John stared up at the sky, blinking his magnificent Windex-colored eyes like a twin pair of flies stuck to a windshield. The sky was clear, the blizzard gone and dead like his glasses that one time he had knocked them into the toilet while it was flushing. The weather had been miraculously spirited away, just like that, along with Karkat and his heavenly dong.
He looked down from the bright, mocking sun and scanned the horizon. It was nothing but mountains as far as the eye could see, everything blanketed by a thick covering of fresh snow as white and blinding as Dave's pasty ass. Shrugging, John decided he might as well get looking for Karkat and his runaway dong, seeing as he had nothing better to do. He reached out one foot, and set it down onto the snow. And down he went, the snow swallowing him up like some abomination from DeviantArt's newest page.
John shot up, sputtering the chunky white stuff suggestively from his face-hole, gasping for air. He brushed the rest from his hair and clothes, grumbling to himself. Great, like he really needed to be soaked out in the freezing cold. But he soldiered on, determined to find Karkat despite the shitty conditions. It was no easy trek, the snow reaching up to his waist. He was really starting to despise all this frosty cloud-jizz.
He was grateful to still have a few remaining matches leftover. They sure were convenient and shit. Reaching down into his pocket, he seized one of the matches and then struck it. Holding it aloft, he gazed into it, basking in its warmth. Despite its small size, it gave off enough heat to conveniently dry all of his clothes almost immediately, regardless of all the laws of thermodynamics he was casually shattering. How incredibly convenient.
Shuffling along, John made sure to hold the match out in front so it would melt the snow that blocked his path. He created for himself a disgusting path of slush and mud. It was a sticky mixture that sucked at his shoes as he walked, making the sounds found in some weird hentai. It was quite the annoyance, as his feet would get stuck sometimes and it took a near-herculean effort to get the damn things unstuck, only for his foot to become immediately stuck again as soon as it planted back down. He looked like some bizarre freak of a man-duck out there, waddling through the mud as he was.
His match starting to fizzle out, John paused, exhausted from all the wading. His hands fell to his knees and he drooped forward, panting. When he looked back up, he saw a faint color in the air, like a minute aurora. It was as though someone had spilled a bunch of shitty bubble solution into the air but it hadn't come down. His gaze locked on it, he walked closer. Mesmerized, he trudged on, barely even noticing the snow as he was instinctively drawn to the strange apparition.
As John neared, the shimmering wave began to ripple like a giant floppy dildo, increasing in intensity the closer he got. Cautiously, he reached out and touched it. It was a light touch, his finger hardly even grazing the surface. The reaction was immediate, volatile; the whole thing erupting into violent shudders like a cat when it does that thing where it dry-heaves like a chain smoker for like an hour. Please, not on the carpet. John leapt back, staring wildly, scared of what the metaphorical chain-smoker cat might cough up. A dark, hazy shape had started taking form inside it.
John squinted as he studied it with hesitation, just in case it did something stupid and unexpected, like randomly explode or something. The dark thing transformed; its outline, once nebulous and unsteady, became sharpened and opaque. It was round, save for two long outgrowths jutting out from a tattered-looking bush-substance.
John gasped. It appeared as though he had just stumbled upon a magical talking shrub.
And just as if he had pulled a light bulb from his ass-crack, the shape was suddenly illuminated. A pale face filled in the darkness like a cup of cream spilled into a vat of roaring sewage. John stared at the face and it grinned back at him.
"Dang, is that you, Gamzee?" John said. He blinked and paused to rub his eyes, dumbstruck. "Aw shit, how high am I?"
"Not high enough, brother," Gamzee replied with his shrub-voice. "Here, have some of this dank kush." He reached up with an ethereal arm and plucked a cluster from his dank-ass shrub-hair, which John now realized was made entirely out of weed. Gamzee seized John's wrist with one hand and shoved the leaves into his open palm with the other.
John stared blankly at the weed in his hand, which magically configured itself into a blunt before his eyes. He looked back at the Gamzee-shaped hallucination. "How dank is it?"
Gamzee pulled a wide, toothy grin. "The DAAAAAAAAANNNNKIIIIEEEEEESSTT!"
He raised his hands in a pair of thumbs-up as he slowly faded from existence like a shitty Windows Movie Maker transition. It was as though he was being sucked inside a black hole. Then with a final flash, the rainbow-tinted vortex exploded with a sound that was totally radical.
John was left alone once more, staring off into the distance with a fat stack of fuckin' dank weed in his hand. He gazed down at it. He thought of his matches.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, totally out of the blue, the silence was suddenly shattered as something suddenly screamed somewhere in the distance all of a sudden. John nearly dropped his blunt upon the sudden sound making sudden contact with his suddenly fabulous eardrums.
He flipped around dramatically, and looked off into the distance. There was a dark, unmistakable shape out on the horizon. John couldn't help his lips pulling into a grin.
It was Karkat.
