A/N: This niche type of humor is for someone out there. Maybe just one person, idk. I feel like everyone knows "that guy" (gender neutral term) who'd dig this dark, absurdist comedic mess. I ask you to send them a link or screenshot with no context. Please. I don't expect everyone who clicked on this to like it, but hopefully you can still give someone else a chuckle out of it. Use it to reconnect with that one weird friend, I don't care. Or scare someone. Tape it over their Ring doorbell. That'll shut Kathy up.

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Sweets spun around in his chair "Crime scene, guys. Let's g—" He'd spun too hard, and was turning back around to face his desk again.

Everyone waited politely.

"Okay sorry. Crime scene reported, on the I-90 Eastbound. Multiple bodies. They need a forensic anthropologist."

"Oh fuck, that's me!" Brennan whispered excitedly, like she was going to Chuck-E-Cheese. But we've done that already. Chapter 24.

"What do you mean, ON the I-90? Like on the literal highway?" Booth crossed his arms.

"No, above it." Angela stuck her tongue out at him.

"Technically everything that happens on a highway is above the road itself." Cam started, but was cut off.

"I was about to insult you, but I should insult your mother for even having you." Angela retorted.

"I appreciate you not doing that. My mother is a sensitive lady."

Sweets clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. Then he kept clapping. He continued clapping while he spoke, struggling to talk louder than his own clapping. "SO a truck crashed into another truck towing a helicopter and then a flying helicopter crashed into that, and then a truck carrying a house crashed into the wreckage, and then something about 8 more drones. Anyway, the first truck was carrying a large amount of already-dead bodies, and we need an anthropologist to sort them out, and figure out how they got there."

Booth raised his hand lamely, "They probably got there in the truck."

Angela stared me down. "End this scene before I kill an idiot."

Everyone was at risk.

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The highway scene was a mess. Several more cars had crashed into the scene, and while nobody appeared to be seriously hurt, several sissies were complaining of neck and back pain and wanted to be evaluated by first responders even though they were clearly fine and should just go the fuck home. I'm kidding.

However, aside from the gang in Booth's Government SUV BigBoy Bulletproof Mister Important Black car, there were no first responders.

The gang got out of the car and looked around. Genuinely, nobody was here to help. Which was surprising, because even though they had Big Government Expensive Cushy Important Totally-Not-A-Waste-Of-Taxpayer's-Money Big Fancy Airplane, it still took them two hours to arrive in Upstate New York because as far as we know the Government still can't break the Big Fancy Laws of Physics.

As far as we know.

Haha who are we kidding, no they fucking can't. They can't even make functioning ballot machines.

"What the hell kind of first responders can't even get to the scene in TWO HOURS?" Booth looked around, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand while his hat was on backwards and his sunglasses were tucked in his shirt collar.

Haha, dumbass.

Then they heard it.

Yes, they heard it.

I'm not sure what It is, but it's probably dark, ominous, and has a peppy theme song.

And sexist, and classist, and probably racist if you squint. That's right.

Paw Patrol.

Bounding down the highway came the clumsy-ass Dalmatian who probably knows less about both fire AND medicine than "Chicago Fire". And that's saying something!

But wait! Behind him is the German Shepard police dog, once again stereotyping dogs. What if my German Shepard wants to be a ballet dancer? I'm gonna become a mom so I can write a blog about this.

And can I just say… unrealistic body standards for dogs.

And next here comes… the… construction… dog.

That's right. For EMERGENCY FIRST RESPONDERS, in ORDER OF IMPORTANCE HERE, the MALE construction dog comes before the female helicopter dog. Just saying.

Oh and don't forget to recycle your lower-class filthy ass before you even think about that token female character just yet.

End of mom blog.

"Holy fuck." Angela mumbled as she watched the 10-foot-tall Marshall (fire dog) step on a car that previously only had a fender-bender, now killing all its occupants.

Their height has never been specified in the human world. EARTH.

Can you feel the amount of spite in this chapter yet? Honestly I don't know why either.

I am a first responder if that uh… no, it doesn't make it better. I just hope you're having fun. I sure am.

As more 10-foot-dogs piled onto the scene, the rest of the gang stepped out of the truck, and could hear various screams of anguish from under the dogs' feet. Oh sorry, their fucking paws.

"Um, we're here for a truck full of bodies?" Brennan introduced herself to a man with a clipboard.

He seemed disturbed by the dogs, as ANYONE WOULD, but he continued, a bit shaken. "Y-yeah, uh. Right this way." He led them to the back of a large white cargo truck, ignoring the carnage going on behind them with the dogs.

The scene inside the truck was bad. So many bodies, looking like they'd been taken from the morgue, with no signs of traumatic injuries, and clearly dead before the crash.

Unlike the screaming people behind them, getting stepped on by dogs who were trying to help.

Booth got hit in the back of the head with a splatter of blood, and he wiped it away numbly.

Even Angela was too disturbed to make some sarcastic comment.

The horrific screams became ambient noise as the shell-shocked gang looked at the mass of dead bodies who were fortunate enough to have died before experiencing this. These sounds will haunt the gang in their dreams, and will ring in their ears in the daytime. There's no going back to the way life was before.

"I'm tellin' you I'm innocent!" The truck driver walked over. "I'm just delivering these! I work for Amazon! Look, I got some same-day deliveries here, and I gotta get to their door before midnight. Can I please go!?"

Working for Amazon, it's no surprise this man was unfazed by the treacherous slaughter of human lives in the background.

"Where'd you get these bodies from, sir?" Brennan directed at him.

"The store."

"Oh. Well, yeah, go ahead then." Everyone else nodded. That made sense. Where else would you get stuff besides Amazon, amirite?

The man backed up his replacement truck (also ordered from Amazon) and started tossing bodies into the new truck.

Booth looked up at the dogs. "We gotta do something about this."

Brennan stood up on the roof of a smoking car. "Excuse me! Pups!"

The dogs turned and listened. One of them dropped a car that had been in its mouth.

"You need to stop!"

The police chase, Dog, stepped forward. "We can't, we were renewed for a 6th season!"

Booth dipped his head in surprise and whispered, "SIX?"

"Well, you need to do something about your lack of diversity and your blatant stereotyping. It's just perpetuating inequality in media, and the people are sick of it." Brennan spoke the truth, and she will be scorned for it.

"We did! We added another female dog!" Dog said excitedly. Too excitedly. He peed on a jeep.

"Oh, an add-on. I see. Where'd you get her, Firefox?" Angela stepped forward, her arms crossed.

"What do you want us to do? The show's already on."

Angela stepped forward. "You can carry on. Just remember. REMEMBER. It's never too late to change things up. Look, Last Man Standing replaced two different characters with totally different actresses six seasons in! THAT'S RIGHT SIX!"

"That's absurd." Dog said.

"Yeah, yeah no that was really not okay. But in the future? Leave room to grow. Hey, maybe someday there'll be an all-female reboot!"

"A what!" A male voice in a car cried.

"No way!" Another voice, more distant, was joined by other screeches of outrage in the cars piled up. They were genuinely more angry about this than the mass slaughter that just happened.

Dog looked confused. "What are they angry about?"

"Their childhoods." Brennan explained, then yelled at the guys in cars. "You don't need to victimize yourself, you're literally car wreck victims right now!"

Hodgins clashed two cymbals together. Or more.

"Where is your token female character, anyway?" Angela called up to the dogs.

A helicopter noise from somewhere off grew closer, and a large blonde dog landed on the overpass above them. Breaking it, and crashing down on several previously-unharmed vehicles.

"Here she is!" Dog cried. "Skye!"

Skye greeted Dog and Other Dogs while the gang turned to each other.

"Oh no."

"It can't be…"

"How is that even…"

Brennan finally said what they'd all feared: "Worcestershire Sauce."

She also said: "Hannah Burley"

"That's it." Angela tore her sleeves off. "We were nice to these pups before but I'm ready to throw paws now. Put em up!"

Booth, Brennan, Hodgins, Zack, and uh… Cam, oh and Sweets, fell into formation behind her.

As for the scene that followed, well, a country singer would describe it like this: It was a fist fightin', chair swingin', barstool breakin' throwdown with a split lip here and a pistol-whip there, here a smack, there a smack, everywhere a crack-whack until old mac donald packed up his farm and said to hell with his e's, i's and o's.

Everything Carrie Underwood did to that cheatin' bastard's car, our gang did to each of those dogs, tenfold.

And as for Hannah Burley? She calmly explained that she'd found a new life as a dog, and we already know she's a terrible pilot, so the gang decided she's also a terrible role model for women and should not be the lone character representing all women in this children's program.

If, for instance, 6 of the 7 main characters were FEMALE dogs/humans instead, she could be however dumb and quirky as she wants, and the one male character would carry the burden of representing all men and boys.

If ya haven't gotten it yet, are you getting it now?

BUT since 6 of the 7 main PAW PATROL characters are boys, women must make sure their representative is up to par with some pretty god damn high standards and also every personality trait at once!, so every little girl can see herself in that dog.

Nevermind about giving Paw Patrol another chance. Burn them to the fucking ground. All of em.

And that's what the gang did. They ate marshmallows over their fucking sexist bodies. And replaced the Hannah Burley dog with an ALL FEMALE REBOOT.

LET'S GOOOOOO!

The end. Finally. You're welcome for ending it.

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As always, I'm ashamed to say that not this chapter, nor any others, were inspired by or written on drugs or alcohol. This chapter is brought to you by a random note I had in my phone saying "the gang fights Paw Patrol to the death", which I wrote while reading a surprisingly emotional Victorious fanfiction. Throw me some themes you wanna see. I'm thinking video games next? Please comment or I'll make more chapters. That's a threat.