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Dobby relished his groinsaw's roar as he withdrew the flesh-choked blade from the astronaut's ruined skull. He turned to Harry, thrusting his bloody, retina-covered pelvis with elfin fervor.
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"Master, look out!"
Dobby's groinsaw screamed as it flew off the armor, rocketing through the air like an early dream of mankind. It flew through three astronauts who dropped their hellspears as the saw cut a hole in the ground beneath them so they fell to hell and the demonic spheres
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"Now, Dobby."
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"You know how I hate chumpits."
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Harry slammed his book shut. It wasn't really a book, because the pages were made of lasers and the words were made of headless women making godless love to dragons made out of motorcycles, but it was still reading.
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Harry cast a glance at the book. Unsavory sounds emanated from a particularly damned chapter. He was hungry. He looked at a nearby cup. It had a faded brown film on the bottom. He thought about chumpits.
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Harry had found some food. It was guarded by three and a million thousandsurf ninjas, for it was the last food on Surf Ninja Moon X. The ecology had been decimated by surf ninjas, so the last food was a cabbage and mustard sandwich. Harry squatted in the ruins of a castle which had been many skulls arranged to resemble one large one. It had been poorly done, with the cheeks fading into an amateurishly executed jaw line. The silent killers of the night had negated their innate advantage by only plying their craft on surf boards. During the day.
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Harry was about to eat his cabbagewich when a man in a tuxedo appeared from behind nothing much. He stood ten feet tall and his head seemed wrapped in unwrappable darkness.
"I am
Harry dug a bit of cartilage out of the cabbagewich and continued chewing.
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"You shouldn't believe what everyone says about me. I took a shower with my cousin, once. And I have racist thoughts."
A nibbet of yellow cartilage landed on
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The inquisitors were torturing Harry.
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They realized that they were all men of the lord.
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Harry awoke to the throaty grumble of a rape ape.▼
Not ''a'' rape ape, but ''the'' rape ape, the last of his kind after the subjugation of the rapeforest. His people once graced the canopy, their penile digits proudly grasping the vines as they swung through the night, their hundreds of sweaty simian dongs trailing a now-fetid memory in the rape ape's watering eye. As his ocular ducts began to well with ancestral pride, so too did the countless meaty members sprouting from the rape ape's every hairy inch. From his eye sockets, ear holes, even his calloused toes, a penile font of cry-juice birthed a deluge.▼
▲Not ''a''
Harry observed this with consternation, as he was tied to a table. Neither magic nor supracosmic strength would free him from his bonds. Had this creature access to an unknown material of deistic strength? Or did the rape ape have a secret yet more baffling?▼
▲Harry observed this with consternation, as he was tied to a table. Neither magic nor supracosmic strength would free him from his bonds. Had this creature access to an unknown material of deistic strength? Or did the
Harry squinted so he could see the subatomic strings of the ropes. He began tossing antimatter at them with his mind as a group of children entered the rape ape's hiding place. They were well-groomed and impeccably attired, and there were 5.8 of them, just enough to represent an array of genders and races that would leave no one unhappy, save for the Eskimos. They were on their own, as far as the rape ape was concerned.▼
▲Harry squinted so he could see the subatomic strings of the ropes. He began tossing antimatter at them with his mind as a group of
"Why do you cry, rape ape?" asked child 3.2.▼
The rape ape, unwilling to hide its greasy primate cock tears, hung its head, and gravity coaxed the eye wangers downward. It tied them together into a bow atop its head, to be pretty for its guests.▼
▲The
"We are bound in this ligature of lingam, brother rape ape," said child 4.6.▼
The children surrounded rape ape, holding their hands, and began to sing. Harry was transfixed as he watched the children, gently swaying with the song, float skyward. The little ones began to orbit the rape ape, who was convulsing as though stricken by the seizure devil. As the song increased in tempo the childflesh bubbled and merged into a spinning wonder turbine. The fleshy kidmass sprouted hair and groin dribblers just like the rape ape, and sprayed confetti into skies of past and future, setting the constellations aflame with the opalescent of the perished rape apes. An explosion of color and hair left Harry Potter alone and still bound. He thought about sandwiches.▼
▲The
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Harry Potter awoke in a pit that reeked of hot sauce. He could feel viscous fluid under his fingernails, burning the tender skin. Everywhere were white bags bulging with foul product. They were diapers stuffed with chicken bones and hot sauce, their foul odor blossoming in the muffled dark. Harry's nostrils begged his brain for mercy. He flew upwards, away from the saucy mysteries below. The smell grew faint, calling him to return. Harry ignored their lies, flying beyond the lips of his prison. He was in a laboratory, with machines that had no purpose beyond blinking lights and soft hums.
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Harry drank the glass of thumb water and spat the thumb at the old man's head.
<p style="text-align: left;">Severus Snapplebottom began his life as a hand on which were perched each of the five first presidents of a country called America. The first two presidents, Geheb and Swonash, were turned into ashes by a passing wave of fast food regulation. Their ashes were consumed by children in various Wendy's establishments. Each plastic packet was a coffin for their memory, and no one knew their name, even though they were listed on the ingredient list. These children became soldiers in wars fought for control of who had all the bullets. Whoever shot the most bullets the fastest won.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">The third president, Wahooley, went to a country that was nothing but a desert with half buried turkeys. Sometimes turkey butts were above the sand, sometimes a leg, or a head. Wahooley tripped and fell into a turkey head, where he was eaten and ordained as a rabbi. He was sent to trim the beards of 157 toads, whose beards were absorbing the water that was used for the next year's crop of shovels. Without these shovels, the peasants would be unable to shovel the ashes of their children from the bullet wars. Wahooley took these beards and formed a lasso. This lasso was a ropey wonder. He used it to tear off his penis and write the 13 commandments of America upon a passing eagle, in cock's blood:</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">1: You are stupid.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">2: Baby, someone cut off my dick and wrote an America with it.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">3: If a whale tries to sell you a pumpkin, don't.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">4: Your head is an artifice. Throw it away, but don't let anyone see you do it or you'll be kicked out of school.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">5: Always collect a ghost's shadow if it leaves one behind. It will be worth something someday.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">6: Starbucks napkins are hereby the new currency, but only after they are smeared upon the corpse of a mule. The exchange rate will be 13 mules to one napkin.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">7: Taxi cabs will be used to build a pyramid with 290 sides. It will be the white house, and the president will live there for 17 years at a time, while you eat your children's ashes on a bun.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">8: On Father's day, you will enter an invisible box and be plunged into the ocean. There, you will enter an undersea candy store, but you will never have enough Starbucks napkins to get what you want.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">9: It is all spam, all of it. Check the box and delete it. Now delete yourself, for you are spam.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">10: All clocks will be inscribed with the entirety of the alphabet to save time. This is the alphabet:</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">6+7=A</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">14*12= B</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">16 - {eleventy two}= President Wahooley</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">And so on, until you reach the period, which is the end of the alphabet.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">11: All previous constitutions were writ by false writers, whose passing eagles were inferior and whose cocks had fewer things in them. Accept only the American cockstitution.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">12: Spend your adolescence as a duck, waddling in a circle, until you become an egg full of dust.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">13. All time is a knotted ball. You can hide it anywhere in your body, and it is still time.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">President number four, whose name was not a name, but a multitude of hot dogs in the shape of swastikas, decided that he would create the Gilded Age. This was a time in which every edge was embossed with a golden trim, like a wedding cake invented by Thomas Edison. All the women wore bonnets made of butter, and were picked up by their feet and spread on toast in the summer. It was all for naught, because this was not the toast of the righteous. It was a feeble toast, one which withered with the coming of the sun. Not even the crows would touch it, preferring the taste of mouldering poop water. But the crows were put in dresses and sold to the highest bidder, where they underwent liposuction.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">President five disliked the conservative leanings of his brothers, so he became an infinite two-dimensional grid of pink and green squares. Each square had a vagina upon it. These vaginas each emitted a spear of light, upon which was skewered an endless succession of planets. Each carried a culture dedicated to a single sex act. The further down the skewer the planet was, the more orifices possessed by its denizens, and the more gymnastic their sexual culture. The worlds...</p>
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Harry Potter lay, dreaming. In his mind there is a hat, suspended. It comes unhinged, travelling beyond the dream. The hat finds a sunlit hill, studded with flowers and children gorging themselves on chocolate. Chewing faces are smeared with brown residue. Perched atop the hill on its brim, the hat is still. It rolls down the hill, skating between the chocolate-stuffed children. It comes to one child, and stops. Without chocolate, the child stares blankly at its neighbors, filled with emptiness. The hat points its empty bottom at the child and sprays a glittering beam of rainbows. They encircle the child's hands, transforming them into chocolate. Tears of joy streak down the child's smile as it begins eating its hands. The hat flies into the sky. The child waves a brown stump.
The hat ascends to a palace of clouds. Within, God, bearded and weeping, sits beside a mountain of tiny angels. One by one, he picks them up and tears off their wings. He then places them into separate baskets. The hat approaches god, and the rainbow is deployed. It encircles God's crotch. A giant chocolate phallus emerges from God's robes. Dropping his broken angel, he breaks off a piece of his candy member and smears it on his lips. With a chocolate-studded smile, he slowly raises his fist and gives the hat a thumbs-up.
The hat travels into space. It finds itself before the sun. It is a tiny dot before the immensity of the cosmic fire. The hat trembles. A tremendous rainbow issues forth, embracing the sun like a wedding vow. The fire cools and deadens. A chocolate tidal wave roars from its poles and meets at the center. On earth, the skies blacken. The flowers turn to dust. Humanity expires silently, like an infant in its crib. The hat drifts through space, dreamless.
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