Kingdom Farts

by Scott Lysander

The release of KHII has led me to unearth a parody of the original Kingdom Hearts I wrote some years ago. The humor can be a bit offcolor, and parts of it aren't very wellwritten, but it's good for a few chuckles. Rated T for lots of things. R&R, yo.

Critical Acclaim for Kingdom Farts

"Utterly hilarious...sexual and grammatical humor is rampant." Skot Lysander

"A great read for anyone who needs a laugh." Skot Lysander

"A sure bestseller...provocative...charming." Skot Lysander

"I loved it! It made me laugh!" Dante Alighieri

Chapter 1: This Is My Island!

I've been having these weird thoughts lately...

Like, is any of this for real or not?

Or, why don't I even go to school?

Or where the hell did I put my garlic bread?

Or WHY THE HELL AM I THINKING ABOUT THIS? WAKE UP!

Sore opened his eyes and looked about bewilderedly. He found himself standing on a stain glass floor depicting a girl with skin as black as pitch.

"Where am I?" he asked to the darkness surrounding him. When no answer came, he stepped forward.

A light shot toward him from the unseen ceiling above. Sore slowly moved toward it, but the floor abruptly shattered into nothingness.

"Shit," Sore stated quite calmly as darkness ate away at his person.

He awoke to find himself on another stain-glass floor, this time with a picture of a blonde-haired girl next to a stagecoach that strangely resembled a pumpkin.

Sore, being too stupid to recognize the Disney™©® reference, stepped forward furtively. Suddenly, three platforms erupted out of the ground. One bore a sword, one a wand, and one a shield.

Power sleeps within you, a voice said to Sore. You must choose one power and give up another. Choose well.

Sore, being who he was, took the sword instantly and told the shield to screw itself. The shield screamed and crumpled up into a microbe before slithering away.

There will be times you have to fight, the voice said. And since I'm a sadistic kind of guy, I'm going to sic some shadows on you.

A number of shadows appeared around Sore. They took shape and became small, bug-cat-like creatures.

Sore whacked away at them with his sword and killed them easily.

Damn you! the voice yelled. Now I'm pissed.

The floor was quickly replaced with a black hole. Sore fell into the hole, kicking and struggling as he sank into darkness.

Payday's tomorrow, and I'm getting tired of this tutorial, so let's just get to the big finish, the voice sighed.

Sore stood on a circular floor depicting a woman with blonde hair holding a rose, thorns coiling around her.

He saw a light again. Sore slowly tromped toward it, but the voice spoke again. The closer you get to light, the greater your shadow becomes.

Sore looked behind him, where his shadow had become disproportionately large. "Well, whaddaya know!" Sore cried. "It speaks the truth!"

Then the shadow stood up. "Well, damn," Sore murmured, reaching for his sword.

His shadow sprouted dreadlocks and grew twenty feet tall. There was a gaping hole through the shadow's anus...the sign of the Fartless.
Sore pulled some crazy-ass moves on the shadow's hand before the shadow got pissed and gobbled him up. "NOOOO!" Sore yelled.

Sore blinked. He saw blue sky overhead. "Oh, man..." he grumbled. He sat up and saw the ocean before him, and laid back down in the sand.

Kylie's face appeared over him. "Whoa!" Sore cried out as he sat up quickly.

"Gimme a break, Kylie," he said.

Kylie laughed. "Sore, you lazy bum. I knew I'd find you snoozing down here."

"No," Sore answered quickly, "This huge, black THING swallowed me up! I couldn't breathe, I couldn't—ow!" He rubbed his head.

"Yeah, sure," Kylie replied. "Have you been dreaming?"

"It wasn't a dream! Or was it?" Sore shook his head.

"You really should lay off the angel dust, you know," Kylie said. "Feed it to your pit bull, or something. He probably needs it more than you."

"Jeez, that's pretty bold coming from a girl who's named after an Australian pop star with an oversized ass."

"That doesn't even make sense!" Kylie cried. "And I've told you, a kylie is—"

"A boomerang." Diku approached the pair, smirking like a little shit-eating twat. "So, looks like I'm the only one working on the raft." He threw the log he was carrying to Sore; instead of catching it, Sore watched it promptly make contact with his head. "And you're just as lazy as he is," Diku said to Kylie.

"So you noticed," Kylie laughed.

"I notice everything that you do." Diku grinned.

Kylie's smile faded. "Bite my ass, you white-haired goober. What're we doing today?"

"UgHUAAH?" Sore sat up after having been knocked out from the log's impact.

Diku spoke up: "All right, we need to get our shit together. I'll get a branch, some logs, and the rope. Sore, you get a few logs, a cloth, and the other rope. Kylie...you can just stand around and fondle yourself. We'll give the stuff to you."

"Hey!" Sore cried. "Who elected you dictator?"

"Don't question it," Diku said. "It's alphabetical."

Diku and Sore ran around the rest of the day, collecting provisions and challenging each other to duels with sticks whenever they ran into each other, which was about every 45 seconds. Concurrently, most of the day was spent doing stupid duels that didn't solve anything instead of collecting materials, while Kylie watched and sighed and wondered if they would break their sticks over each other's heads. Yeah, that would shut them up. Men. So charming at times, yet so stupid at others.

The other three on the island, Tidum, Whackoff, and Self-esteem, clubbed each other with oars until they drowned. A fitting end for such needless characters.

On that eve, the three sat on the tree that hung over the small island closest to the sea. Diku was prattling once more about seeing other worlds. Sometime during the day, he had picked up a German accent.

"Unt ve vill find all of ze vorlds, unt ve vill take zem, and zey vill follow ME! Der Führer! Unt ve vill keel all of ze dammt Dizney characterz! Follow me, mein menschen! TO VAR!"

As Diku performed the sieg heil and promptly sprinted over the edge into the water, Sore sighed and jumped onto the tree, straddling the limb.

"Did he just say 'my human beings'?" Kylie asked.

"Yeah..." Sore answered.

Kylie looked at Sore; as she did, Diku called from the water: "Hey! Zis is not Stalingrad!"

"Isn't this supposed to be some sentimental, emotional part where we talk about journeying to other worlds?" asked Kylie, flipping through the script.

"Yeah...but—ohshit!"

Diku had suddenly sawed off a good portion of the tree, causing Sore to careen into the water. Kylie sighed, jumped off the stump that was left, and walked away as Diku and Sore slapped each other in the water.

The next day, they spent some time collecting provisions, i.e. finding mushrooms, catching fish, finding dark, hooded men in cavern corners...all that stuff.

Sore sat in his room, looking at the crudely fashioned model ship that hung above him. He heard Kylie's words in his head again and again:

I just can't wait...once we set sail. It'll be great.

Actually, Kylie never said that, but it sounded good.

He heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. Sore looked out the window and gasped.

"A storm?" he cried.

"Yeah," the storm replied. "Right over your damn island, too."

"Oh, no! The raft!" Sore jumped out the window and sprinted to his boat.

"Sore? Dinner's ready. Come on down. Sore?" his mother called.

"God damn it," she muttered. "Ungrateful child...always off getting high over at that damn island..."

Hey! That's not your line! You're just a crappy, two-bit character! the voice said to her.

"I'm an actress!" Sore's mother retorted. "But NOOOO! Too RISKY, daddy said...well, I'LL show DADDY! I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!"

She went on to be a serial murderer and ended up on death row with a tall, mustachioed Polynesian man named Wingalopopo.

Sore swiftly tied his boat to the dock. He saw two other boats next to his. "Diku's boat! And Kylie's!"

He ran forward and broke through a horde of shadows.

"Oh, man! Not those again." Sore sprinted onward.

Eventually, he found Diku, standing under a large ball of darkness which seemed to be swallowing everything up.

"Diku!" he cried.

Diku turned and faced Sore, his eyes ablaze.

"I have turned and faced you, my eyes ablaze!" Diku cried. "The door hath opened," he continued. "We shall go to other worlds! Come, Sore!" He extended a hand.

"What about Kylie?" Sore asked.

"She's coming with us!" Diku retorted.

"How?"

Diku opened his mouth to answer, but he rubbed his chin and knitted his brow. As usual, he lost a stitch. "Uh...I don't...yeah, uh...well, screw Kylie. We're headed to the Isle of Lesbos, where honey-eating bugbears and naked lesbian nymphs abound!"

"Yeah," Sore agreed, "I don't think Kylie would be interested."

Diku zapped out of existence. Sore found in his hands a long, sword-length, stainless-steel...

"Dildo?" Sore cried, looking at the artificial penis in his grip.

Sorry, but the damn Keyblade's been copyrighted, the voice said. And we're tight on the budget. Just...work with it.

Sore examined the dildo. The handle was gold, with a keychain bearing two small circles connected to a larger one.

He was readying to make a snide comment when hundreds more shadows came out of the ground. Sore quickly swung around and sent all of them flying.

He glanced at the dildo. "Cool."

Sore sprinted away, quite obviously knowing that Kylie was at the secret cavern. As he rushed inside, he saw Kylie before him.

"Kylie!" he cried.

She whirled and glared at him. "Sore, God damn it! Where have you been? I—"

But she spoke no more, for the door behind her quite abruptly flamed into a vortex of darkness. Sore lost sight of Kylie, and he was flung back and saw no more.

Sore awoke to find himself on a piece of sand. The black ball was quite closer now, and he turned to see that same dreadlocked Fartless.

"With this mighty dildo, I can defeat the fiend!" Sore cried. "I will smite...uh...wait...where..." he looked about. His dildo had disappeared.

"Well, fuck."

Everything proceeded to be eaten by the darkness, including Sore. Everything, that is, except a small potted plant, who sat stubbornly in nothingness and refused to cease to exist. As far as we know, it is still there today.

Chapter 1.5: King Mackey Leaves

Ronald Yuck's hat wobbled around as he plodded through the long corridor of Disney™©® castle. He approached the doors leading to the throne room and went inside.

"Good morning, your Majesty!" he said in a garbled duck accent. "It's very nice to see you this—WHA?"

King Mackey's throne was vacant. Ronald stared in surprise.

Mackey's faithful dog, Hades, crept out from behind the throne, bearing a king-sealed letter.

The letter read:

Dear Ronald and Goofbag,

It has recently come to my attention that:

The stars are going out, one by one.

The dildo-bearer has returned.

I could really use a grilled cheese right about now.

I've left the castle to try to find out why the stars are blinkin' out...and to get a decent grilled cheese. I need you two freeloaders to find the dildo-bearer for me. We need that dildo!

P.S. – Tell Mini to clean the house. And make it snappy.

Ronald, after having read the letter, quacked frantically and rushed out to the garden.

In the castle garden, Goofbag, the captain of the royal knights, snored contently. Ronald waddled up to him and yelled, "Wake up, Goofbag, wake up! This is serious!"

Goofbag snored and rolled over. Ronald, who was rather easily pissed, summoned from the heavens a divine bolt to shock Goofbag awake. Unfortunately, he summoned a little too much, and half of the garden was quickly burned.

"Gawrsh, what is it, Ronald?" the awakened Goofbag asked, scratching his head.

"We got a problem, Goofbag! But don't tell anyone!"

"Not even Queen Mini?"

"No! It's top secret!" Ronald quacked.

"What about Pelargonium?" Goofbag inquired.

"NO!" Ronald nearly sent another lightning bolt.

"Uh...g'morning, ladies!" Goofbag waved to Queen Mini and Pelargonium Buck, who stood right behind Ronald.

Ronald chuckled nervously and dodged a falling cinder from a burnt tree.

"...and that's why I love Rice Krispies," Goofbag said, finishing a seven-hour monologue.

Ronald awoke first. "Oh, well, good, Goofbag! Now let's go and find the dildo-bearer!"

"To chronicle your travels, he will accompany you," Mini said, gesturing at the table next to her.

"Gawrsh, I didn't know tables could write!" Goofbag commented.

"No, me!" a small and horribly ugly bug in a suit and top hat hopped about the table. "Locust's the name. Jiminy Locust!"

Ronald blinked. The locust hopped off the table and skittered toward them. "And maybe I'll find my pal, Pinocchio! He must be out th—"

Ronald promptly squished Jiminy, Goofbag tripped over the ground and giggled, Queen Mini sighed, and Pelargonium shook her head.

Ronald looked from his ship made from Gummi Bears to the two chipmunks, Flake and Valley.

"Are you sure this thing works?" Ronald asked.

"Yes! Made from quality cut, prime, grade-A gummi!" Flake squeaked as Valley rolled around like an idiot.

"Okay!" Ronald replied and smiled. "Come on, Goofbag!"

The two hopped in the Gummi ship and prepared to take off. "Blast off!" Ronald cried as the doors opened.

Abruptly, the floor collapsed. In the brief moment while they were suspended in air, Goofbag said, "Aw, shucks."

They tumbled downward and came out the anus of the castle before speeding away.

Chapter 2: The Rest of the Game

Sore felt something wet. He opened his eyes and saw a large, yellow dog before him.

"Whoa, what a rush." Sore grinned dumbly and fell back asleep.

Hades jumped on him and tried to tear out his jugular. "Jesus!" Sore yelled, pushing the dog off. Hades barked and trotted away.

"Ugh...where am I?" Sore stood up slowly and looked around. He was in a dark, cramped city, with the night sky shining above.

"Oh man...I'm in another world!" he cried, shortly before reeling into a wooden crate and breaking it.

Sore headed out of the alley he was in and into the main district. He looked up at a sign that read:

TRAP-HERS TOWN

Population: 17 and still growing!

Sore wandered about the district, a well-lit city with few people but no shadows. He eventually pottered into the Accessory shop, which he should have done earlier if he hadn't been so damned stupid to not notice the bright flashing arrows reading "IN HERE, SORE! IN HERE!"

He opened the door and saw behind the counter a blonde-haired fellow with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"#$$¡™£¢•¶#!" the man stated as Sore approached him.

"Whoa, dude, that was so bad that the author censored it!" Sore cried.

"Yeah, yeah. Name's Sid. Whaddaya want?"

Sore told him that he was lost and looking for his friends. As he finished, Sid suddenly changed into a pudgy, balding man with owl-like glasses.

"Well, Sore, I hope you find your friends, but there's not much I can do," the new Sid stated.

"How did you...?" Sore gaped at him. Sid then changed into a short and ugly ladybug-like creature.

"You didn't think the Cids of the Final Fantasies were all different people, did you?" the ladybug inquired. "I am Sid, and I am all Cids!"

"Right..." Sore replied. "Well, thanks for your help."

"Yeah, sure!" a bald, bearded Cid replied. "And use my ship whenever you want!"

Sore blinked, and then decided it was due time to leave. But before he left, he turned to the most recent Cid and said, "Oh, yeah. Your daughter's a slut."

"WHAT WAS THAT?" Cid yelled.

"I said 'Your potter's the smut!'"

The first thing he was greeted with when he came outside was a group of shadows. "Ah, crap," Sore said. But he found he had his dildo with him. He whacked them away with ease.

As the last one fell, a voice spoke to his left: "They'll keep coming at you no matter what, so long as you wield the Dildo."

"Huh?" Sore turned to the speaker.

"And since you wield the Dildo, they'll keep coming at you no matter what." The man had shoulder-length brown hair and dark attire. He held a sword with a trigger on it. "Now...let's see the Dildo."

"What?" Sore cried. "There's no way you're getting this. It's mine! My own! My precioussss!"

"C'mon, gimme the Dildo. I'll fight you for it."

"Oh, I thought you meant my other dildo," Sore replied. "Sure, you can look at it." He tossed the sword to the man, who cut him down with it.

"Ow!" Sore cried as he fell backwards.

"I think you overdid it, Squall," a girl's voice called.

"That's Peon," Peon said as he turned to face the girl. She was clad in skimpy, hip-hugging short-shorts, a midriff-exposing green shirt, and a yellow ninja-scarf. "I've told you that before, Sluffie."

"So...this is the Dildo-wielder?" Sluffie looked at the unconscious Sore.

"Yep," Peon replied. "Looks like things are worse than we thought. A lot worse."

"Should we wait here 'til he wakes up?"

Peon shook his head. "Drag him to the Inn. Now, woman."

Sore sat up. He turned and gasped.

Kylie stood at the side of the bed. "You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sore replied. He rubbed his head. "I'm so glad you're okay, Kylie."

"Listen, one more comment about my ass and you'll find a shruiken up yours."

Sore's vision cleared and he saw that he was not talking to Kylie but a black-haired ninja slut. "Huh? Oh..."

"All right, where're the mushrooms?" Sluffie asked.

"Gawrsh, sure is spooky out here!" Goofbag said to Ronald as they walked through the alley below the inn.

"Aw, phooey." Ronald shook his head. "Nothin' scares me!"

Approximately 2.37 seconds later, he quacked and hid behind Goofbag.

"Except Mandy Moore?" Goofbag asked.

"Oh, shut up and follow me." Aeristhsth said.

"But why?" Peon muttered. "Why did the Dildo choose a kid like you?"

"Yeah," Sluffie agreed. "Usually it picks skanks, wiggers, and Geraldo Rivera, none of whom really know how to use it. Hey, have you ever heard of somebody called Pantsem?"

"Pantsem?" Goofbag inquired.

"Yes," Aeristhsth answered. "He was a scientist who was researching the Fartless. Eleven years ago last Thursday, he stopped at a Chevron for a smoke and was never seen again."

"So what does this have to do with the Fartless and me?" Sore said after the clever double-scenario conversation.

"Not much," Peon stated. "We just needed a part for Billy Zane...er, I mean, he made a report of the Fartless."

"The report should say how to stop them," Aeristhsth said. "And stop with the damn scene changes. You're confusing the reader."

Sore leapt up from the bed, causing a chain of events in accordance with the chaos theory leading to Al Sharpton becoming president of the Moon. "But where are my friends? I have to find them! Diku! Kylie..."

"You know what?" muttered Peon as he leaned against the door. "I really don't know."

Sore was abruptly possessed by the author and went on a social rant. "You know something? It's really not that special to be reticent. Come on. You and your damn New York cool. I mean, Squall only smiles three times in Final Fantasy VIII! And people seem to think he's the greatest badass ever. What the hell? Did I miss something? Is it really that cool to be an asshole?"

"Shut up," Peon agreed.

Abruptly, Heartless stormed in the room, throwing eggs at everyone they saw. Leaving Sluffie and Aeristhsth to use their feminine wiles to scare off the Farltless, Peon threw the door open (promptly smashing Ronald) and ran out the other door, beginning to pull some crazy moves on meager little Fartless. Sore followed suit. Ronald, in the mean time, was crushed behind the door. Goofbag giggled and surfed out of the room on his shield.

In the Third District, Peon had disappeared without reason. Sore swung the dildo around viciously, sending Fartless all over the place. High above, Ronald and Goofbag were dealing with just one.

"I'll take him down!" said Ronald. Unfortunately, he once again let his magic become as bad as his temper, and the ledge collapsed. Ronald and Goofbag miraculously landed on Sore, who broke six ribs and tore his arm in half.

"The dildo!" Ronald and Goofbag cried, looking at the dildo in Sore's wriggling fragment of arm.

Sore duct-taped his arm back together and said, "You must be those two fags Peon was talking about."

Before any further conversation could occur, an overgrown seahorse fell out of the sky and flopped about violently.

"This is the boss?" Sore asked.

"Ah, we can take him," Ronald said. The seahorse purred loudly.

Goofbag threw his shield at the animal. It sliced it open in a spectacle similar to Lupin the 3rd's Goemon throwing his sword at a bridge and somehow cutting it in half. In other words, rather impossible.

The seahorse writhed in the grip of agony and dissolved. Sore saw an annoying red bar flash in front of his face. "Level up!" It read in annoying white print. "Strength plus! Learned Dodge Roll! Only $362 for one year (plus $96822 for S&H from Neptune), so call now! 30 minutes or it's free! And remember, if you can't get help at Charter—"

Sore waved the infomercial out of his vision.

"So," said he, turning to Ronald and Goofbag. "You were sent by the king to find me, the dildo-wielder?"

"Yup!" Goofbag said. "We gotsta find the Buttholes of all the worlds and plug 'em up!"

"That's how the Fartless are getting in," Peon said and nodded. "They come through the opening in the world's anus. Where they came from before, though, nobody knows."

"Except for Pantsem," elaborated Aeristhsth. "And we don't know where he is...unless, of course, you take your Gummi-bear ship and jack around in it until something happens."

"Will do!" Sore saluted and staggered away.

The ship made of gummi bears quickly made contact with a checkered world, bearing a flashing sign that read "WELCOME TO WONDERHAND." Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag jumped out and immediately started to slowly fall. Sore and Ronald lightly touched the floor, whilst Goofbag came crashing down at one mile an hour.

As soon as they stood to their feet, a black rabbit in a suit scrambled past them, holding a battered pocket watch.

"Oh, I'm late! I'm late!" the Black Hare cried, unaware that his pocket watch had stopped working three years ago. "Oh, the Queen, she'll have my tail for sure! No time to say goodbye, fuck you! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

The trio observed the thing sprint through the door before them. "Well!" Sore said robustly, "Let's go."

They were soon quite small and facing an irritable doorknob with dried bubble gum stuck on its forehead, assuming doorknobs have foreheads.

"You woke me up," the doorknob grumbled. He yawned wide, and the body of Jimmy Hoffa could be seen inside his mouth.

"How can we get inside?" Sore inquired.

"None shall pass," the door boomed in a deep voice.

"Well, Sore, why don't we try that door over there?" Goofbag gestured at a much more inviting door to the left.

"Sure." Sore nodded, and the three crept inside. As they disappeared within, a yellow maw of teeth appeared on the table, grinning evilly...

The young girl trembled before the wrath of a butch-like Queen, garbed in robes of what appeared to be flesh-colored sausage.

The Black Hare scrambled up to a pedestal next to the Queen and quickly blew a trumpet. "The Queen of Intestines, presiding!" he heaved.

"FUCK YOU!" the Queen screamed, promptly throwing the hare into a bush, which munched on him happily.

"THIS BITCH TRIED TO STEAL MY FART!" the Queen roared, pointing at the young girl. "THERE'S NO DOUBT ABOUT IT!"

"But don't we need a fair trial?" Palice said quietly, miffed at continually being referred to as "the young girl."

"NO!" bellowed Guess Who.

"We gotta stop her," Sore said. Ronald caught him before he could move, however.

"No! We can't do that!" he cried.

"Yeah!" Goofbag said. "That would be muddling! And we gotta protect the world border!"

"That's meddling. And order," Ronald corrected.

"Well, screw you, flit!" Goofbag giggled happily.

"Stop!" Sore cried at the Queen, who was now throwing her royal darts at anything she saw, including herself.

Sore stated, "Excuse me, but we know who the real culprit is."

"BULLSHIT!" the Queen bellowed. "HATH THEE ANY PROOF?"

Sore had none.

"I have none," observed Sore.

"I see that you have none," the Queen added.

"We have none?" Goofbag asked.

"Shit," Palice agreed.

Sore, Goofbag, and Ronald were wandering through the forest looking for any evidence they could find. After finding a seraph hastily eating a massive stack of white flapjacks in a corner of the forest, they were encountered by a yellow-tooth grin.

"I know what you're looking for," the Cheshire Dog stated. "But the shadows will try to stop you. Are you ready? I hope so." He faded away into nothingness.

"I hate dogs," Ronald quacked.

"Relative of yours?" Sore said to Goofbag.

"Uh...no," Goofbag answered. "Gawrsh, in fact, I don't think I'm even a dog. Ronald, what am I?"

"The master race, of course," Ronald stated.

They presented the following evidence to the Queen of Intestines: frankincense, myrrh, frambesia, goiters, the 8 moons of Neptune, and the Yin Yang Twins.

"What in the HELL does this mean?" the Queen inquired.

"It's all we could find," Sore said.

"Get out of here!" the Queen yelled. "Out! Out! You too!" She pointed at the Yin Yang twins, who were happily munching on goiters.

"Well, now what do we do?" Ronald asked despondently.

"Looks like we take down this guy!" Sore pointed towards a massive beaver stomping around, created entirely out of paper and Lego blocks and wearing at hat that read "WARNING: I AM A BOOZER."

"The dreaded Hickmaster!" wailed the Cheshire Dog. "Take him down, and the shadows will fade!"

Sore, fortunately knowing how to construct and deconstruct anything out of Lego blocks as a child (his creations included a Lego ship, a Lego car, and a Lego particle accelerator), jammed his dildo between the Hickmaster's haunches. The Legos shattered, the paper crumpled, and the oversize beaver screamed.

As the beaver disappeared, Sore's dildo started to move of its own will. "Whoa!" Sore cried as he was dragged along with the dildo. It flew towards the doorknob, fit inside, and started to pump.

"Oh my God," Sore said. Abruptly, a blinding light shot out of the dildo's tip and locked the door.

"Wow!" exclaimed Goofbag. "Divine jizz! What won't they think of next?"

Sore stared at the door for a moment, and then spoke: "We're never telling anybody about how this works."

The gummi ship skidded in an attempt to avoid the massive building flanked by huge, golden Greek soldiers, but Ronald sucked at drifting, and they promptly crashed.

As Sore flung the doors open wide, they were greeted by a sign: WELCOME TO OLYMPUS COLISEMEN. NO SOLLICITING TICKETS AND/OR HAND JOBS.

In front of them there stood a nasty-looking, middle-aged clown satyr. He was undoubtedly relieving some weird fetish by rubbing the walls when Sore greeted him.

"Ayuh," said Sore.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the clown satyr said. "Yeah, yeah, a hero. Call me Pill."

"We're here to compete—" Sore began, but Pill was managing a rather unconvincing epileptic fit.

"Oh, darn," he said while shaking on the ground. "Looks like I'm dying, can't help ya. Lay me down in front of the cherry tree, oooo. Ooog." He stopped moving.

Ronald quacked and kicked him. "All right, all right!" Pill snapped, adjusting his clown nose. "You can start in the preliminaries."

Just then, a shady-looking blond in a red, tattered scarf wielding a huge, bandaged sword slowly strutted by.

"Look!" cried Goofbag. "A shady-looking blond in a red, tattered scarf wielding a huge, bandaged sword slowly strutting by!"

"They call him Vapor," Pill said. "I wouldn't trust him with a string. Dangerous, that one."

"What's this?" Heckules cried, storming in. "Filling more youth with your crazy ideas?" He abruptly gave Pill a noogie. "Pill, what've you been telling them?"

"Hey, you're Sam Gamgee from those movies!" Sore pointed accusingly at the character voiced by Sean Astin.

"Huh?" Ronald quacked.

"Gawrsh," Goofbag added.

"Look!" Heckules cried as he pointed into blank sky. Whilst the others turned to look, he quickly shuffled away.

"All right, all right," Pill said. "Let's get started by having you fight that Vapor kid."

"But what about the preliminaries?" Sore inquired.

But before Pill could give an answer, an unseen wind swept Sore into the arena much similar to the way it did to Will Halloway and Jim Nightshade in Something Wicked This Way Comes, the incredible dark fantasy by Ray Bradbury. (All right, I did my publicity spot, now where's my money?)

Vapor stood hidden behind the steely gates looking over the arena.

"So, all's ya gotta do is kill this kid!" a 9-foot tall, blue-flame-headed, rather ugly god named (properly) Pluto said.

Vapor started, "Kill him? Sorry, but my contract says—"

"I know! Okay? I know what the contract says. But hey, we're all sadists down inside, right? Don't you wanna see a little pain and suffering? Really?" Pluto asked.

"Uh...no."

"Shaddap!" Pluto wrenched the gate open and threw the blond swordsman into the arena.

"Whoa, lookit that guy!" Sore cried, gesticulating flamboyantly at Vapor.

"Hey, isn't that Vincent's hand...?" asked Goofbag.

"Let's get him, guys!" Ronald cried.

"Ho!" added Vapor, who, in the time that the three had been talking, had charged up his Sonic Rave and was now flying towards them.

Sore promptly found Vapor's sword in his stomach. He stumbled backwards and fell to his knees.

"GAH!" Pill cried. "What're you DOING? You're not dead! It's a game! Pound this loser!"

But when they looked up, it seemed Vapor had been replaced by a large, black paw.

"Whoops!" yelled Goofbag.

"Aw, phooey," added Ronald.

"ROAR," suggested Catberus.

Heckules ran in and threw the massive kitty against the wall. "Pill! Get them outta here!" he cried, picking up Vapor and running away, squealing like a woman.

"I got two words for ya, kid," Pill cried. "Attack, watch your HP meter, stick to the sides of his head, equip Goofbag's MP gift, glide away when you need health, and Dodge Roll the fire breath!"

Catberus crumpled to the ground. "I'll be back," he growled as he sunk into the floor.

"Yeah, yeah," Pill said, who had recently slipped in. "Didja see those critical hits of mine? Yeah, kid, I took him down!"

"Uh, sure, Pill," Heckules stated as he walked in. "Look, take your junior hero licenses and get outta here."

He threw some primitive clay tablets at the three and grabbed a mop.

They were steering the gummi ship along when the ship happened upon a jungle.

"Hey, Ronald, maybe King Mackey's down there," Goofbag stated.

"In a backwater place like that? No way!" Ronald cried.

"Why not?" asked Sore.

"I'll tell ya why not," Ronald began.

The next morning, Ronald was just about finishing up. "...and so, the cream is working quite well, but the swelling of my colon still hasn't gone down enough."

Sore and Goofbag drowsily awoke. "Where were we?" Goofbag asked.

"I think we were about to have a big argument," Sore murmured sleepily.

"Oh, right," Ronald said. "Uh...you can't steer the ship! You'll mess it up!"

Sore lunged at the controls and the two had a skirmish. As the ship did barrel rolls and some impressive maneuvers similar to those a Russian ballerina would make, Goofbag sighed, "Gawrsh, I coulda sworn this scene didn't last as long in the game..."

A few minutes later, the ship utterly exploded.

All three of them were hurtled in different directions. Goofbag miraculously landed on a soft hippo, Ronald miraculously landed on top of a tent and bounced off, and Sore miraculously landed on...wood.

The laws of gravitational physics caused him to fall through the roof of the treehouse, and he landed with a thud on the ground. Somehow unhurt, Sore staggered up and waved his dildo around menacingly.

"I'll get those d-damn bunnies," he grumbled, his eyes pulling all over the place.

Suddenly, a large jaguar jumped through the roof and charged at Sore. Sore whacked him away frantically with his dildo, but that would not be enough to stop the menacing jungle fiend.

Things were looking their blackest when a muscled, well-built ape-man wearing a loincloth jumped on the jaguar and rescued Sore.

"Ack, ack, oooook," the man said calmly as the jaguar called Sober sprinted away hissing.

"Uh...I'm looking for my friends," Sore said.

The man grunted.

Sore tried again. "Do you speak English?"

"&/64," the man stated.

"What?"

"x)VIII", he continued.

"Damn, if only Bill Cosby were here, maybe he could understand."

"Damn," the man repeated. "Bill Cosby. Damn."

Sore looked at him, hesitated, then grinned. "Bitch," he stated.

"Bitch," the man repeated, grinning as well.

"Shit, fuck, cunt, motherfucker, cocksucker, tits."

"Shit, fuck, cunt! Motherfucker, cocksucker, tits!" the ape-man repeated happily.

"Banana! Banjo string! Beaver cleaver! Beaver lever! Beef bayonet! Bell-end! Boaby! Boner!" Sore counted off all of the colloquialisms starting with B that mean penis that he could think of.

The man repeated these words.

"Very good!" Sore cried. "My name is Sore. Sore," he stated, as he pointed to himself.

"Tartzan," Tartzan replied.

"Tartzan, Sore, Tartzan, Sore," Sore said and nodded.

"All right, all right, we get the point," Tartzan muttered. He gorillaed away, and Sore, who was not aware that "gorilla" could be a verb, ran after.

Tartzan aped into the tent as Sore came behind him.

"Tartzan!" Janepanerane cried.

"Sore!" Goofbag and Ronald cried.

"Goofbag! Ronald!" Sore cried.

"Kill all gorillas!" Earthenload cried.

"Cunt banana Bill fuck Cosby!" Tartzan cried.

This statement was followed by a long, awkward silence.

"Oh, you must be Tartzan's new friends. I see you speak English," Janepanerane stated. "This is Tartzan. We're trying to domesticate him from his primitive ape life, but he still flings poo. And this is Mr. Earthenload, our 'protector.'

"Earthenload?" Sore repeated. "What kind of name is that?"

"Well, it seems the author just divided up the name Clayton and found some synonyms for it," Earthenload said as he twirled his black mustachio.

"Ah," Sore said and nodded.

"I'm tired of not having lines!" Ronald yelled. "Can't we hurry up?"

"Yeah," Goofbag agreed. "I hated this part of the game."

"Me, too," the author stated. "Let's just go to the big finish."

Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag had just finished killing off Sober. Tartzan was making a lame appeal to the head gorilla, Kerwhack, and the little mohawked gorilla Turk was running around yipping.

At that moment, Sore heard a rustling in the brush up ahead.

"I hear a rustling in the brush up ahead!" cried he.

The bushes ripped open and there sat Earthenload, sitting on absolutely nothing.

"Kuhmillion!" grunted Tartzan, who knew the evil invisible beast.

Sore threw his dildo down and yelled, "God damn it!" Fortunately, his dildo ricocheted off the ground, hit the Kuhmillion square in the eye, and landed back in Sore's hands.

The Kuhmillion appeared and turned a variety of colors and shapes before it exploded. Earthenload followed suit.

"Thank Mackey that's done," Ronald said.

Suddenly, Sore's dildo started to shake. He grasped its handle as it wriggled violently.

He was shot into the stratosphere. The dildo rocketed up towards space, then turned the other way and plunged down. It led Sore through a number of caves and up a massive waterfall, finally resting before a blue light.

"What is this?" Sore asked to the others, who had somehow gathered around him.

"It must be the Butthole!" cried Goofbag. The dildo rose up and plugged itself in to the world's butthole.

An oscillation of energy swept over the world. The dildo lit up with a fiery flame, and the divine light shot out of its "bell-end", closing off the world from all Fartless.

"™™/8," observed Tartzan.

"Fortunately," said Janepanerane, who had somehow entered into the scene, "I speak a little John Goldsmith, and I think that means 'heart.'"

"Heart," repeated Tartzan. "Friends here, in heart. Friends. Bitch-fuck banana sling-mud."

They proceeded to engage in a fit of giggles. Ronald was the first to notice the Butthole, which was pulsing with some sort of energy.

"Look! It's doing kegels!" cried he, pointing at the quivering Butthole.

"No, it's...it's going to take a poo!" Sore yelled. "Take cover!"

There was an odd squawk, a smell like pig shit mixed with turpentine, and silence again.

On the ground, the butthole had defecated out a Gummi bear. It squeaked and ran around before being promptly smashed by Ronald.

Later, Sid attached the Gummi bear to the ship in a sequence totally unnecessary to this parody.

The horde of mediocre villains sat around a cheap crystal ball in a dimly lit room, smoking casually.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't be a smart move to have this room fully lit, or else way to many characters would be introduced at once," one of the villains stated as he glared at the annoying flickering fluorescent lights.

"Shut up!" yelled another.

"Yes, but wouldn't all the happy little kids playing the game know who we are?" inquired a star-shaped villain.

"Shut up!" yelled another.

"Well, this is a parody," a villain observed. "We can't really use visual effects, and the stupid author gave us all the wrong names anyway."

"Shut up!" yelled another.

"You know something? I really like fish sticks," a fire-headed fellow too obviously identifiable as Pluto stated.

"Shut up!" yelled another.

"Enough!"

The crowd of squabbling villains turned to look at a high platform beyond the table. On the platform stood a tall, glass-jawed green-skinned woman, wreathed in evil.

"All you losers don't even get named in this sequence," Un-Beneficent said quite happily. "Anyway, that stupid twunt Sore is causing all kinds of problems...sealing Buttholes, befriending talking ducks, and otherwise raping, pillaging, and burning."

Un-Beneficent turned towards a tall, dark-skinned sorcerer with a staff fashioned to the liking of a cobra.

"He's headed to your world next," she hissed. "Take care of him."

"You know, if Aladdin were made 10 years later, it would be so politically incorrect," ranted the sorcerer. "I mean, come on. Everybody would call me the allegorical terrorist, the Disney™©® corporation would be accused of being pro-WASP, jihads would start—"

"Conk," suggested a frying pan.

"Oof," added the sorcerer.

"Shut up!" yelled another.

The first thing that Sore saw was a large, obnoxious, Vegas-like flashing sign that said in Arabic: "WELCOME TO AGGRAVATE! ENJOY YOUR STAY! WOMEN WILL BE PERSECUTED!"

"The author is SO going to get in trouble for that," Sore would have said if the ship had not then collided with sand.

The three climbed out and wandered into the city of Aggravate. They soon found the aforementioned sorcerer, Jafoo, conversing with Un-Beneficent:

"Don't steep yourself in darkness to long," Un-Beneficent warned. "Your heart might not be able to handle it."

"Your concern is touching, but hardly necessary," replied Jafoo, grinning. "Observe."

He proceeded to rip his beating heart out. Holding the thing in his now blood-soaked hand, Jafoo took from his robe a vat of burning grease and poured it over his evil black heart. As he placed his heart back inside him, he said, "Well, if I can handle that, darkness shouldn't be a problem. Oh, and have you seen Princess Jazz Mines anywhere?"

"I will not gather wenches for your sick fantasies," Un-Beneficent said coldly as she dematerialized.

"Aw, damn," Jafoo groaned. He, too, dematerialized.

"Well, should we find Princess Jazz Mines?" asked Sore.

"I'm right here," Jazz Mines said as she stepped out from behind some mangos. "And no, I don't have your money, so go back to the Antarctican Mafia and tell them they won't get their Cuban cigars until they hand their vampire bats over to the Welsh, who will then phone up the Phantom of the Opera and get him to make a deal with the Pirates of the Caribbean, who should be able to get the cigars but only after the Indians do their eggbeater dance after the sixth night of the moon festival."

"Uh...yeah." Sore decided to get to the point: "Listen, the script says we're supposed to find some big-nosed loser with a tiny hat and an epileptic monkey next. Where can we find this guy?"

"Oh, that's Paladdin," Jazz Mines said with a casual wave of her hand. "Smells like orangutan. Gravity-defying hat. He's out in the desert getting eaten by Fartless or something."

Just then, a pimped-out animated mat swept towards the group. It landed on the ground and made panicky jabs at the desert.

"What's up, Rug?" asked Jazz Mines.

"I think he wants to take us to the desert!" exclaimed Sore, having an abruptly blinding flash of the obvious. Quite surprised with his new vision impairment, he stumbled forward blindly and landed on Rug, who carried him off to the desert.

Paladdin swore a few Arabic oaths as the sand worm chomped at him noisily. How was he going to get out of here?

He suddenly remembered the magic lamp he had found in the cave just before! He took out the lamp and, giggling like a sick-minded teenager, gave it a rub.

"Kablooie," stated the lamp.

Sore, who had mounted the ridge leading to the sand worm's layer, observed this spectacle with some interest. Out of the lamp erupted blue plumes of mystic smoke, which slowly went into the sky and turned a vomit green. The smoke then exploded into firecrackers and happy-face lollipops.

"Weenie!" Paladdin cried. "Get this thing outta here!"

"Fuck you," said the Weenie of the Vamp. "I hate this job. Minimum wage...cramped quarters...being ordered to fulfill your master's wild fantasies...oh, well, whatever you say."

"Jeez, I thought this guy was way happier in the movie," observed Sore as the Weenie blasted the sand worm into nothingness.

"Look, Weenie, it's those guys from Dukes of Hazzard!" Paladdin shouted, pointing at the trio sitting on the rug.

"Who's a racist?" quacked Ronald.

"Aw, shucks," muttered Goofbag.

"Hey, listen, your woman's back there hiding in a box of mangoes and babbling some weird-ass stuff about the mafia and vampire bats," stated Sore.

An idiotic male presence possessed Paladdin...not that he wasn't an idiotic male already. "Jazz Mines!" he snorted. "What's happened to her? They STOLE her from us! We ought to wring their filthy little neckses...right, preciousssss?" He hissed this last phrase at his monkey, Ablu.

Ablu stared at Paladdin, and then turned to Sore. "You'll 'ave to excuse 'im," the monkey said in a clear Scottish accent. "Ee's blootered 'alf the time, and other's ee's jus stupid."

"Jazz Mines?" called Paladdin, rushing towards the palace gates and brandishing his plastic scimitar. "Jazz Mines!"

"You're too late, boy," called Jafoo, who stood on a sandy rooftop. He held Jazz Mines' wrist in his steely grip. "The princess is mine now."

Jazz Mines began, "Look, my contract says—"

"Looks like you'll have to face my pet, Imago," Jafoo announced. He cackled and threw a red vial at the ground, disappearing in a puff of maroon smoke.

"Who's Imago?" cried Goofbag.

"I thought he was a parrot," replied Sore.

"I believe the dictionary defines 'imago' as a sexually mature adult insect," observed the author.

"Shut up," added Sore.

Out of the shadows there emerged a huge, fire-truck red praying-mantis-beetle cross-breed. As the giant insect skittered towards them, Paladdin looked between its large limbs.

"Holy jobby! Now those are some big plums!" shouted Ablu, gesturing wildly at the insect's "mature sexual organs."

"CAN'T WE JUST GET TO THE FIGHTING?" cried Gilbert Gottfried, whose voice seemed to be coming out of the insect's mouth.

"Look! A black lamp!" yelled Ronald, pointing at the lamp in Imago's mandibles.

"Jafoo's lamp?" inquired Goofbag.

"Of course! Who else would want more power?" noted Sore.

"I tell ya, bein' a Weenie blows," observed the Weenie of the Vamp.

Ronald threw his staff at the lamp. The lamp shattered into thousands of pieces. The Imago shrieked and turned into a miniscule clown with a moss-green beard and yellow hair. As Ronald squished it, a large red Weenie erupted out of the desert and gave the entire city of Agrabah the middle finger before disintegrating into stars.

"Hooray!" cried Sore.

"What about Jazz Mines?" Paladdin whined. "What about her? I'm not—"

But he was soon impaled on the dildo, snorting and spluttering. Instead of bleeding, strange yellow goo came from his innards...lemon tart.

"Thank you for ending this hopelessly pointless sequence," commented no one at all.

"My pleasure," nodded Sore.

Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag were chugging along in the Gummi-bear ship when a large shadow appeared behind them.

"It's a whale!" cried Goofbag.

"In space?" quacked Ronald.

"Maybe it's a space whale," suggested Sore.

"Brilliant," said the whale, shortly before eating them.

Printed in large letters on the ceiling of the maw of the whale was "WELCOME TO MONSTROLL, SPERM WHALE DELUXE."

Goofbag was readying to make a stupid and immature joke about the phrase "sperm whale" when a piece of wood fell on him.

The party looked up to see a little boy made of stainless-steel and fiberglass.

"Hi! It's me! Peniichio!" called the unreal child. "Come and meet my dad, Pimpetto!"

"I know how this is going to turn out, and I don't like it," stated Sore. "Hey! Monstroll! Do us a favor and vomit!"

But it was too late: an old Italian man in a deep purple suit was approaching them. "Buongiorno. I am Pimpetto. Where are my Italian bitches?"

Sore started to scream and beat against the uvula of Monstroll. Unfortunately, this didn't make him vomit; instead, the whale just got irritated and let out a mighty fart, thus washing away all of his innards.

"Well, thank Mackey that's over!" giggled Goofbag. "That has to be the most annoying sequence in the game!"

"Look," said Ronald. "It's Pacifica!" He pointed at a large ocean contained within a reef.

"Hey, shouldn't we—"

But Sore was not able to finish, for the Gummi-bear ship promptly met the water.

"Kick-ass, I'm a shark," Sore said.

"No, you're a merman! And why the hell am I an octopus?" whined Ronald.

"Hee! I'm a sea turtle!" exclaimed Goofbag.

"Whaaaahelloooo." Sore said this as he turned to view the object of his abrupt change in speech pattern.

"Hi there!" cried Aerial, blissfully unaware of Sore staring at her...'clams.'

Aerial turned and called to the obese fish and taciturn crab behind her. "Hey, Splatter! She-bashed-im! Come here!" She turned back to face the trio. "So...What're you doing here?"

"We came to find the Butth—" Goofbag began

"I came to fuck y—" Sore began.

"We're adventurers from a distant ocean!" interrupted Ronald, glaring at the other two.

"That explains why you swim so weird," noted Aerial. "But that's okay! I'll take you to my overbearing patriarch of a father, Tri-Tone!"

Sore sighed as bubbles spewed out of his mouth. "Sea people are so weird."

As Aerial, Splatter, She-bashed-im, Ronald, Goofbag, and Sore swam away, two yellow eyes appeared out of the thick seaweed.

"We must warn Hersula of the Dildo-bearer," Rubble hissed.

"Yes...but what of the girl?" asked Garbage.

"Hersula might have need for her," responded Rubble. "She is not to be touched."

"Aw, come on!" argued the other eel. "I know this guy in town who'll buy her! We could get some money..."

"Well..."

The two eels grinned in unison. BUUM-bum-BUUUUM!

Aerial took the three into Tri-Tone's palace. As she entered, the sky above seemed to darken.

"You sure this is safe? Your dad's not angry?" inquired Ronald.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him," Aerial replied. "He's just—"

"AERIAL!" a deep, angry voice boomed.

"Oh, shit," stated Sore.

The following events led to a spectacle that the reader can imagine for himself, because the author's too lazy to add in a bunch of stuff describing how Tri-Tone's wrath caused apocalyptic chaos.

Well...

Tri-Tone's wrath caused apocalyptic chaos.

When things were back to normal (yeah right!), Aerial had almost finished arguing with her father about how dinosaurs actually reproduced.

"Don't you see?" cried Tri-Tone. "Einstein disproved the balsa wood theory! They must have laid eggs!"

Aerial shot her father a hateful glance and swam away. "Come on, Sore. We'll leave these heathens to their delusions."

As they swam away, Tri-Tone sighed. "Perhaps I'm being too strict...do you think so, She-bashed-im?"

"Ire, mon!" said She-bashed-im in his Jamaican accent. "Nobody shood be hard on anyone! Love everybody, like de Marley-mon say!"

Tri-Tone glared at the happy little crab. "Why did I hire you again?"

"Cos I can get you de Bolivian marching powdah, right, mon?" She-bashed-im withdrew a Ziploc bag filled with white powder.

Tri-Tone nodded and grinned. "Oh yeah."

As the two happily sniffed their "Bolivian marching powder", neither noticed the vaguely octopus-shaped shadow rising behind them...

"Look, guys!" Aerial pulled something from the floorboards of the sunken ship. "I found a...a..."

"A fork?" suggested Goofbag.

"A fork! Cool!" Aerial waved the utensil around.

"Yeah, sure," Sore sighed. "Look, um, can you help us find—"

"More treasure?" giggled Aerial. "Sure! Let me go find some..."

Sore shrugged to Goofbag and Ronald. "Oh, well..."

Something swished above them. "What was that?" Ronald said.

"Sounds like a big shark that's about to burst through the window!" suggested Goofbag.

"Very keen," said the Horny Shark, who was now at the window of the ship.

"Wait...a Horny Shark?" Sore scratched his head.

The shark smashed through the window. Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag promptly swam up out of the hold and escaped out of the ship.

"Phew!" Goofbag sighed.

"Uh-oh...what about Aerial?" cried Sore.

"Yeah...after all, it was a Horny Shark," observed Ronald.

The shark crashed through the hold where Aerial was hiding. "Fresh meat!" he cried, licking his chops.

"Parley!" yelled Aerial.

"Huh?"

"I invoke the right of parley," Aerial repeated.

"Well...we're not exactly pirates, now, are we?" The shark grinned and came closer to Aerial.

"Uh...um...damn," Aerial muttered as the shark opened his maw wide. "I know! Mimosa!"

The shark recoiled, looking utterly baffled.

"I invoke the right of Mimosa," Aerial said with confidence.

"What the hell is that?" asked the shark.

"According to the clause laid down by Ted Kennedy, any reference to bestiality in a parody of videogames, comic books, or anime can be formally protested by the victim of the action."

"Oh...ok." The Horny Shark swam away.

"There really isn't any Mimosa clause, is there? You just made that up, right?" asked Sore as he, Ronald, and Goofbag approached her.

"No, I'm afraid it really does exist," replied Aerial.

"Aw, shucks," sighed Goofbag.

Suddenly, the Dick Tracy watch Aerial was wearing started to ring. Aerial looked at it and saw Splatter.

"Aerial!" the fat fish cried. "Your dad's been crushed to a pulp by some really ugly purple octopus lady! She stole the trident, and now she's 600 feet tall!"

"Oh no!" cried Aerial. "Quick! To the melodrama!"

As Sore, Ronald, Goofbag, and Aerial swam out of the cave, they quite easily saw Hersula, standing at...well, 600 feet tall.

"MY GOD! IT'S THE LADY FROM THE PUBLIC ACCESS CHANNEL!" screamed Sore.

"You poor, pathetic fools!" Hersula roared with a voice deeper than Barry White's. "I rule the seas now!"

As the huge obese abomination blabbered about why the Nazis were great, Aerial spoke to her Dick Tracy watch. "Splatter! What's her weakness?"

Splatter thumbed through the glossary of Disney™©® villains quickly. "Here it is! Hersula...her weak spot is...her left earlobe!"

"What?" asked Aerial. But Sore was already rushing towards Hersula's ear, his dildo ablaze with...well, with limit-break power.

Sore slashed off the earlobe. Hersula screamed, and her black blood became mingled with the water. She turned a variety of shapes and colors before exploding into thousands of those little kazoos with ribbons on them that you get at birthday parties. You know the ones.

Where Hersula had been, there was a hole in the sandy ground. Just as Sore recognized it as the Butthole, the Dildo flew out of his hands.

As the Dildo worked its magic, Sore turned to Aerial. "Well, I guess we're done here..."

"But what about the eels?" asked the fully restored Tri-Tone, looking back several pages. "Resolution, please?"

"Well..." the author shrugged. "If you insist."

A group of Goodfellas drove up in a limousine and ushered Aerial into the car. She was led away to a harem, where men paid good money to do horrible yet pleasurable things to her.

A happy ending...I suppose.

As the Gummi ship puttered along, Sore spoke.

"Hey, I wonder what Diku's up to?" he asked. Just as he said this, he saw a large pirate ship sail away. Inside, he saw Un-Beneficent poisoning Diku's mind with lies while Kylie slept unconscious next to them.

"Oh." He nodded.

Suddenly, the Gummi ship ran into a thick fog.

"Visibilty low!" Ronald quacked. "VFR not working! It's time to go...IFR!" He donned some aviator goggles, grabbed the wheel, and proceeded to crash.

The trio climbed out the ship, which had seemingly fallen into a lake. The fog was thick and white, and Sore caught a few glimpses of thick forest around them.

"Where...are we?" he said.

They heard rustling behind them. They turned to face the noise.

The mist parted to reveal a short, green-skinned humanoid, hobbling along with a senile grin on his face.

"What the hell?" observed Sore.

"Yoda, I am. Much to learn, you still do have," the green person said.

"I am so outta here," Ronald said, starting the Gummi ship back up. "Let some other loser train to be a Jedi."

About three seconds after having left Degoba, the ship approached a world in autumn. Red and yellow leaves covered all the ground, and turkeys ran about gobbling.

"Huh?" Goofbag grunted as they stepped out from the Gummi ship.

"We're in...in..." Sore stared at the world around him.

"WELCOME TO THANKSGIVING TOWN!" an ecstatic little mayor said, hopping toward him. "I'm Mayor Schiz O. Phrenic, and I welcome you to our town!"

Suddenly, a myriad of Indians, Pilgrims, turkeys, and totem-pole creatures sprang up and began to sing:

Boys and girls of every age

Wouldn't you like to see your first quarter grade?

Come with us and you will be seeing

This our town of Thanksgiving

This is Thanksgiving! This is Thanksgiving!

Turkeys gobble in the middle of the day!

This is Thanksgiving! This is Thanksgiving!

Pilgrims and Indians acting so gay

Give some thanks! Eat dressing!

In our town of Thanksgiving!

I am the one eating all the roast ham

Teeth all gone and a face like a clam!

I am the one teaching you to plant maize

Getting really pissed at the farmers every day!

This is Thanksgiving! This is Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving!

As they turned away from the singing and dancing crowd. "That was pretty lame," observed Sore.

A nine-foot tall Indian danced toward the group. "How," he said. "My name Chief Jack Turkeyton."

Jack proceeded to do a jig. Ancient Indian Fartless spirits rose around him, hopping to the unseen drums.

"Nice, nice, very nice," Sore said, waving the apparitions away. "Look, can we talk to somebody with some sense?"

"Try Dr. Pilgrimstein. He help you. Now I go to store. Buy Pepsi Vanilla."

As the Indian lurched away, Sore looked toward a large log cabin. "This must be the place," he said.

The three entered the cabin. Sitting by a large hearth, reading the book How to Force People onto Small, Cramped Spaces and Make Profit, sat a small man wearing a goofy hat.

Sore was about to make a witty comment involving political correctness when the door behind him burst open. Jack danced in, arms full of Vanilla Pepsi cans.

"Ah, you're back! And you brought friends as well?" said the Doctor, closing his book.

"Bah-cha-cha. Bah-chobits-chah-chobit," stated Jack calmly.

"He tries to pretend he doesn't understand me," the Doctor muttered to Sore. "Stupid git." Then, raising his voice, he said: "Look, Jack, I'm trying to animate these Fartless to dance with you, but I think they need a heart. I have most of the essential ingredients: construction paper, pencils, crayons, and glue. All I need are some scissors...do you think Silly might have some?"

Jack nodded. "Cho-bah-chobit."

"Good. You can take your compatriots with you. Unless, of course, they'd like to hear one of my lectures on why Satan is rampant and we're all going to burn in hell..."

Sore, Ronald, Goofbag, and Jack sprinted away, quite frightened by the Puritan ways.

Shortly thereafter, the Doctor returned to his reading, waiting for the group to return.

Suddenly, three ugly midgets, Cock, Fock, and Sterile, hopped out and sabotaged the cabin! They knocked the Doctor out of his chair and wrought havoc.

"You won't get away with this, fools!" the Doctor cried.

"Ah, shut up! Your people are going to lose that war with us later anyway!" yelled Cock.

"Yeah, stupid British loser! No one likes you!" added Fock.

"I like fruit," observed Sterile.

The three stole the doctor's construction paper and pencils. Sterile drank the glue, Fock ate the crayons, and Cock sprayed odd graffiti on the walls. Giggling maniacally, the three ran away quickly.

When the group returned, they found the aforementioned mess. The Doctor was lying on the floor, the graffiti was running down the walls, and glue was everywhere.

"Doctor! Who done this?" Jack cried, forgetting his fake Indian talk.

"It was those Boogie Oogie's bastards," coughed the Doctor. "You must destroy them. Avenge me, boy! Avenge me!" He shook violently a few times, vomited a fully developed gnu out of his mouth, and then went into rigor mortis.

"I needed a line in this part," Sore whined as the gnu galloped away.

"Me too," said Ronald.

"Me too," said Goofbag.

"Me too!" giggled Boogie Oogie, who had just eaten through the roof of the cabin.

"Boogie Oogie!" Jack growled. "Give me back heart!"

"No!" the pillow retorted lamely.

"Okay," replied Jack. He walked away quietly.

Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag looked at each other. "But...what about the boss for this level?" asked Goofbag.

"Well...what say we go out, murder a few chickens, and call it done?" Sore suggested.

"Sounds good. Oh, and let's get some lemon daiquiris too," added Ronald.

"Yay!" they cried in unison. Boogie Oogie, who was actually a machine in the Matrix, lost his purpose thereafter, and, in accordance with Agent Smith babble, exploded into bugs.

While recovering from their hangovers on the Gummi Ship, Ronald glanced in the rear-view mirror and quacked loudly.

"What is it?" asked Sore.

"It's a huge pirate ship that's about to ass-rape us," explained Ronald.

"Oh, I can hardly wait," Sore muttered. "All right! All hands brace for—"

He said no more, as the Gummi Bear ship proceeded to explode.

When Sore awoke, he saw a starry night sky overhead. He could hear the waves, the creaking of wood, the screaming of tortured Hispanics...he was on a ship, all right.

He sat up and saw Diku standing before him. Around him were Fartless Pirates, brandishing their sharp rapiers.

"Diku!" Sore cried. He strained forward, but his hands were bound.

"Quiet, you brat!" snarled a tall captain next to Diku. He had massive black hair, a huge plumed hat, obviously fake sideburns that he constantly fondled, and a paperclip for a right hand.

"I see you've awakened, Sore," Diku stated. "While you've been off playing with your new toys, I've been trying to save Kylie."

"What, she's here?" asked Sore.

"Yes, but she's soulless. The only way to get her back is through the Fartless!"

Sore listened to this, and responded, "That is the single most illogical thing I've ever heard."

"Shaddap!" yelled Diku, throwing a few hard-boiled eggs at Sore. "Take him below," he said to Captain Paperclip.

"Don't give me orders, brat!" snapped the Captain.

Diku was suddenly surrounded by a black flaming wrath, growing huge in its might, dwarfing the meager being that was Captain Paperclip.

"Er...right away, sir!" mumbled Paperclip, cowering in fear.

Sore suddenly fell through a trap-door. His bonds were broken, but he was still falling. He passed through quite a few floors, whirling around slowly. Sore caught glimpse of a young, mildly ugly girl in a blue dress, a bunch of Fartless Pirates, an African-American version of himself, Kylie, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse playing a friendly rubber of bridge.

After these somewhat disturbing images, Sore finally came to rest on top of Ronald and Goofbag, who happened to be directly under him. As he landed with a crash, the trap-doors above him snapped shut.

"Well, whaddja find?" asked Goofbag.

"Kylie's alive, but barely," Sore said. "Diku's siding with the Fartless, I have an African-American clone, and my hot dog is burnt. Things couldn't be any worse!"

At that moment, a somewhat homosexual fellow in green tights jumped out from behind a barrel. "Yoo sound liyk yoo need some help!" cried Pan of Peter in a nasal voice, his stupid cap falling off his red hair.

"You had to say it, didn't you?" Ronald grumbled at Sore.

"How can you help us?" asked Sore.

"Well...I kin't. But I kin fly!" exclaimed Pan, doing swan dives through the air.

"Impressive," noted Goofbag.

"Well, I eavesdropped a little bit earlier, and it sounds liyk yoo've got a girl in trubble!"

"Well...yeah, you could say that." Sore looked at the ground.

Pan was silent for a moment and then said, "Yoo wish."

"How would you know?" Sore retorted. "Your sexual organs never maturate anyway!"

"Things are diffrint in Alwaysland," mumbled Pan.

Suddenly, a traffic-cone-orange light flew in and whizzed around frantically, making weird jingling noises.

"Wut's that, Teenkur Slut?" Pan asked, watching the light in front of him.

"Tinker Slut?" repeated Ronald. As Sore looked closer, he saw that the light was actually a voluptuous blonde fairy wearing tight and revealing clothes.

"What in the hell..." Sore stated. The fairy gave him a promiscuous wink, and Sore recoiled in horror.

"Wut's that?" continued Pan. "Windy's in trubble? Captin Paperclip on dek? My grapes are eetin?"

"Uh...is she really speaking, or are ya just makin it up?" Goofbag asked, since Pan seemed to be responding to random jingles.

"Dr. Kevorkian is on the third floor an has resurrected Ho Chi Minh?" Pan gesticulated wildly.

Tinker Slut shrugged, indicating that Pan was, in fact, utterly insane.

"Cummon, Sore!" cried Pan. "Let's git outta here!" He proceeded to throw himself at the door, suffering a moderate concussion and tumbling to the floor.

"Thank Mackey he's down," said Ronald. "I couldn't stand that annoying voice."

Sore lightly kicked at Pan's limp body. "Yeah. C'mon, we better find Kylie." Abruptly, an orange light shone in his face.

"Yeah, you can come too. No sex toys until after I'm finished, though."

Sore threw the door open and sprinted in heroically, Ronald and Goofbag at his heels. He whirled about wildly and faced his target...Diku, Kylie, and Sore's African-American clone sitting around playing cards.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" yelled Sore. "Didn't you get the cue?"

Diku tapped his cigarette lightly and responded, "It's break now, dumbass. You came in at the wrong time."

Kylie pulled off her card-dealer's green visor. "Go back, and we'll take five. Run in then."

"Uh...okay, gotchya," replied Sore, scuttling out of the room.

Sore threw the door in and sprinted in heroically, Ronald and Goofbag at his heels. He whirled about wildly and faced his target: Diku!

"Diku, you ass!" cried Sore. "Siding with the Fartless will never work!"

"I think not," replied Diku, holding an unconscious Kylie in his arms. "I've learned a few tricks along the way, such as...this!"

He threw his fist into the floor, and a shadow appeared before Sore. The shadow grew quickly, reached Sore's height, and melted into Sore's African-American clone.

As Diku ran out the door carrying Kylie, Sore drew his dildo dramatically.

His black clone said nothing for a moment, then spoke, saying: "You dumb cracka! I only got 2 tangs dat I do around herr: cast some spizells and bust caps in sucka's asses—and I jes ran outta MP..."

"Hey!" whined Ronald as Black Sore withdrew two 9mms. "That's not fair! We don't get guns!"

"Ha," laughed Sore. "Guns are for losers. We're beyond g—AAH!"

Black Sore promptly planted a round into Sore's chest. Sore slowly fell backward, clutching at air. Black Sore fired four more shots, ensuring Sore's death.

Goofbag half-giggled, half-screamed and ran around like an idiot until Black Sore plugged him in the head. Ronald flipped out and quacked loudly shortly before Black Sore fired the rest of his rounds into his stomach.

Black Sore holstered his guns and looked down at the three corpses in disgust.

"Mission accomplished...stupid-ass machine teapots, yo." He melted slowly into the ground.

A few hours later, Pan climbed up from the hold. He came into the cabin and saw the three lying in blood, riddled by bullets.

"Oh, no!" cried he. "Now I kin't find Windy! He has the kee, but...I kin't yooze it!"

Pan floated over to the dead group and looked at Sore's dildo.

"But then...if he's dead, then why kin't I yooze it?" A malicious grin spread over Pan's face as he reached for the dildo...

"Set course for Empty Stronghold," ordered Diku.

Captain Paperclip adjusted the wheel and said, "But what of Windy? What do you need with her?"

"Un-Benificent said she's not one of the seven," explained Diku. "We don't need her. Toss her overboard...or molest her, if you're so inclined. I don't give a damn."

"Goody," said Captain Paperclip, clapping his hands together and subsequently tearing his glove apart.

"Now as for---ow!" Diku cried in pain, jumping back. From below the floorboards rose a steel dildo as Pan leapt up.

"Haha, eevil feends!" snorted Pan. "Taste my steel!" He flew forward and missed Captain Paperclip entirely, running headfirst into the wall. The Fartless gaped at him as he writhed on the ground. Suddenly, one began to chuckle. Several more started to laugh as well. Pan scowled at the rising chorus of laughter, and with a rather ugly expression, he got up and tripped over the floorboards, spilling pixie duest everywhere. The entire deck roared with unbelieving hilarity. Diku sighed and shook his head. Captain Paperclip joined in the laughter. Pan turned red and leapt up, abruptly colliding with the mastpost above his head. The crew and Fartless were rolling around on the deck, laughing uncontrollably.

At this point, seeing that no one was paying any attention, Ronald, Goofbag, and Sore, who had been resurrected by a handy Phoenix Down from Tinker Slut, proceeded to beat some heads in.

"Fools! They're attacking!" Diku tried to yell if not for the ear-splitting laughter from the Fartless. Ronald summoned a storm of fire that killed off half of them, and Goofbag decapitated some with his shield. Sore quickly ran over to Pan.

"You better let me," he said, grabbing the handle from a miffed Pan. It turned out some pixie dust had been left on the steel, and Sore found himself being lifted up.

"I can fly," he muttered. He hesitated for a moment, hovering over the half-fighting, half-laughing Fartless. As Pan knifed Captain Paperclip, Sore zoomed away and disappeared into the clouds, a dark expression taking his face.

Diku whirled about wildly, realizing that Sore was nowhere to be seen. He quickly picked up Kylie and ran towards the nearest lifeboat, escaping the melee below.

"Ow," commented a supposedly soulless Kylie as Diku placed her roughly in the boat. He grabbed an oar, swung out, and started to descend. Diku looked to his left and said dryly, "Oh, shit."

Sore was reaching speeds in excess of 14,000 mph. He swung around slowly, making a huge arc, his dildo pointed out in front of him.

The clouds parted in front of him. There was the ship. He braced himself. He connected.

The ship proceeded to explode in all directions.

When the dust settled, Ronald, Goofbag, and Sore had all somehow ended up in the Gummi Bear ship once again.

"Holy Jesus, that scene lasted way too long," commented Sore.

"Yeah, and it wasn't even half-important," added Ronald.

"Gawrsh," noted Goofbag.

Ronald turned on the windshield wipers as the remains of Pan splattered against the ship. Tinker Slut, who had survived the onslaught, smoked casually in the corner, playing with herself.

"Say, what became of Diku and Kylie?" Sore wondered out loud. "I guess I took them down, too..."

Little did he know that they had just passed a small lifeboat, trucking slowly through the regions of space...

The Gummi Bear ship skidded to a halt in front of a huge, twisted castle, surrounded by ice.

As Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag stepped out, they looked up at the sign embedded in the ice. It was written in the language of the ancients:

"Hwaet, loreum ipsum diego

Greatdane tampa jormungandum

Dolores tollulah corolla lockhart!

Whoza fraida vurjinya woolf?

Sahib, esta enamorada tampa

Dunkeldorf clorox chapparal timorandum

Twain, Habbakuk, Sanders, y Garcia,

Copkilla getsa hisa wysch!

Nimrod pennyfarthing burbling

Chippewa nadar konichiwa magilla.

Fifatee kay reebaete sails

En Feynil Fantusee Uleven!

Apocalypse trudgeon chee-toes

Peanutbutter jihad, amigo.

Peanutbutter jihad."

"What does it say?" asked Goofbag.

"The cars are always moving as fast as the cars. The cars are the cigars. The cigars move faster than the trains. Therefore, I am glad to watch the reruns of Pimp My Ride. Only on the barrel in Sweden will they not grow to the old. Britain versus France is a dangerous farthing. Welcome to Empty Stronghold," translated Ronald.

The three journeyed up the moving icicles, finally reaching the top. There stood Diku, who had stopped by Dick and Rick's Boat Shop and acquired a motor, thus getting there before them. He was facing a ten-foot tall werewolf with horns.

"So let me get this straight," said Diku. "You...walked here?"

"It wasn't that hard," growled Animal. "I simply believed..."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" ordered Diku. "You believed this! You believed that! Well, guess what? Your girl's in here and she isn't coming out! Believe that!"

Animal roared and leapt forward. Diku withdrew a sword and cut him down easily.

"Damn," muttered Animal.

"Damn!" added Sore.

"Damn," noted Ronald.

"Shucks," agreed Goofbag.

"Fags," suggested Diku.

As Animal moved out of the way, Sore approached Diku. "Well, Sore...we meet again.

"You've always been rivals, you and I. You've always pushed me, as I've always pushed you. But today...it ends! Let the dildo decide...it's true master!"

The dildo started to waggle out of Sore's grip. "Huh?" cried Sore. The dildo vanished out of his hands and appeared into Diku's.

"Un-Benificent was right," said Diku. "You don't have what it takes to save Kylie."

"Bu...wha...I...hu...fe...sh..." Sore stumbled backwards.

Diku grinned. "You were just the delivery boyEEEEEAAAAAGH!"

Ronald smashed Diku in the pickle. Diku fell over backwards and whined on the ground, holding his damaged manhood.

Sore strode over and picked up the dildo. "Never try to steal a man's dildo," he warned, brandishing his dildo in Diku's face.

"This isn't over," growled Diku, melting into the ground.

"Well, as if that hasn't been done enough!" giggled Goofbag.

"Yeah," agreed the author. "Seems like a lot of people melt into the floor in this parody."

"Come on, Sore!" roared Animal. "Let's kick some ass!"

The four of them ran toward the castle and, finding no stairs leading to it, fell off the ledge and plummeted into the water thousands of feet below.

They entered the entry hall a few hours later, cold and still wet...and drunk. Before them stood Diku, in a weird Death Hawaiian outfit. On his chest was the symbol of the Fartless.

"So...we meet again," laughed Diku.

"Uh...yeah, we've kinda known each other for 14 years," responded Sore.

Before Diku could respond, he started to cough. The dildo clattered to the ground as it fell out of his grip. Diku clutched at his throat, around the voice-box area, and dropped to his knees.

He made a few hacking noises and coughed up what appeared to be a deformed ballet slipper.

"Holy shit! He coughed out his larynx!" noted Animal.

"No, you fools!" cried Diku in a much deeper voice. "I have taken control of the child's vocal cords!"

"That voice," Ronald said.

"Yes, it is I!" Diku laughed, spinning in circles as he levitated. "The Seeker of Darkness...BILLY ZANE!"

Off stage, a few sporadic claps came. One person hollered feebly.

Diku frowned. "Let's try this again, shall we?" said he.

"Yes, it is I!" Diku laughed, spinning in circles as he levitated. "The Seeker of Darkness...BILLY ZANE!"

Wicked black darkness erupted out of Diku's body, enveloping the whole room in total evil.

"That's more like it. Now—huh?"

Diku found the dildo to be out of his grip. Sore now waved it around happily.

"Yay! Hours and hours of fun again!" giggled Sore.

"Well, I didn't need to know that!" observed Goofbag.

"But...didn't you get it back earlier?" wondered Ronald.

"Well...let's just let it slip as a dumb plot hole," said Sore, shrugging.

"Ouch," agreed Diku. Sore, in his glee, had swung the dildo right into Diku's stomach.

Diku ripped it out in a Devil May Cry fashion as dark blood spilled everywhere. Heaving, he scrambled away into the back-regions of the castle.

Sore sighed, picking up his blood-stained dildo. "Well, that certainly was a—hey, what's with Animal?"

Animal was staring at a wall, smiling in an odd way.

"Répugnant," said Animal. "You're so...so beautiful!"

Because the quality of the parody was getting so low, Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag left the room without even making any witty comments.

Diku ran past the six cells. In them were Palice, Jazz Mines, a fish wearing a blonde wig (Aurora Trout), an extremely ugly French girl (Répugnant), a girl with skin as black as pitch (Pitch Black), and a Japanese chick with huge pink hair (Send-her-ella).

"Why?" Diku sobbed. "Why? It was mine! MY OWN! MY PRECIOUSSS!"

As he reached the top of the stairs, he tripped in his tearful stupor. He landed next to Kylie, laying unconscious next to him.

Un-Beneficent cackled before him. She read a spell in the Old Arcane Speech: "Hocus Pocus! Loco Parentis! Jackie Onassis, Dino de Laurentiis!"

(Literally, 'O purest of hearts, reveal to me the Butthole.')

Seven beams of light shot towards the wall before Un-Beneficent. The wall exploded loudly, revealing a newly formed gate to Hell.

As Un-Beneficent happily munched on tortured souls, she was oblivious to Diku going into convulsions. He was surrounded by a vomit-green light, yelling something in Billy Zane's voice that sounded something like this:

"AYEEEEEEAAAaaaaGgGHHHHZYKFSFSSHKSSSFHMXXNLLLLLLLLLLLL!...LLLLLLL! LLLLL!"

After this mildly excruciating experience, Diku stood, his eyes clouded with red wrath. In his hand rested a steely black dildo...

There was general racket from behind them. The noise of Goofbag squealing could be heard, followed by 6000 plates breaking and Henry Kissinger mumbling about flights to Orlando being so damned expensive.

"The rabble has come, it seems," said Un-Benificent. She turned to Diku. "Here, try to open this Butthole while I deal with them."

As she walked away, Diku rose up over Kylie, his fangs bared and his eyes glowing...

Ronald was sending fire blasts everywhere. Goofbag was slicing heads with his shield. Sore...was reclining in a stone hollow, smoking a cigarette.

As Un-Beneficent entered the room, Sore leapt up, suddenly recognizing the room from an earlier scene in the parody.

"I suddenly recognize this room from an earlier scene in the parody!" cried Sore lamely, looking at the flickering fluorescent lights.

"You fools!" boomed Un-Beneficent. "You think you can defeat me? Me, the Mistress of All Evil?"

As she finished saying this, a colorful banner unfurled, reading "Mistress of All Evil." A few horns blatted out lame entrance songs, and a bit of confetti fell to the floor.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, then Un-Beneficent said, "Right. Let's get to the fighting."

Hours later, both teams exhausted, Un-Beneficent withdrew into a pool of darkness that formed in the floor.

"Think we should jump in?" asked Goofbag.

"No, let's sit out here for a while and have a pointless and absurd debate concerning the ethical quandaries of the Tootsie Roll," replied Ronald.

But neither was listened to, as Sore's dildo had already dragged him into the pool of darkness. Ronald and Goofbag followed obediently...for if there master was lost, then who would there be to beat them and give them pleasure?

The author was then mercilessly beaten by Sore for implying that Sore was gay. Sore wished to announce that he wasn't truly gay, simply 75 straight and 25 gay. A bisexual, if you will.

Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag stood before Un-Beneficent and Diku.

"If I'm not mistaken, that looks like the Negroid Anti-Dildo 3004," Sore observed, gesturing at Diku's weapon.

"Yes," replied Diku in his Billy Zane voice, "A fine model. Crafted using only the flesh of African-Americans."

"Holy shit, that's horrible," observed Un-Beneficent.

"Of course, it's been modified some to perform tricks such as...this!"

Diku spun around and thrust the anti-dildo into Un-Beneficent. Immediately, coffee flooded on to the floor. Diku laughed maliciously and disappeared.

Un-Beneficent fell over, shuddered spasmodically a few times, and then was still.

"Wait, she's dead?" Ronald quacked. "What kinda boss is that? We didn't even have to—BWAAAA!"

Un-Beneficent promptly exploded into a colossal maggot. The greenish-white aberration flopped around wildly, spewing vomit everywhere and making noises not unlike a wildebeest running through a gauntlet of demonic chimpanzees wielding sharp knives, only to be processed through a meat grinder and then consumed by Russians. In other words, quite a racket.

"The hull is too thick!" cried Sore, whose dildo bounced off the rubbery skin of the maggot with ease.

"Never fear! Operation Dumbo Drop in effect!" Ronald grabbed a radio transmitter, muttering about having to include Dumbo in the parody or else lovers of the movie would get pissed.

"Release the elephants!" Ronald commanded into the radio. The ceiling of the dome-like structure they were in opened, and a large herd of elephants came tumbling down, crashing on the maggot.

The maggot was only slightly annoyed and gobbled up the elephants in a few bites.

Sore swore quite loudly. His dildo, mishearing his command, took his interjection to be the chant for the ice spell, and shot off a small blizzard of ice at the maggot.

The maggot shrieked, burst into green flames, crumpled, played leapfrog with itself, shrunk, went through a number of hellish transmutations, and died.

Where the maggot had been, Ho Chi Minh scuttled away quickly. Goofbag casually tossed his shield at the small Communist and killed him easily.

"So, uh...what're we doin' now again?" Goofbag inquired, scratching his head.

"Coming to fight me and try to seal the Butthole," suggested Billy Zane from nowhere in particular.

"K!" exclaimed Sore, running straight into the pool of darkness.

As Sore, Ronald, and Goofbag pushed the door open, they found themselves in a white marble hall. Plainsong organ music played in the background, and light streamed through the windows.

"What the...?" Sore stared around him in confusion.

"Look!" Ronald quacked, pointing forward.

In front of them, a white-haired man wearing a red trenchcoat was talking to a gargantuan statue.

"Again I must face a Sparda," rumbled the statue in an awesomely deep and powerful voice. "Strange fate, isn't it?"

"Strange and ironic that it will end the same way," growled Dante, his grip on his sword.

The statue rumbled with laughter. "Irony has favored you this time. Look there." A light shone on the wall behind Sore. He looked towards the wall and saw an attractive brunette chained to the wall, wearing tight-fitting black clothing.

"Trish!" yelled Dante, stepping forward.

"Don't even think about it," roared Mundus. "Blink...and she dies."

"YOU!" Dante whirled about in wrath. Suddenly, the statue fired three blades at Dante, causing him to bleed profusely.

The statue giggled for a while and began to power up a huge energy beam. "Fools! So sad that humans will always be humans, no more. Has the Sparda blood been spoiled over the ages?"

"Oh shit!" cried Sore. "Run!"

As they ran out of the hall, the walls began to rumble, and the doors before them began to close. Fortunately, Sore had Dodge Roll equipped and nimbly avoided danger.

He stood and brushed himself off, stepping back into the dark halls of Empty Stronghold.

"We all here?" Sore asked.

"I'm here," replied Ronald.

There was silence.

"Goofbag?" said Sore.

"Goofbag? GOOFBAG!"

"Dante!"

Trish woke and broke her chains that tied her to the wall. Swooping lithely to the ground, she hardly noticed the presence behind her.

Goofbag watched in dumb awe as Trish shoved Dante out of the way and took the energy blast. Time seemed to slow, and Trish slowly fell backward.

"Trish! No," growled Dante, holding her lifeless body.

The statue rumbled with laughter again. "Useless scum... Failure is one thing, but taking an odd behavior like that..."

Dante heaved with rage. As he turned and faced Mundus, Goofbag tiptoed over to Trish's lifeless body.

"Gawrsh, all she needs is a Phoenix Down." Goofbag pulled out a small vial and tipped the liquid into Trish's mouth.

But Goofbag had to withdraw, for the statue was powering up another energy blast. "What is the matter?" laughed the statue. "It is time to end your pitiful life...now!"

The energy blast came hurtling forward. Dante stiffened, and his eyes flashed red. The blast deflected and hit a wall, which crumbled to ash.

Suddenly, Dante was surrounded by a red flame. Goofbag stood by his side. "How much longer are you going to keep zapping? Come out and SHOW YOURSELF, Mundus!" Dante roared.

"Well, our defense system's gone," quacked Ronald.

"I still have to fight Diku," Sore replied. "It's...it's the only way to save Kylie..."

"But we're hopelessly lost!" cried Donald as they turned away from the sign that read TO THRONE ROOM in large letters. "How do we know where to go?"

"My heart will lead me," Sore said, thus inspiring some losers to make a motivational poster.

They walked on in silence for some while, and then Ronald spoke: "You're really ready to die for her?"

Trinity cocked her gun and pressed it into the Merovingian's forehead. "Believe it," she said.

After the random reference to The Matrix and yet another lawsuit from the Wachowski brothers, Sore exclaimed, "I think it's this way!"

For once, he was right: they arrived in the Throne Room, just not in the right place.

"Hey!" yelled Send-Her-Ella. "What are you doing in here?"

"Sorry," muttered Sore, looking out of the glass case at the throne room outside. "Look, we need you to help us."

"Help you?" the Japanese princess said. "No way. Why don't you just ge—hey!"

Sore took the girl by the hips and lifted her. Quickly, he rammed her into the glass, thus shattering it.

As Sore and Ronald scrambled away, Send-Her-Ella cried, "I'm calling the cops!"

The hall started to tremble. Dante seemed unnerved, but Goofbag lifted his shield over his head. The statue became unattached to the giant throne it sat on. As it started to chip apart, the statue leaned forward and vomited light.

The whole shell of the statue exploded. In its place stood a new being.

Zeus—er, Mundus stood tall and glared at Dante. He stretched forward, drew his arms in, and threw his huge wings out, sending him, Dante, and Goofbag out into space.

"Those eyes...deep in them, I see the same light as in Sparda's eyes," growled Mundus, raising his fist.

"Why my mother?" Dante said quietly.

Mundus smiled maliciously. "That useless being? If you need a mother, I can create her. As many as you want. Just like I created Trish."

Dante's eyes flared. "SILENCE!" he roared.

Mundus cried out in wrath and moved upwards. Goofbag sprinkled a little pixie dust on himself and followed. The flames around Dante's body increased...

Ronald and Sore ran toward Kylie. Sore picked her up in his arms. "Kylie! Open your eyes, dammit!" he cried.

"It's no use," muttered Diku, who was reclining casually above the gate to hell. "That girl has lost her heart. She cannot wake up."

Ronald scrambled up to Diku and tossed him a pad and pencil. "Can I have your autograph?" he quacked.

Diku sighed and nodded, scribbling "Billy Zane" on the paper before returning it to Ronald. He continued, "The Butthole of Hell cannot be completed so long as the last princess of heart still sleeps."

Sore looked at Kylie. "WTF? She's a princess?"

Diku grinned. "Thaaaat's riiight! And YOU'RE A PRINCE!" He tossed Sore a Burger King Birthday crown. Sore tossed it aside and said, "Let Diku go! I know you're not him!"

"You're not he," corrected the author, shortly before Sore stabbed him violently.

"But first...you must give the princess back her heart," Diku responded, raising his anti-dildo.

Sore felt his heart sting. It felt like it was exploding with every beat. He clutched at his chest and fell to his knees.

"Who...who are you, really?" he gasped.

"I...am Pantsem, the SEEKER OF DARKNESS!" roared Diku.

"Hey, you've said something like that already!" whined Ronald.

"Ronald," called Sore, withdrawing his dildo, "Do you have my DBZ Gummies?"

Ronald pulled out Gummy Bears in the shape of Dragon-Ball-Z characters and gave them to Sore. Sore gobbled them in one bite and leaped forward. "Eating these gummis makes me wanna fight somebody!" he yelled.

"Bring it," said Diku, brandishing his anti-dildo.

Dante erupted into a demon. Dark green armor covered his body, and he grew massive horns.

Goofbag giggled crazily and airsurfed around on his shield. Before them towered Mundus, making obscene gestures and letting off farts.

When Dante wasn't looking, Goofbag slipped him a Aura Stone. It infected Dante immediately, causing him to transform into a massive yellow dragon. The dragon slammed into Mundus, sending him hurtling to the ground. But as Mundus fell, he managed to strike Dante with an energy bolt, and Dante plummeted as well.

Diku had Sore cornered. He drew up his dildo over his head.

Sore thought frantically. Suddenly he cried, "Look! The Winged Victory of Samothrace!"

Diku whirled around to see the statue, but Ronald pulled him down.

"Whoops," noted Ronald.

"Ha ha!" commanded Sore.

"Shink," suggested the dildo.

"AYIEEEE!" cried Diku, with the dildo in his forehead.

He did not move for a moment, but then his mouth formed into a grin.

"He's unstoppable!" yelled Sore as Diku began to stand up.

"Do you...hear that?" Ronald asked.

Sore listened and heard a faint noise, growing louder very quickly.

"Run!" he yelled, grabbing Ronald by the hand. As they leapt over the railings of the balcony, Mundus exploded through the ceiling, Dante close on his tail. Goofbag whizzed in a few seconds after.

Mundus crashed to the ground, crushing Diku totally. As Dante fired massive bolts of flame into Mundus' face, Goofbag joined Ronald and Sore.

"So what do we do now?" asked Goofbag, watching Mundus and Dante utterly destroying everything.

"We fuck the cheerleaders!" said Sore, smiling.

"..." said Ronald.

"..." said Goofbag.

"Sore!" yelled Kylie, who had magically awoken.

"Kylie!" cried Sore.

"Dante...I will return...and I will rule this world!" screamed Mundus, who was evaporating into the Butthole of Hell.

"Bye," muttered Dante.

"..." said Diku.

"Dante!" yelled Trish, who had magically appeared.

"Trish!" cried Dante.

"God damn it, this is a tedious scene to write," noted the author.

After that, Dante and Trish hitched a ride in the Gummi-bear ship with Sore, Ronald, Goofbag, and Kylie.

After having let Dante and Trish out at their world (Some place called Capcomia), they headed back to Trap-hers Town.

"Tell me what happened," said Peon.

Sore cleared his throat. "Once upon a time," he began.

"Call me Ishmael," said Goofbag.

"My father's name being Pirrip," started Ronald.

"Hear me, O Muse," commenced Kylie.

After some debate, Sore told of how they had journeyed to Wonderhand, Olympus Colisemen, Deep Throat Jungle, Aggravate, Monstroll, Pacifica, Thanksgiving Town, Alwaysland, and finally Empty Stronghold, of how Diku had become possessed by Pantsem and Kylie's soul had been stolen and yet magically restored, and of many other things...

"...and so, the deconstructionist school disproves the existence of individualism as a whole," finished Sore.

"I see," nodded Aeristhsth.

"Well, see if Sid can attach this Gummi bear to your ship," said Peon, tossing a Gummi bear to Sore. "In the mean time, I suggest you go rape, pillage, and burn some more."

"Will do!" saluted Sore, walking out with Ronald, Goofbag, and Kylie.

Peon watched them exit the house back into Trap-hers Town and turned back to Sluffie and Aeristhsth.

"Now...where were we?" he muttered.

"Red 14. $3000," replied Aeristhsth.

Kylie and Sore sat gazing at the water in the secret underground cavern, talking quietly whilst Goofbag and Ronald whacked each other with marble crumpets in the background.

"So...how did you miraculously awaken, Kylie?" asked Sore.

"Well, the sound dampers broke when that huge Mundus guy landed next to me, so the noise woke me up," explained Kylie.

"Ah." Sore nodded and then paused. "But...isn't your line different in the script?"

"Yeah, I suppose I better go through with it," said Kylie, flipping through the script. She cleared her throat and said, "I felt you there with me. When I was in the dark, I could sense you."

"Oh, Kylie," gasped Sore as he popped a humongous erection. "I'm so...so..."

But before he could admit his undying love for her, the mural on the wall opposite them started to glow. A dazzlingly white Gummi Bear rocketed out of a hole in the wall and whacked Ronald in the head.

"This must be the real Gummi Bear," noted Sore, throwing away Peon's cheap replica. "I guess we'll have to go back to Empty Stronghold and seal the Butthole to Hell."

"Can I come?" asked Kylie.

"No," responded Sore.

Kylie frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I'm an overbearing patriarch and you're my submissive bitch it's dangerous, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Oh, all right," responded Kylie, oblivious to the subliminal message. "But be careful. Here, take this." She withdrew a small pendant and pushed it into Sore's hand. He looked at it and saw that it was a tie clip.

"It's always brought me luck," she explained. "I got it off of some guy with a receding hairline and shades. He got kinda pissed, but then this goth kinda guy came in and slaughtered his ass."

Sore shook is head at the all-too-numerous references to the Matrix and said, "It's kinda odd, but...sure, I'll keep it."

Suddenly, a large portion of the ceiling collapsed. They stood and approached the newly formed hole.

"What's this?" inquired Sore.

They were lifted up trough the hole by an unseen force, and the ceiling magically repaired itself behind them.

"Where are we?" Goofbag wondered.

An old man in a cheap blue Halloween wizard's cape stirred in a seat. "Oh, hallo!" he shouted, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "I see dat you haff found mein Secret Vizard's House! Allow me to introduce meinself: I am Churlin, all-mighty Vizard of yore!"

"Uh...okay," Sore replied.

Just then, Al Pacino ran in the door to the house. "Churlin!" he yelled. "Whaddid I tellya about workin' yer magic tricks on other peoples?" He turned to Sore, Goofbag, Ronald, and Kylie. "Howsya doin'?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. "I'm the Godfather. This little German crack head here can't wait to show his little magic to any unsuspectin' passersby."

"No, no, look!" squealed Churlin. "I can do zee magic trick! See, see!" He lifted his arms, and hundreds of aces of spades flew out of his sleeves.

"Yeah, all right," said Sore, waving the cards away. "Look, how about you show some of your mighty tricks to the Godfather?"

As the Godfather ran out the door and Churlin followed gleefully, Sore turned to the others.

"Well, I guess that's taken care of. Now—hey, what's that book?"

He gestured toward an old and dirty book sitting on a table. As they approached it, Sore reached for it.

"Sore! Be careful!" Kylie cried, grabbing his arm.

Sore shrugged and grinned. "Relax. What's the worst that could happeeeEEEEAAAAAAAAGGH!"

As Sore laid his hand on the book, he was sucked into it with a mighty vortex force. The last thing he saw was the name A. A. MILNE in large print. Then there was blackness.

Sore awoke in the middle of a grassy field. Blue sky rolled above him. He sat up and rubbed his head.

"Where am I?" he said.

But before any answer could be given, Sore heard a soft voice saying something behind him:

"Think, think, think, think..."

He turned to view the source of the voice. There on the log sat an obese, yellow-furred bear.

"Sup?" said Sore, approaching the bear, who was poking himself in the head.

"Hallo!" replied the bear. "My name is Finny the Poo-bah, Grand Bear Extreme."

"I'm Sore," Sore replied. "What are you thinking about, Poo-bah?"

Poo-bah withdrew a portable chalkboard and a piece of chalk. "Well you see, I was contemplating Quantum Mechanics." He drew a large smiley face on the chalkboard. "Suppose this board is the world and the happy face is equal to time." He erased one of the eyes on the face. "Now the eye isn't there anymore. That represents the past. The eraser is the function. There must be a constant variable, which is the nose. So, how can we break the laws of quantum mechanics?" Poo-bah threw the board across the field. "The answer? Simple. Quantum mechanics is crap!"

Just then, a huge crashing could be heard in the forest beyond the field.

"Here comes Biglet!" noted Poo-bah, jumping off of the log. A huge shadow fell across the field. Sore looked up and stumbled backward. A colossal pig came thrashing out of the forest, snarling and roaring.

"JE SUI VIRIL!" roared Biglet. "PEU MON COURROUX!"

Sore rubbed his head. "Oh my God, this place is like what a barn owl sees when it's on acid...look, can I talk to somebody with some sense?"

"That'd be me," said a banana-colored rabbit, scrambling out of a nearby brush. "The name's Hare. I try to keep this little jackasses under control. Poo-bah here is our Grand Bear Extreme, and Biglet...well, he's a large French pig, as you can see."

Biglet ate a baguette tree swiftly. But before Sore could respond, some odd, annoying beat-box music started playing. Hare put his hands to his head and said, "Oh, no..."

"What?" asked Sore. But his question was soon answered. A 1988 Oldsmobile pulled up with tinted windows. Loud music seemed to be coming from inside. The window rolled down, and there sat in the driver's seat a tiger with ten plastic platinum chains, large Ray-Bans, teeth spray-painted gold, and voluminous pants.

"Hello, Wigger," said Hare.

"Yo, Hurr!" yelled Wigger, throwing a ring-clad paw in the air. "What's goin' down in the hizzy? I just hap'n'n to be cruuuisin bah when I saw you negroes over heah doin the do." He looked at Sore. "Whoziss cracka?"

"This is Sore," Hare explained. "Another unfortunate victim to have been pulled inside our world."

"Gotchya." Wigger rested his paw on the door of the car. "I gotsta go cruise the Hundred-Acre ghetto for some special custom-ahs. I'll catch you negroes on the fizzle, for shizzle. Tizzle tizzle fizzle nizzle, tazizzle tazizzle forizzle nowizzle."

After this somewhat convoluted phrase, Wigger rolled up his window. As the Oldsmobile bounced off, he could be heard yelling:

"If YOUDUN GIVEADANG dunTHROWITUP"

"If YOUDUN GIVEADANG dunTHROWITUP"

"Get on my levoh WHAT"

"Get on my levoh WHAT"

"I like hoes I like weed I like cars I like clothes I like weed I like killin' people I like weed I like hoes"

"Munni rollz Cahz and cloez, dat's a-all my African-Americans Roll"

"TO THE WIND-OOOOOOOH"

"If YOUDUN GIVEADANG dunTHROWITUP"

"Thanks for that lovely commentary on how much you hate rap," observed Sore.

"My pleasure," responded the author.

"Allow me to save you from this hellhole," said Hooting Bird, who had suddenly appeared. He grabbed Sore with his talons and threw him up into the stratosphere. Sore, just as he noticed the total absence of Eeyore and Roo in the parody, blacked out.

He awoke in Churlin's study. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth. (Yes, it crackled merrily. When's the last time you heard of a fire crackling gloomily? Never. So shut up.)

"Well, guys," Sore said, standing and brushing himself off. "That was—guys?"

The room was empty.

"Guys? Ronald! Goofbag! Kylie!"

As he ran out of the room, the author snickered. "Ha ha, look at me!" he cried gleefully. "I'm not sticking to the story. I'm eeevil! I'm—"

"Shut up and keep going!" Square Enix interrupted, smacking the author upside the head.

As Sore lunged into the Gummi-bear Ship alone and blasted away, Ronald sighed and watched him from the ground of Trap-Hers town.

"Think he'll be all right?" asked Kylie, staring at the ship waggling all over the sky.

"I'd worry more about us," noted Goofbag. Sore's piloting skills were leading him vengefully toward the earth. The three sprinted away as Sore flew at the ground at 23820 mph.

At the last moment, he pulled up sharply and dodged the ground. "I did it!" he yelled. "I saved myself from almost certa—" KATCHOOOOOOOM.

About 6,437 seconds later, the Gummi-bear was puttering along in the back regions of space.

"Well, thank Mackey that's over," Ronald sighed.

"Stop saying that!" Sore cringed. "And Goofbag, what the hell are you doing?"

Goofbag giggled over at the computer screen, normally used for Gummi-bear upgrades.

As Sore read over his shoulder, Goofbag typed:

"a/s/l?"

Text came up reading:

"16/f/in ure pantz"

Goofbag giggled and attempted to initiate cybersex. Sore turned away in disgust, only to notice that the ship was readying to be sucked into a large purple anus.

"What is that?" he asked, throwing himself against the windshield.

"The End of the Girl," explained Ronald, "Where honey-eating bugbears and naked lesbian nymphs abound!"

"This must have been the place Diku was talking about," Sore would have said if the ship hadn't been ripped apart by the event horizon.

Sore awoke and found himself lying on the precipitous slope of a mountain. He looked up and saw that dark blue-black clouds reeled overhead. There seemed to be no visible bottom to the mountain.

Just then, a rumbling started. Sore was suddenly lifted off the ground.

"Hey...I can fly!" he laughed, whirling around. He saw Ronald and Goofbag approaching him.

Sore looked at the peak of the mountain, not but a hundred yards below and standing between him and his compatriots. The peak seemed to be swelling with orange energy.

Before you could say "Square Enix," the mountain erupted with hellfire, utterly destroying the frail bodies of Ronald and Goofbag. Sore watched in horror as a massive figure ripped the mountain apart and rested on its volcanic remains. As the fire and smoke cleared, Sore now floated before a giant...

"Bucket?" cried Sore. The crazed bucket flailed around and tipped butter out of its top.

Some crazy-ass music started playing, and the Churn-o-Bag summoned his unholy butter. Sore simply stared.

The Churn-o-Bag tipped over and vomited forth a Roman Candle of cream. Sore nimbly avoided the bad metaphor—er, huge energy blast.

"Oh no! What must I do?" yelled Sore as the Churn-o-Bag let loose a mighty belch.

"You...have to...kill the composer," the burnt remains of Ronald quacked feebly.

Sore saw something move below the mighty Churn-o-Bag. It was an old Russian man, hobbling along quickly, carrying an antique jukebox from which the music was playing.

Sore, dodging the cow piss that the Churn-o-Bag was pouring out, flew down and alighted in front of the man, waving his dildo.

"Modest Mussorgsky," growled Sore. "We meet at last!"

Mussorgsky stared at him dumbly for a few minutes. " ," he muttered, throwing his jukebox down. The music stopped playing, and the Churn-o-Bag exploded in a mighty fireball of milk that rocked the foundations of the entire planet. Assuming there was one.

"Ronald! Goofbag!" cried Sore.

"Sore!" cried Ronald and Goofbag.

"Dante!" cried Trish.

"Trish!" cried Dante.

"Ted!" cried Bill.

"Bill!" cried Ted.

"Mr. Anderson!" cried Agent Smith.

"KILL!" cried Astaroth.

"Holy crap!" cried Strong Bad.

"Can't we all just get along?" James Taylor said.

"NO," shouted everyone in unison. Astaroth raised his axe and quickly dispatched of all the remaining unnecessary characters.

After that somewhat pointless sequence, Ronald, Goofbag and Sore scrambled up the burnt mountain and found an intricate maze within.

"Gawrsh, what's in here?" giggled Goofbag.

" The end of the game, of course," responded Sore. "Whooooo's ready?"

"Not me!" cried Ronald, falling headfirst into the pit. Sore and Goofbag followed quickly. Instead of actually working their way through the maze, they charged through blindly, smashing into walls and destroying platforms, because it was easier for the author to have them do that.

Eventually, they reached a small room with a bubbling waterfall and all sorts of psychedelic colors. On the far end of the room stood a tall door with a message scribbled on it.

As Sore approached, he read the message of warning inscribed on the door. It read:

AZHTON WUZ HEER '93

"What the hell does that mean?" cried Sore.

It obviously means to be careful, because MANY dangers lie ahead, said the voice from the beginning of the parody.

"So you decided to come back?" said Sore.

Yeah, I had a gig with that stupid fantasy movie. The Ford of the Blings or whatever. Regardless, I'm here to pester you for a while now!

"Shit," Sore noted with some interest as the door flew open and gobbled up everything.

He awoke to see the cloudless blue sky reeling overhead. "Unnh...what just happened?" he sighed, sitting up.

"WAKKA!" he cried, waving towards land. But the apparition of being Tidus soon (thankfully) faded.

"Whew...wrong game," he muttered, standing up.

"Ronald? Goofbag?" he looked around him, but saw nobody. It was just him...on his old island.

"I'm...I'm back!" he cried. "Hey, hey! Diku! Kylie! I'm back! I was just dreaming!"

But as Sore scrambled around the island, he realized...he was entirely alone. Feeling comparable to Squall at the ending of Final Fantasy VIII.

"...Whatever," muttered Squall.

"This world has been connected," Billy Zane's voice said.

"Huh?" cried Sore, whirling around. He saw Hawaiian Death Lord Diku standing on the beach. "What could that be?"

"Tied to the darkness." The island began to melt away into semen.

"Gross," noted Sore, nearly falling into a vat of semen.

"It's all mine, too! Nice touch, wasn't it?" As Diku turned, he was suddenly replaced with...

"Pantsem! Ha! I KNEW it was you all along!"

"Well, I only told you about 13 times," responded Pantsem, brushing his insanely white teeth.

"I see," responded Sore. "Well...enjoy your brush, because it's going to be your LAST!" He threw his dildo forward.

Pantsem dodged his blow in an agent-like fashion. "You think you can be rid of me that easily?" he cried. "Nurturing the darkness in your heart with hatred will only make me stronger! Bwahahahahaha!"

"This sounds suspiciously similar to Silent Hill 3", muttered Sore.

"Can you stop with the references to other games?" cried Pantsem. "It's really pissing me off. Now...we must fight!"

Sore thought about it for a moment, and then said, "No."

"Oh...ok. If you wish for all your worlds to be destroyed, so be it." Pantsem turned and started to walk away.

Sora smirked. Without warning, he lunged at Pantsem and ran him through.

"Uh oh," stated Pantsem quite unhappily, looking at the gaping wound that was now in him.

In the next instant, he exploded into egg rolls and copies of James Fennimore Cooper's Last of the Mohicans.

"That was easy...too easy," said Sore, munching on an egg roll.

"Yes, it was!" shouted Sore's dreadlock shadow, which had suddenly sprung out of nowhere.

"Oh no, I'm so scared, ahh," sighed Sore.

"Run," suggested his brain.

"Okay," replied his feet.

"Rumble," added the ground.

As Sore sprinted away from the gargantuan shadow (who was rolling the palm trees and egging the houses), the middle section of the island exploded outward. Solid earth turned into liquid, and rock fountained into the air. The ground let out a moan of (ecstasy) anguish, and all of the primitive buildings that had been there were crushed under the thrashing earth.

"This can't be good," observed Sore as the dreadlocked shadow morphed into a giant middle finger. In the next moment, everything was sucked into a void stemming from the massive opening in the center of the island. Except for that damned potted plant again.

Sore woke to see black clouds flying overhead. He looked all around and saw the same thing.

"Uh oh," he decided as he started to fall. "These are indeed tough bananas."

As he fell, he heard the resounding voice of Pantsem: "Behold the endless abyss. Within it lies the fart of all worlds..."

Sore suddenly stopped. Before him stood a platform of gray ground, with a few spiky gray trees scattered around. Rising above it all was a massive white door.

"KINGDOM FARTS!"

"OhNOOEEZ!" Sore danced around, spinning on his head.

"Do you...even know what's going on?" asked Pantsem.

"No, not really," sighed Sore. "I haven't had any idea what the hell I'm doing for generally most of this book. Except sealing Buttholes to keep some lame enemies away."

"Hang on, let me get my evil genius hat on," said Pantsem, though Sore still could not see him. "All right. You've been attempting to restore the farts of all worlds. But your quest is futile! ALL farts lie in darkness, just as the farts of humans do. We are all made from darkness, and to darkness we shall return!"

"Uh...what?"

Suddenly, a wall of the darkness flew open, and Pantsem rocketed out, standing on top a huge flaming ice cream truck.

"DEATH TO ALL THOSE WHO OPPOSE THE HOMEWORLD!" Pantsem hollered.

"Roohaahaahaa," Sweet Tooth interjected.

"This is strangely awesome!" Sore cried as he dodged flaming ice cream cones. "Even though it doesn't make sense!"

He felt two familiar presences beside him.

"I don't really know why the hell he's on an ice cream truck, but I think if we can defeat him, this will end!" quacked Ronald.

"Yeah! And then we can make our rap video!" cried Goofbag.

"Nobody said anything about a rap video," responded Sore.

"Whoosh," suggested his dildo.

KATCHOOOOOOOM. The ice cream truck hurtled downward into the darkness and exploded for no particular reason. Then there was silence.

"That's it? That's the final boss fight? Come ON! This couldn't get any lamer!" Sore threw his dildo on the ground in anger.

You shall REGRET DOING THAT! cried the unknown voice.

"No. I'm tired and I want to go home," muttered Sore.

As he, Ronald and Goofbag walked toward the massive door, Pantsem sprung up behind them, covered in bloodstains and burning from the wreckage of the ice cream truck.

"SUPREME DARKNESS!" he shouted, and Sore couldn't help but notice the slight tone of malice that had crept into his voice.

"Ronald," muttered Sore as he began to pull the door open. "Do something about that."

"Aye aye, captain!" cried Ronald. He scrambled right up to Pantsem, who was raving about joining the Communist party of New York or something similar.

"Hey, Pantsem!" cried Ronald. Pantsem shut up and glared at the duck.

"Lemme break it down. Hit it, Goofbag!" Over where Sore was still pulling the door open, Goofbag pressed the play button on a 1982 boom box, and a really annoying beat started playing. Goofbag nodded his head to the beat, and Ronald pulled on his MC jacket.

"Yo," said Ronald. "Yo, yo:

Pantsem, my man, why you bein' such a dick?

Always killin homies, stealing girls, stupid prick.

Thinkin you can open up the Butthole, man?

Tryin to get to the farts so you can be a high-rollin'?

But lemme tell ya something, my nemesis boy

It aint' always about the money and the ploy!

SO JUST LISTEEEEEEEEN (Listeeeeeen!)

You can unde--

"NO!" screamed Pantsem. "NO MORE! I CAN'T STAND IT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA RGHHJKDSFIWEUREATYOURPORKCHOPSSNOOGYMCMOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAGH!"

"It worked!" cried Ronald. "He's gonna blow in a final-boss like fashion!"

"More like Galerians," said Sore, turning to Goofbag. "Did you ever play that game or watch the movie? Holy crap. It was all like...SUDDEN TOTAL DEATH MANUEVER."

"Sounds hyper-1337!" exclaimed Goofbag, watching Pantsem.

Pantsem turned in on himself, turned a variety of shapes and colors, ate his own elbows, vomited out a good deal of Ross Perot's body, invented the steam locomotive, slew 17,283,943,827,161,728,394,382,716 butterflies, grew wings, grew horns, grew nearly 10000 acres of cauliflower in Mississippi, destroyed Missippi along with the entire southeast, ate the members of a certain Scandinavian symphonic black metal band, and powered up a massive explosion.

By this time, Sore had gotten the door almost entirely open. "Now I see," Sore stated. "Kingdom Farts...is light!"

"Light shot out and struck Pantsem's body.

"Well, whaddya know?" sighed Pantsem feebly. "I'm obviously an idiot! But...but why?"

"Don't ask me, it's not like this game makes much sense anyway," replied the author.

The entire world inverted its colors for a few seconds. Pantsem rolled around on the ground and lost all of his teeth. Slowly, he was lifted up by an unseen force, and then his head was smashed into the ground, quietly destroying his body. A few sparks came off the ground.

"What the hell?" Sore cried. "Wasn't there supposed to be some massive explosion?"

"Gawrsh, I thought so too," agreed Goofbag. "But if he didn't explode in a boss-like fashion, that must mean..."

Thaaaaaat's riiiight! He ISN'T DEAD! shouted the voice.

"Well, we don't have time to worry about that!" cried Ronald. "We have to shut this damn door, because in CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, THERE ARE ABOUT 600 OF THOSE DREADLOCK THINGS IN THERE!"

They started pushing the door closed, but it seemed stuck fast. "Crapz on a crapz cracker," said Sore.

Suddenly, he noticed a familiar gloved hand on the door.

"Come on, Sore!" cried Diku. "We can work together! Remember the motivational posters!"

"Diku? You're back...to your old self!"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Diku. "It's not like I was even that great in the first place."

"Then you admit your faults?" Sore shouted happily.

"N-no...well, somewhat, bu—"

"OH!" Sore released his grip on the door. "I knew it! Oh-hoooo! Word! Wurrrrd! Ure mom, ure MOMMM! I so totally owned your ass!"

"This isn't over," growled Diku, starting to pull the door shut.

"Wait, Diku," an oddly high-pitched voice said.

Ronald and Goofbag gasped.

"Your majesty!"

King Mackey approached the door and stepped partially out. Sore now saw that he was not anything like he expected...in fact, he was a lame-ass little mouse.

The author was then beaten up by Disney™©® lovers everywhere.

King Mackey spoke up: "Look. Sore, Diku. I don't know what it is between you two, but you're going to settle it, one way or another. But don't worry. There will always be a door to the light. Or something motivational like that. Now then, I'm still on my quest for that damned grilled cheese, and I don't think I'll find it here. At any rate, a watched pot never boils, whistle a happy tune, too many cooks spoil the brouhaha, don't find any wooden nickels, go with God, avoid child molesters, and all that stuff. Let's seal this door."

"Sure thing!" cried Sore. His dildo, which hadn't had much of a part lately, plugged into the door quickly and started pumping. As the dildo worked its magic, Sore looked at Diku.

"...Take care of her," said Diku, smiling.

Sore nodded and said, "I'll be sure to grab her ass for you."

In the next instant, King Mackey could be heard chanting his spells:

"Queequeg quahog!

Quodnam quixote!

Pequod peapod!

P-nus Peyote!

Presto change-o

Toil and trouble

Rollo chunky

Double-Bubble!"

The door let out a massive sigh and slipped into the ground, taking the dildo with it. All that remained was a soggy pumpkin.

"What? Nooooooo!" Sore cried. "My hours and hours of entertainment! GONE!"

He fell to the ground, sobbing, completely unaware that the dildo, through a strange glitch in the game, was positioned some 3000 feet above him. The dildo shot out a beam of divine jizz, which splashed onto Sore with an audible SPLORT. He looked up and summoned the dildo to him, stroking the giant artificial penis happily.

"Well, this worked out well, wouldn't you say?" commented Ronald.

"Not really," sighed Kylie, who had magically appeared over at the edge of the area.

"Kylie!" cried Sore, running to her. The ground began to tear apart, and Sore could not reach her in time.

As the piece of earth Kylie stood on began to let off farts and rain cans of Mountain Dew: Pitch Black, Sore said, "Kylie! There's just one thing...I have to tell you!"

"What?" cried Kylie.

"...I need you...to take back Diku's copy of Digimon Rumble Arena 2 to Blockbuster! It's 3 weeks overdue!"

But before Kylie could respond, she utterly vanished.

"Well, I guess that's that," sighed Sore, turning to Ronald and Goofbag. "Diku and Mackey are trapped in some lame-ass world, Kylie's gone back to the island, and here...we are."

"Aw, cheer up!" giggled Goofbag. "Take one o' these, I swear it will help!" He offered a tiny pill.

"Actually, ecstasy destroys serotonin over a period of time, the chemical in your brain responsible for producing happiness," noted the author.

"Aw, shucks," responded Goofbag.

"So...where should we go?" said Ronald.

"Hey, look at that!" cried Sore. "A road is forming over there!"

The three walked over to the dark and winding road. Further up, the clouds split open, revealing a scenic, blue-skied countryside.

"This looks promising...but what is it?" Sore wondered out loud.

Suddenly, a figure began to trek down the road. As the person approached, Sore recognized it as...

"Kasumi? What the hell are you doing here?"

The really hot ninja glared at the three rather sardonically. "Don't look at me, kids, I'm just doing my job." She put a sign down in the ground that said "TO SEQUEL AND MORE LAME JOKES."

"Great," muttered Sore. "I can hardly wait..."

"Oh yeah, this is for you." Kasumi withdrew a letter sealed with the familiar symbol of King Mackey.

Sore looked at Ronald and Goofbag. "C'mon, guys! Let's GO!" he shouted, charging forward. Kasumi narrowly dodged him as he scrambled up the path.

"Rabble!" shouted Ronald.

"Gawrsh," noted Goofbag.

The three scrambled up the pathway and ran through the hole, which sealed itself up for eternity, leaving Kasumi behind in the void. Having little else to do, she withdrew a cigarette, lit up, and commited seppuku.

Kingdom Hearts was safe...for now...

The end...of Part ONE! Harharhar!

"Hey!" cried Kylie. "What about my segment? You know, me, alone, on the island? Privately confessing my undying love for Sore?"

"Damn it, woman! You're supposed to take the damn Digimon game back! Priorities, PRIORITIES!" shouted Sore from a hole in the ground.