CRIS ZIM AND THE MULTIVERSE OF STUPIDITY
CHAPTER 1: THE STUPID DEATH OF CRIS ZIM (KINDA)
"Cris Zim! You're my only hope!"
Zim grumbled under his breath. Canada was lucky she was hot. (It never occurred to him that thinking about a sixteen year old like that was creepy. As usual.) He wouldn't lift a finger for anyone else. He jumped from one platform to the next, barely managing to balance long enough before jumping to the next platform. Infinity loomed below, and he knew that if he fell he might never land. He'd probably die of fright and hopelessness first.
The tentacled creature wrapped one of its appendages around Canada and squeezed. Her eyes bulged, and she could no longer scream for help. She only had seconds. He didn't know if he had the time to save her. And he needed to save her. How else would he get laid at long last?
"Gah," Canada managed to say. She couldn't manage anything further except for a slight trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. Not that Zim saw that. He was focused on the way the tentacle pushed her boobs up, and he started to salivate.
He almost jumped again, but this time he saw the book. De Vermis Mysteriis. Mysteries of the Worm. The only thing that could stop this monster. One problem: he couldn't jump that distance. The platform was too far. Slightly lowered, he might have a chance if he could grab the ledge.
Then he remembered the Sphere. A weird dude named Doctor Strange gave it to him before the tentacles pounded him to paste. The doctor—and Zim figured that was an honorary title given to Strange by Strange himself—said it could perform miracles. He hoped it was true.
A wheeze from two platforms away. Canada. Her eyes bled down to the corners of her gaping mouth. She didn't have much time left.
Zim had to get that book. He clutched the sphere and backed up as far as he could. Running, he jumped for the book, thinking happy thoughts the whole way.
Holy shit! He made it! He came to a stumbling halt mere feet in front of the rehal. The book flew open to the page he wanted: EXILIUM EXPONENTIA VERMIS. He recognized "vermis," and he guessed what "exilium" meant, but the rest of it? Fucking book was in Latin. He didn't know Latin.
"Uh," he said. "Uh. Uh."
Another wheeze. He could hear one of Canada's ribs cracking, and she couldn't even scream. He had to try it.
"Uh . . . FUCK! Uh . . . 'Klaatu . . . barracuda neato?'"
Finally Canada screamed, but it wasn't because of any relief. Her ribcage collapsed, sending bone shards into her tender organs, and she vomited blood as her eyeballs popped from their sockets, hanging from stalks on her cheeks. A toothy maw without a face descended on her and bit her head off, leaving a neck stump jetting more and more blood the tighter it squeezed her body.
"Fuck!" Zim yelled. He was never going to get laid now. Well, it only destroyed her from the waist up. Maybe . . .
The tentacle lashed out and snapped him like Brandon used to do with a towel in the locker room in high school. Fucking . . . fuck that guy. And fuck this monster.
Zim stumbled off the platform and threw his hands out, trying to grasp for any purchase he could find. The tome of forgotten lore whipped from his grip back to the rehal. His stomach bottomed out, and he screamed as he fell. And fell. And fell.
Until it became clear to him that there actually was a bottom, and it was lined with spikes about the size of human beings. One was aimed directly at him, and he realized it was going to punch through his butthole and out his mouth.
NO! He hated butt stuff! Was this going to make him gay?
The spike loomed closer and closer until he felt the point stab into his nether regions.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
