It was a peaceful day in Magiland. The birds were singing. Butterflies were fluttering. Old Man Johnson was having a wank while peering through Lucy Valentine's bathroom window. Everything was perfectly normal and calm. But then a giant cosmic anus opened in the sky, dropping our protagonists and about six hundred beer cans right on top of a man with a tuba, causing him to play his last note, which for all intents and purposes, sounded like a sumo wrestler farting a big ol' wet one.

"Ow! What the fuck was that?" MMSJ shouted, rubbing his sore fanny while doing so.

Picking himself up, Fucko replied, "I have no idea, but I'm going to go ahead and guess we just got pulled into some sort of alternate dimension where magick is real and for some reason technology still developed the same way as it did in our reality, but just a thousand years behind us."

That made MMSJ raise an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"Well, if you look over there, you can see a knight riding a gryphon and I basically deduced the rest from there."

MMSJ nodded his head. "And here I was thinking it was because you're the author to this story and you had some insider info-"

The beautiful, genius, and totally rad Fucko stomps on his friend's foot hard, stopping MMSJ midthought. He hisses, "Shut up! The audience isn't supposed to know that we're based on two real schizophrenic doofuses!"

Apologizing, MMSJ hurries up the action in this scene and points to the tuba. "Am I right in assuming that the fantasy land we just got telefragged to is the one you were writing?"

Absolute horror sweeps over Fucko, like he just found out that he's in Hell and was told that his punishment is to watch My Little Pony for eternity. Then something strikes him, and he calms down a bit. Still tense, Fucko starts putting together a plan. "Ok, so we might be fucked or we might be the luckiest two bastards in the history of mankind."

Puzzled and out of the loop, MMSJ asks, "What do you mean?"

With a dead serious glimmer in his eye, Fucko responds, "There's no time to explain. We need to find out where we are, and fast!"

Accepting his best friend's leadership for the first time since they friggin' met, MMSJ nods and begins following Fucko over to a conveniently placed blacksmith's workshop. The blacksmith, whom they would learn was named Barry, was too busy clanging away at some sort of steel dildo to have noticed the stranger's abrupt arrival to Magiland, but he stopped when the pair approached his anvil.

"Wha' can eye do ya fer, fellas?" he asked kindly while wiping his brow, hoping for more work.

Fucko answered first, a plan already brewing in his balding head. "My fine craftsman, my friend and I are travelers of the road and we wandered here without a map. Can you tell us where we are?"

"Why, yer in Spider Springs, mah friend. Best damn pig's vomit yogurt in all a' Magiland right 'ere, eye tell ya," Barry answered. As he did so, he scooped up a bowl with a thick white mush in it, before taking the spoon and gobbling up a mouthful.

Unphased, MMSJ looked on without as much as a second thought. He had eaten worse at the shadiest dive bars on Earth. Meanwhile, Fucko almost heaved his lunch up then and there. While bile built up in his throat, Fucko grabbed his friend by the wrist and tugged him away whilst thanking the kind Barry, which now that I think about it, didn't have a chance to tell them his name so I guess I have to edit this stupid thing. Eh, fuck it, you're all big boys and girls and can handle a little incongruity in your story.

"You're fucking up your tenses, too," MMSJ interjected.

"What?" Fucko replied, too preoccupied with figuring out what they were going to do next.

"Well, you went from past tense to present tense and now we're back in past tense," the self-aware story character says, fucking up the tense once more.

Fucko stops, and facepalms. "That's the least of our worries right now, dude. Besides it works out because the story flows better this way because of how I laid out the action, the dialogue, and the metadiscourse. But, forget that because we have a serious problem."

"What's that?"

Looking his friend right in the eye, with an air of raw seriousness in his ocular organs, Fucko says, "Because right now there's an army of horny skeletons looking for meat to wear marching right for this quaint little town."

Can I get another Duh duh duh, please?

I bet you can't wait for part three! It's got dinosaurs that breathe fire, because fuck stereotypical dragons.