All the universe has led up to this moment. Tensions were high. Everything revolved around our eclectic superhero and schizohop DJ, Mecha Mutant Space Jesus, whose face was red in concentration. Sweat beaded on his forehead like he had just played a round of Through the Fire and Flames in Dance Dance Revolution. It was now or never. With one last deep breath, MMSJ hunkered down with all his might. At first there was nothing, but then…

Plunk!

With a sigh of relief, MMSJ gets up off the porcelain throne while his automatic wiping mechanism rubs a roll of coarse sandpaper across his transparent aluminum bootyhole. A quick fastening of his spray painted pants and a flick of ol' faithful's handle later, and our hero leaves the poo room feeling accomplished. Kratom shits were no small deal. And no, he didn't wash his hands; the mechanized mutant simply sweats sanitizer and barbecue sauce. Don't ask why he's got the BBQ pores. That question has more answers than you can shake a stick at.

Sashaying through his mom's trailer epic palace, the half alien, half monster, and half blender madman stops briefly in the kitchen to consume his favorite snack of all time: electric eel sushi rolls. As the sparks of free-flowing electrons burst out of his mouth, MMSJ closes his eyes and grins to himself. What a perfect day, his central core processor says to itself. The only way it could get better is if I had some ketamine and Robotussin Kool-aid.

Hearing his best friend's telepathic emanations, our other favorite superhero, the illustrious Fucko the Clown, waltzes out of their bedroom and makes a suggestion.

"Hey, we could sell our asses and make some skrilla to buy that special K from Agent Bob, if you're down with it, I mean."

MMSJ rolls his kaleidoscopic eyes. "C'mon bro, you know I don't like assplay. Besides, I got a girl now. I might have gotten her pregnant so I need to get my shit together."

Fucko just shrugged his shoulders. "That's cool, but you can't tell me you're going to quit drugs on me, now are you?"

The jovial titular character chuckles. "Only squares quit drugs, my dude. I've been doing drugs since before I was born, and I'll keep doing them after I'm dead."

Suddenly, there's a time skip because fuck you this is how I tell stories. The dynamic duo of the underground are now chilling in their room. MMSJ is blaring some trippy beats from an artist so obscure even her mom hasn't heard of her, while Fucko is fervently typing away on the floor where he sleeps, right next to the Great Beeramids of Natty Daddy. MMSJ looks up from his tablet and watches his best bud working hard at something that appears important, as Fucko has barely touched his cocaine-laced coffee. Curious, MMSJ asks, "Whatchoo writing there, broski?"

Without looking up, Fucko curtly announces, "A book." Some annoying pestering from his friend later and Fucko lets up that his muse has stopped going reverse cowgirl on his mental daemons and is wailing about an epic fantasy story involving all sorts of battles, magick, mystery, and a tuba playing protagonist. Impressed, MMSJ praises Fucko's creativity.

"Keep at it man, sounds like you got a best seller right there."

That causes Fucko to finally put his phone down. He sighs. "I dunno, man. I feel like I've just shit out whatever came to mind and the only people that would dig it are the cats at r/ShrugLifeSyndicate."

MMSJ waves Fucko's fears away. "Nonsense, you're a fantastic writer! You're going to become famous for your incredibly unique stories. No one on Earth, and maybe Pluto, can write like you do, bud."

Fucko looks away, distressed. When he's ready, he looks back at his friend on the bed. "Well, thanks for the encouragement, but the plot has so many problems that I don't think I can wrap it all up in a way that makes sense or even has an iota of enjoyment for someone who's not a complete schizo nutcase."

At that, Fucko's phone begins talking. "THEN HOW ABOUT I HELP YOU, FOOLISH PEON!?"

Surprised by the abrupt plot twist of their own, both our heroes stare at the device which I'm just going to tell you has become possessed by a [Redacted] named [Also Redacted]. They don't have time to do anything else though, as all of a sudden a prismatic portal opens up in the room, sucking up both MMSJ and Fucko, as well as the hoard of beer cans and other trash that made the place feel like home.

Duh duh duh!

Stay tuned for part two of this incredible tale that has no equal! Coming soon!