Motu and Patlu went to Baabhabhiat for their vacation. The hotel did not have any samosas, so they went to the beach to find samosas. The blistering heat of the day had attracted a ton of seaside interest, so Patlu had to guide himself and his bro across the sand, finding avenues between the shifting swarm of people. Motu's growling stomach got increasingly worrying, but eventually they found a row of food stands. Motu rushed over and ate many, many plates of freshly cooked samosas without paying. The cook got angry at him and called the police. Five seconds later, a green motorcycle plowed through the crowd and stopped in front of Motu. Chingum stepped off his bike and pointed his realistic gun at Motu.
"It is impossible to escape from Chingum's web, say it, impossible! Oh, what brings you here, lads?" He said. Patlu apologised profusely on behalf of Motu and explained that they were on holiday. Chingum understood perfectly and arrested the cook. His ankle was tied to Chingum's bike and he was dragged across the beach, all the way to the beachside jail. Motu continued to chow down on samosas until they were all gone. Then the duo decided to play some volleyball, not that Motu was fired up.
Meanwhile, John the Don had also arrived at Baabhabhiat Beach. He scanned the sand for unattended valuables and such. And he spied, with his little Italian eye, some beautiful gold bangles on an abandoned towel. John ordered his henchmen to fetch the treasure, so that he could finally become the God Emperor of Mankind. The two burly henchmen lumbered over to the towel, but halfway there, a murder of pissed off crows swooped down and gouged their eyes out. John told the henchmen off for failing their mission. Then he took matters into is own hands, using the stealth he learned at Stealth School to schmooze across the sand. He slipped past the purvey of bikini-clad single mothers and secured the loot in his swag bag. John screamed triumphantly to the Heavens, then turned around and came face to face with a young lad.
"What are you doing, old man?" The lad asked John.
"That's none of your business, insolent swine!" John shouted as he whipped out his realistic gun. A terrified look loaded onto the lad's face. A squad of unaffiliated kids noticed the commotion and bravely came to the lad's defence. John ordered his blind henchmen to distract the children while he made a daring escape. They succeeded in this task by pretending to be Vishnu. John was getting away, but then a lass took hold of his leg, demanding that he return the bangles. John threatened her with his realistic gun.
Elsewhere, Motu and Patlu were on track towards achieving the beach volleyball all-time high score. Their opponents, Blitztank Ultramuscle and Yvonne Missuniverse, were no match against Motu when he was full of samosas. Motu spun on his tippy toes, winding up his final attack; Amplified Curving Justice Ball Slap (wind element). The crowd cheered him on as he unleashed all of his power through the palm of his hand, sending the ball zipping over to the other side of the net. Unfortunately, Patlu had slipped on a banana peel and bumped Motu ever so slightly. The ball missed its target. It soared across the sand and hit John on the shoulder. His body tensed up and tragically, he pulled the trigger on his realistic gun. A realistic bullet opened a gory path through the lass's skull. It was only two inches out of the back of her head when time stopped completely. Well, not really. John the Don was still able to make observations. It was more like everybody froze in place.
JOHN. YOU FIRED THE REALISTIC GUN. YOU KILLED A PERSON.
The colour of the world desaturated somewhat, and slowly, a celestial body appeared in the sky. It was almighty Jupiter. The sight of Jupiter's Great Red Spot caused John's spine to feel like it was burning. The feeling started from the bottom and worked its way up, until the nuclear hellfire was inside his brain. Once it reached his pineal gland, John's sense of touch extended out to occupy the entire beach. He could now feel the heat of the sun hitting everybody else's skin, as well as the damage the bullet had dealt that poor lass. Then the shapes of the people began to reform, slowly becoming likenesses of John holding the realistic gun, and the lass with an 'open' mind. The forms surrounding John were tearing, sliding, oozing and tessellating. They gradually made their presence everywhere. On the beach towels. In the grains of sand. At the very tips of John's fingers and inside his mouth. All these places contained depictions of John the Don shooting a child. Soon it consumed his soul, and he was forced to close and re-open his eyes. It was at this point that John the Don realised something important. He was late for realistic gun! John the Don quickly packed his lass and ran down the flight of Johns. He shouted goodbye to John the Don and ran all the way to realistic gun with a slice of lass in his mouth. When he got there, his friends John the Don and the lass made fun of him always being late for realistic gun. Boy, life as a fractal sure was tough, John the Don thought to himself.
The shooting class went as typical that day. The flow of the lesson was the same every time – John the Don would fire his realistic gun at the lass, then John the Don would tell him off for having bad posture. The thought of having to endure this class for five more years was making John the Don feel depressed, but there was nothing he could do in his situation. If he tried to leave realistic gun, the John the Dons would find him and bring him back. He could maybe try to enjoy shooting the lass, but that didn't feel right. John sometimes wished that he had never been an infinitely self-similar universe of himself shooting a child. Sometimes he would even try to point the realistic gun at himself, only to realise that pointing the realistic gun at the lass was inherently the same thing. So anyway, the lesson concluded and John the Don went for lunch. As he prepared to munch on John the Don shooting a child, John had a sudden, unexpected creative spark. He imagined the life of a new, finite man, who lived on a finite plane. This man was not called John the Don. He was called Motu. John the Don imagined this Motu character having a distinctly separate entity to talk to. He named this one Patlu. These two had the unique ability to have differing opinions, and face the world as partners. John the Don imagined himself as their enemy, their antithesis. Thus the adventures of Motu and Patlu commenced.