHHHHH” i called to kylo ren.

                                                                                                                                                (a faded, but sexual moan of      wanting                to            fuk         de           toris       but         he           cant       becuz    he           mekin   fukin      tea,        was the only response.

 

 

                                                Guatemalan ears.

 

“OI! KOILO!” i shouted in an angry Brummie accent, “mek dat fukin tee or il fukin kil la like ya kild                                                                              ya FUKIN’ dad, han FUKIN’ solo, from FUKIN’ star wars!!”                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                a painted wimper of frustration, tinged with pineapple (because the writer of dis story, by tah fukkin wheh, was eatin a FUKIN pineapple-flavoured sweet. it tasted lit, fam.)

 

followed. I plucked up all my gritty FUKIN courage of the FUKIN’ suburbs of FUKIN’ hel, and bellowed down dose FUKIN stairs,

                                                “IF YU DONT MEK ME MA FUKIN TEA, I WILL FUKIN MEK YAH EAT FUKIN TO                                        MATSU’S FUKIN SHIT OF DAT FUKIN BED, AND DEN I WILL FUKIN KILLA WITH                                      MY FUKIN FEMALE DICK. BECAUSE I AM A FUKIN WOMAN, BUT IN THIS

                                                STORY, I HAVE A FUKIN DICK, JUST FOR THE FUKIN PURPOSE OF FUKIN A

                                                FUKIN CRYBABY CALLED KYLO FUCKING REN, WHO WONT MEK ME MAH

                                                                                                                                                                                FUKIN’

                                                                                                                                                FUKIN’ 

                                                                                                FUKIN’

 

*deep breath*

TEA!!!!!!

.

 

The light doe goes black.

                A word appears on my screen.

is says, o Lo, it says:

 

Serbian Sausage

.

 

 

suddenly I remembered: slide. moon. greed. Toris laurinatis. the nations Italy. my father is a polar bear. damien kohls’ FUKCING trainers in the FUCKING trainer shop in FUCKING wales. Tamotsu Fukada, who is not my dad. Lies. Pan. Great forgiver. the city of Snow. FUCKING aloe vera bottle on my FUCKING desk in FUCKING wales. the great and unnatural taste of pepperes. Levi Ackerman. Kylo Ren. FUCKING pan. in a FUCKING basket. at FUCKING comic con. in FUCKING wales.

and many more.

 

 

                “…A broccoli.”

                A picture of a broccoli was there, on the Ipad, in front of a Toris, not a Greg, and the Kylo, not the Greg, was very very VERY confused.

 

***

 

                It was 10am a nd we had finally managed to board the ferry. My best friend Lyra was there. But she was smol. I USED to be smol, but no I ma smoller. Kylo ren was there. Murtog was there. Dusty was there but im a bit weird wiv him becuz I didn’t like the way he roze from the dead and was suddenly good at everything. I mean, I don’t want todie.  I even if it mean si lll be good at stuff. oh well.

                the ferry was moving. I made out with mortog. he were hawt, man. then tomato fucker called me over

                “Toris.” he sed in his rich  baritone

                “wot.” I replied.

                “there are dark clouds on the horizon.” and he pointed. ang guess what, he was right. there WERE dark clouds on da horizon. they were the same dark clouds that attacked my twin brother, Carlos Buckysbuttocks.

                Kylo ren came out of the kitchen, wearing his maid outfit. he looked at the clouds. all he sed was “oh shit.”

                “Tomato Fucker.” I asked the hottest man in Japan “hey dat rhytmes!!!!”

                “Yup” he replied.

                “Where is the Tengo? I mean, Aomame has been mentioned.  But Tengo is my fave – I mean, I mean apart from you of course. YOU will ALWAYS be my fave. But Tengo is also a cool dude.”

                He looked at me gravely “Tengo has been turned into a broccoli” he said, looking at me gravely.

                “Why? I don’t want to eat Tengo. I mean, I want to EAT Tengo, but I don’t want to EAT Tengo!!!!!!!!!! Tengo is a very nice man!!!!!! I love him!!!!!! I can’t accidentally eat him in a stir fry!!!!!!!!!”

                “but when you find the broccoli you will know that it is Tengo.”

                “O rly?” I asked suddenly

                “yurp” he replied.

                “So there is absolutely NO change that I would accidentally eat him in a stir fry???”

                “Nope.”

                “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” but then I forgot and said something else. “why did he have to be turned into a broccoli?”

                “I dunno.” Leader replied. “I just thought it might be a fun thing to do.”

                “Okeh.”

                “Anyweh. Lets talk about dis stuff wiv those dakr clouds n shit.”

                “Okeh.”

                “So, what yeh have ta do, is yeh have to tell em to fuck off.”

                “Okeh.”

                “Yeh have ta go up to em and just say ‘fuck off’.”

                “Okeh.”

                “Got it?”

                “Yeh.”

                “Gud.”

 

                So the dark clouds got nearer and nearer. Kylo ren almost shat himself. but that was just a normal reaction.

                When they were directly over the boat, Toris climbed up to the top of the boat (there are no health&safetly regulations in the newly discovered kingdom of West Drèma), and sed to de dark clouds,

                “Oi!”

                The clouds paused for a minute, and sed in a deep, deep voice,

 

“wot.”

 

                Toris replied, “what’s yer name?”

                The clouds paused for a minute, and sed,

 

“Paul.”

 

                So Toris said, “Paul?”

                The clouds replied,

 

“wot”

 

                And Toris replied, “Fuck off, Paul.”

 

And Paul fucked off.

 

                And for the rest of the way they had a safe journey.

 

                “So.” Tomato Fucker said himself, Toris, and the crew of the ship were all huddled around a warm fire, drinking hot choclety milk as if they were spiders. “That was sum gud work, Toris.”

                “Yup” sed Toris.

                “Now, all we need to do is to find Carlos, and then find Tengo, who has been turned into a broccoli.”

                “Sure.” Said Toris.

                “Toris,” Leader said, his voice VERY serious now, “you will be waking up in a few moments. But when you wake up, you will not forget any of this. It will seem like a very strange dream, but you will remember that you MUST find this broccoli. But fear not: you do not need to search high an low for the broccoli. Like my daughter, Eriko Fukada, said in Volume 3, ‘[he] may be closer than you think.’ One day, you may wake up, and find that the broccoli has been bought by your mother, Toris Buckysbuttocks Senior, from Sainsbury’s, and is now in your fridge.”

                “Really?”

                “Yup. And remember: whenever you need help, all you have to do is look for us. We will guide you back to the safe place. Me, Levi, Kylo, Mortog, and all the rest of us, including Poe Dameron, will help you. You called for us when you were sick, and we came and helped you. All you need to do if you are ever in trouble is to call for us again. We will always be there, looking out for you, protecting you. You will never be alone – I mean, not in a creepy way, but I mean, in a nice, friendship sort of way. Is that ok?”

                “Whet?” Kylo ren said in his American accent, because he couldn’t hear the rich baritone of Tomato Fucker’s voice over the sound of the movement of the boat.

                “HE SAID IT’S HALF-PAST-FOUR LOVE!” Toris screamed down his ear.