In a distant galaxy, a god of unfathomable power stirred. This wasn't just any deity; it was the Maximum Over-God, a cosmic titan whose mere presence distorted reality. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed his electric dick-godsaw, a weapon of unparalleled destruction. The saw roared to life, splitting 100 million galaxies in half with its revving. Stars exploded, planets vaporized, and entire civilizations were obliterated in an instant.

The god moved through the cosmos with a casual, almost lazy grace. He wasn't motivated by rage or ambition; this was just another routine day for him. Comets disintegrated, black holes imploded, and nebulae were shredded into cosmic dust. The electric dick-godsaw, throbbing with raw energy, was a phallic symbol of pure destruction, its blade a blur of incandescent fury.

Every rev of the saw was a symphony of chaos, the screeching metal a hymn to the gods of destruction. Dark matter quaked, pulsars burst in showers of deadly radiation, and the silent void of space filled with the cacophony of the god's rampage. The destruction was so vast, so thorough, it defied comprehension. Entire dimensions blinked out of existence as the god's saw carved through the fabric of reality.

Yet amidst this orgy of annihilation, there was a strange sense of banality. The god's movements were disinterested, his gaze distant. He was like a bored teenager in detention, wielding cosmic power with all the enthusiasm of someone flipping channels on TV. The universe trembled before him, but to the god, it was all just a way to pass the time.

Back on Earth, Lincoln Loud trudged downstairs, still reeling from the events that had turned his home into a war zone. The sight that greeted him in the living room was gruesome: his father's lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Lincoln stepped over the corpse without a second thought, his mind focused on one thing: finding the VHS tape of "ARRRGH!"—his favorite 90s-style ghosthunting horror show.

He rummaged through a dusty box of tapes, the chaos outside a distant concern. Finally, he found it: the special Halloween episode of "ARRRGH!" He clutched the tape to his chest, a flicker of excitement breaking through his numbness. Ignoring the chaos and death around him, he headed back upstairs.

In the kitchen, Lincoln grabbed a bag of chocolate-covered popcorn. He filled a bowl to the brim and made his way to the living room, where the glow of the TV cast eerie shadows on the walls. The familiar opening credits of "ARRRGH!" played, and Lincoln felt a wave of nostalgic comfort wash over him. The cheesy music, the over-the-top special effects, the bad reactions to blatantly fake ghosts—it was all a welcome escape from reality.

As Lincoln settled into bed, munching on his popcorn, the sounds of gang warfare raged outside. Gunfire echoed through the night, and the distant cries of the wounded pierced the air. But inside Lincoln's room, it was as if none of it existed. He lost himself in the ridiculous antics of his favorite ghost show, a brief respite from the madness that surrounded him.

For a few precious hours, Lincoln was just the normal kid he was, watching his favorite show and munching on snacks. The world outside might be falling apart, but in this house, everything was okay. The night wore on, and Lincoln's eyelids grew heavy. He drifted off to sleep, the sounds of "ARRRGH!" blending with the distant chaos outside. In his dreams, he was the hero, fighting monsters and saving the day.

Morning would bring the harsh reality of a town in turmoil, but for now, Lincoln found peace in the glow of the TV and the crunch of chocolate-covered popcorn. The chaos of the outside world faded into the background, and Lincoln knew that, at least for a little while, he could escape from it all.

Feeling unusually considerate, Lynn Jr. tiptoed into the room with a blanket. She gently draped it over Lincoln, but he snapped. Without warning, he pimpslapped her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Lynn Jr. hit the ground, stunned. The rest of the sisters—Lori, Leni, Luna, Luan, Lola, Lana, and Lisa—rushed into the room at the sound of the commotion. They saw Lynn Jr. on the floor and immediately went berserk.

No words were needed. The sisters launched themselves at Lincoln, fists flying and feet kicking. The living room turned into a chaotic battleground. Luna slammed her guitar down on Lincoln's back with a resounding crash. Lori delivered precise kicks, while Leni yanked his hair and Lola and Lana scratched at his face with savage glee. Lisa jabbed him with a homemade taser, sending jolts of electricity through his body.

Lincoln tried to defend himself, but he was quickly overwhelmed. The sisters' combined assault left him battered and broken on the floor. Bloodied and bruised, he could barely move by the time they were done.

At Weenie Hut General...

Lincoln was wheeled into the hospital on a stretcher, barely conscious and moaning in pain. Medical workers swarmed around him, assessing his injuries. A burly nurse with a no-nonsense attitude bent over him, inspecting his wounds. "What happened to you, kid?"

"My sisters," Lincoln whimpered, tears streaming down his face. "They beat me up for no reason. They're monsters!"

The nurse, unfazed, patted his head roughly and examined a particularly nasty bruise. "You poor thing," she muttered, before leaning down resting her waterfall tits on his face and kissing his thumb booboo with exaggerated, sloppy, slobbery, gooey, mucus affection. "All better now?"

Lincoln grimaced, "Yeah... thanks," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Just then, the hospital intercom crackled to life. "Attention all staff, we've got another one coming in. Extreme gastrointestinal distress. Code Brown, I repeat, Code Brown."

Lincoln barely had time to process this before the doors swung open and Lucy was wheeled in, her face a mask of pain and embarrassment. She clutched her stomach, looking like she had just escaped a war zone.

"Sigh!" her ass said, her intestines now so torn apart that she had learned how to talk out of her ass.

Meanwhile, across town, Gangsta Clyde was lounging in his pimped-out hideout made in the shape of his face, surrounded by his massive harem of girls. His Pimp-Action Shotgun was propped up into a makeshift ho ass, gleaming in the dim light. One of his henchmen burst in, panting and out of breath. "Boss, you gotta hear this! Lincoln Loud's in the hospital. His sisters beat him up real bad."

Clyde's eyes lit up with a sadistic glee. He stood up, grabbing his shotgun and adjusting his feathered hat. "Get the car ready. We're going to have some fun."

As Clyde prepared to leave, his phone buzzed. It was Ronnie Anne. "Clyde, we need to talk. I just heard about Lincoln. We need to take out the Loud sisters."

"Dang it," he said. "I was just about to take Lori as a concubine. Now I gotta pop her bitch ass. You ready?"

"Bitch, I was born ready. I just gotta get my knives and my lube, and we'll have them dead within the hour."

Back at the hospital, Dr. Faggio finished pumping Lincoln's arms with a never ending array of hypodermic needles. Lincoln hated needles. But if they were necessary to ease the pain, he'd tolerate them and shut his eyes whenever the doctor had to give him the poke. When the boy asked what they were for, the doctor said, "Oh nothing, I just like giving little boys needles."

Then he walked away, eager to poke the arms of a new kid brought in, some loser who had been beaten by an angry rioting mob for crimes against humanity, evident by his fabulously cool hair!

Anyway, Lincoln lay in bed, groaning in pain and feeling utterly miserable. The nurse who had kissed his thumb returned with a tray of food that looked like it had been microwaved to death. "Here, eat this. It'll make you feel better."

Lincoln eyed the tray with disgust. "Do I have to?"

"Eat up, or I'll feed it to you myself," the nurse threatened, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Just then, the doors burst open, and Gangsta Clyde strutted in, flanked by his entourage. "Well, well, well, look who we have here," Clyde sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "The mighty Lincoln Loud, brought low by his own sisters."

Lincoln's eyes widened in terror. "Clyde, what are you doing here?"

"Just visiting an old friend," Clyde said, waving his shotgun menacingly. "And maybe settling a few scores."

Ronnie Anne appeared behind Clyde, her eyes locked on Lincoln. "We're here for Lucy," she said coldly. "But we figured we'd drop by and see you first."

The nurse, sensing trouble, tried to intervene. "You can't be in here!"

Clyde pointed his shotgun at her. "Shut up bitch, and you're next."

The nurse backed away, hands raised. "Alright, alright, I'm out." BLAM!

"I didn't say 'or,' bitch." Clyde turned back to Lincoln. "Now, where's Lucy?"

Lincoln stammered, "I don't know, she's somewhere in the hospital."

The hospital intercom crackled again. "Lucy Loud to the emergency room. Lucy Loud to the emergency room. After you have finished obliterating the toilet for the 5th time in the past hour, and refused to use fragrance to clean up after yourself, Lucy Loud to the emergency room."

Deep from elsewhere in the hospital, they heard a rapsy, "Groan! Why do they have to announce it so loudly?!" GLRUGRRGLRP "Ah!"

Clyde and Ronnie Anne exchanged a glance. "Looks like we found her," Clyde said, pumping the shotgun and dropping a perfectly good shell.

I AM HOGMAN