A sleek middle-aged white man with a scalp drenched in expensive hair gel struts down a prison hallway. He passes by a number of cells, noting how everyone's asleep. He then stops and shutters at the huge cell in the middle of this row of prisoners. He gasps at the sight of the Mad Titan, Thanos, hooked up to a sedation machine smartly placed on the right corner of the cell. After recovering from an initial shock, he praises, "you mad lad Steven, you finally caught the beast. Too bad primal evils like him won't let go of his prized possession. No wonder why he needs to be constantly sedated." After a few seconds of smiling at the sight of a possessed titan, he struts on by, whistling to the beat of Kokomo by The Beach Boys. He passes through the long prison hall and encounters a rather well-endowed lady with blonde hair, a thick pair of glasses, and a virgin strut. As she approaches his way, the man catcalls her by letting out a comedically intense whistle, attempting to strum an F minor with his tongue. The woman rolls her eyes and keeps walking. The creepy man struts faster and catches up to her. After controlling his breath, he forwards, "hey, I couldn't help but notice you are as sexy as any mirror I pass through on a daily, howboutcha follow me to the restroom and get a little afternoon delight, if ya know what I'm talking about?"

The woman rightfully retaliates, "out here in space, there's no such thing as afternoon, dipshit."

The man stutters and attempts to control the situation. He stalks up close to her, smiles and asks, "do you know who I am?"

"You're James Franco, and unless you got another 5 million dollars to burn on a settlement, best better stay back, creep." The woman walks away with a commanding presence that intimidates Franco.

James, not knowing what to say next, screams, "I was in the Spider-Man movies! You should be bawling for my balls!"

The woman looks back at him, middle fingers ready for deployment, and bluntly states, "The real Spider-Man just died in Thanos' hands, and you're dragging his name for some mindless sex? You insensitive, perverted fuck!"

Franco stands there cold. His sole nemesis, Spider-Man, died. And the leashed animal he stalked passed did the job for him. He looked at a security camera lens hooked up to the wall, and a reflection of his father, Willem Dafoe, appeared cackling at him. Willem, with a dry, intimidating voice, teases, "Little Goblin Junior's got a poor losing streak. Pfft. Looks like daddy's gonna crack the whip and show you some discipline!"

Every cold corner of the prison spoke to Franco at this moment. He felt ashamed to be in his father's presence. He attempted to open his mouth and respond, but there was nothing to say. How could he argue with his father's truth?

The man on the camera continued, "Spidey thought that, just like you, he had his master plan figured out. For a second, he thought, he could rise above Thanos and come out the other end unscathed. But no narrative we tell ourselves can truly account for chaos, for chaos remains unshackled, and when you tug on the chains of life expecting barks to not lead to bites, then you will die to a chiuaua. You've been lucky this far, son… but luck only gets you this far. Little Goblin, Little Goblin… such a fitting first name."

"My first name's…"

"Go on, say it…"

Franco gulps. The reflection of Willem Dafoe remarks, "Like father, like son. Better hope there's room for a casket next to your old man, Harry." Willem laughs. In retaliation, James Franco smashes the security cam and struts forth.

The miniature security cam explosion woke up Peter Griffin, the prisoner trapped in the cell parallel to the device. He made the horrible mistake of devouring a stuffed crust pizza before the grand chicken fight which occurred no less than 5 hours ago. He rips a mean fart, and feels a semisolid load creeping in. There's no toilet, nor the presence of a bucket. But he sees a restroom sign outside his cell. In a desperate last resort to expel his intestines, he whispers, "this is more intense than that time I went to the restroom-"

Suddenly, a spark of orange light appears on the floor and forms into a circle. Then, a duplicate of Peter appears, hovering thanks to the power of his cape. He looks at this Peter and begs, "whatever you do, DO NOT CAST THAT CUTAWAY. Cutaways to the future can drastically fracture the present and the future timelines. In my future, Sonic and Bubsy died, and Steven conquered the multiverse. I'm glad I even made it here."

Present Peter replies, "thanks Future Peter, I know I can trust you. Tell me, can you portal me to the restroom?"

"Of course, that's why the Sorcerer Supreme sent me here. Soon everything will be alright… Just keep low… don't alert anyone of your presence, and you should be safe as long as you stay in the stall for 4 minutes. We'll portal you back, got it?"

Another hole appears in the room and Peter hops through. He drops directly onto a toilet in a clean restroom hall. At first, he takes down his pants and lets a fart loose. Suddenly, he heard a fart, followed by a gasp.

Peter, cautious for his safety, looks underneath the stall and spots a pair of shoes. His inner monolog concentrates hard. He thinks to himself, "with a fart like that, it couldn't possibly be Steven Universe himself. Maybe I should wait for another one before I make an assessment…"

Unbeknownst to Peter, James Franco summoned the rival fart. In his stall, the actor looks at his tablet displaying all the security feeds. All the prison camera feeds are active, except Feed 22. James aggressively sniffs Peter's farts and thinks, "Someone's in here, but I don't have enough information to go off of. I can't kill this person immediately, for he could be an ally. But his silence… It's deafening. He's holding it in intentionally."

"I'm holding it in intentionally. I'm going to let him think I'm-"

"-constipated so he could stall the game. Well, I could always fart and channel Steven's power to redirect the particles into his nose in order to make him think I'm more mature in my farting prowess than he would expect me to be."

"The only person who could ever match me in a battle like this is Michael Moore, but Steven's too young to give a shit about him… But it's too late, the fart fight's initiated… I cannot relent…"

Peter lets go of an intense fart, but James jinxes it. Peter toots in a higher note, and James matches. The creep smiles, but Peter lets out an even richer fart. His monolog gasps, and in retaliation, James rips out a half-formed shit he was building up. After the wet aftermath of a forced turd expulses, he conjures another fart. Too bad Peter rips a fart so intense it loosens his anus just enough to release a stream of diarrhea. James stumbles as he manually breaks down all the waste clumps in his intestines just to match Peter's stream.

Mid-shit, Peter thinks to himself, "I don't see any way he could profile me just based on a farting match, so I have to assume he has some other goal in mind. Either way, I'm not going to let him win."

James internally ponders, "I wonder, if this man is as good at bending shit as I think, he may be better off on our team. I'm going to be silent, just till his stream ends…"

After Peter lets out his load, he rips a dangerously loud fart that faintly tickles the seat. Its stench reaches James' nostrils faster than a lightning strike. Peter then thinks to himself, "take this!"

"If I gag to this stench then he could hear my voice. I must hold it in and counteract."

"Why won't you barf?"

"I WON'T BARF TILL YOU DO." James raises his right hand and taps on the index finger twice, followed by a stroke of his pinky. Steven, the oneness plague on humanity, felt these special stroke commands and teleported into James' mind palace.

There, in the Green Hole of dying knowledge, Willem Dafoe floats atop the vortex whilst eating a hot dog. He finishes chewing his dog with gusto, then smiles as if a gun's pointed at his head. He asks, "Harry, long time no see!"

James mumbles, "not now, Dad…" Fitting, as Steven approached through the Green Hole and appeared in front of the two. James addresses Steven directly, "hey, I need some help dismantling my farting opponent's stomach."

The projected consciousness shakes his head, and in an unusually confident manner, Steven rejects James' request, claiming, "I take farting competitions seriously, and I will never encourage cheating."

James responds, "but Steven, the assistant in the stall next to me may be one of the prisoners. A prisoner with powers that may extraordinarily help our cause. It's not about winning the contest, it's about luring a bunny into a trap. And this bunny's a shitbender, guaranteed. With his shit manipulation skills, and your human-fusing abilities, we can turn every human on the planet into a biological weapon. Imagine it, we possess the entire Money Island, summon them in the air, and spontaneously hurl their feces onto the UN floor, causing mass hysteria. The whole world will bow down to us!"

Steven sighs, "that's an interesting concept. Let's paralyze this guy and see what his brain has to offer us. What's the worst that could happen?"

Steven fades away and Willem Dafoe claps. He looks at James, holding his hot dog, and compliments, "what a stunning plan! Hurl shit over the United Nations. Gotta love it."

James Franco asks bluntly, "is that sarcasm?"

Dafoe chews onto his hot dog again and replies, "well, you know what they say about pork chops. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Dafoe and Steven fade from Franco's mind as reality sets back in. Suddenly, Steven, through his cellular morphing techniques, triggers Peter's gag reflex, causing him to drop to the floor. The stream of diarrhea splashes everywhere, and soon, the whole stall is splattered in brown. James thinks, "a true shitter will recover from that and finish with no hesitation."

"Okay, it's Steven. The only way I can get out of this is to simply outshit him. Easy. I can do this-"

"-all day, he'd say to himself. Well, fair game, shit yourself to death, then I'll head out."

Peter wipes his face in sweat and stumbles back onto the toilet. He flips on the safety lid in order to appear less unsanitary and resumes shitting. He contemplates, "these prisons… no way in hell a base like this could be funded, built, and maintained by one person. He's not alone. Just wait for the portal, Peter… wait for the portal… He tried to hold onto his shitstream, but alas, he felt weak… fatigued… He tilts his head everywhere, shit unleashing from his sphincter at an inhuman velocity, tears coagulating at a steady pace, scrambling for a portal. But there's nothing.

James Franco zipped his pants and flushed the toilet. Everything's going to plan. His farting rival's on the verge of exploding his insides in a flurry of half-formed shit. Peter bites tightly onto his arm in an attempt to remain silent, but James could hear the groans. He smiles as he hears a thud, followed by a turdular ceasefire. "Impossible," he thinks to himself, "has he really shat himself to death? No, because it's common fact that your bowels expel after your heart ceases beating…Good old Steven, always knowing when to pull back your punches for a tactical advantage." After pondering this belief, he swings the doors of the stall wide open and finds nothing but shit splatters on every possible surface. The actor-turned-facist drops knee deep in brown and screams. After this spontaneous mental breakdown, he finally musters the strength to expel himself from the stall and rush to the sink. He takes off his pants and drowns them in the sink in an attempt to wash off Peter's shit, but alas, diluted feces splatters over the entire restroom and onto his face. In a frustrated rage, Franco slams his leather-bound sperm protector on the ground. He feels Willem Dafoe's laugh creep in all corners, and preemptively, he smashes the mirror with his fist and bleeds like a punctured fruit gusher. Then, he drops on the floor in sheer panic, fearing the Green Goblin's continued cackling. He hears the voice in his head utter, "you can smash every mirror you lay your sights on, Harry, but you'll never escape your own internal reflection." The Goblin's monolog is interrupted by the sound of chewing on a hot dog. He cackles, "I'm so grateful for imperfect pork chops like you…"