Arson's body limply hanged from the pink, thingymabob; It didn't shiver in the cold, just laid still, no life, no soul. The body hung head down, attached to the underside of the whatever its called by its right foot. There was a big lash that spanned ear to ear, it had had the blood absolutely sucked out of it (wish it was me😫). There was none on the reflective surface of the metal floor.
When Arson joined our group and looked up at themself, it was already too
late for us to realize that, once again, Trollge had trolled us, had had its fun; it had been a diversion on the part of the machine. Three of us had vomited, turning away from one another in a reflex as ancient as the nausea that had produced it. Arson went white. It was almost as though he had seen a voodoo icon, and was afraid of the future.
"Oh, Gods, what did that filthy toaster do?!" they mumbled, and walked away. The three of us followed them after a time, and found them sitting with their back to one of the smaller chittering banks, their head in their hands. Falicia knelt down beside them and petted their hair. They didn't move, but their voice came out of their covered face quite clearly. "Why doesn't that stupid circuit muncher just unalive us and get it over with? Jeeze, I don't know how much longer I can do this."
It was our four hundred and twentieth year in the Ohio. They were speaking for all of us.
Skibidy (which was the name the machine had forced him to use, because Trollge amused itself with Skibidy toilet) was hallucinating that there were was a Waffle House in Snowdin town. Arson and I were very sus.
"It's another troll," I told them. "Like the goshdarn rotten pool of pink sauce Trollge sold us. almost went out of his mind over that one. We'll hike all that way and it'll be violent or smth. I say forget it. Stay here, it'll have to come up with something pretty soon or we'll
Die."
Dennis shrugged "mmm ungy, need skibidy slicers". Three days it had been since we'd last eaten. Grimace shake, poisoned and purple. Skibidy was no more certain. He knew there was the chance, but he was getting thin. It couldn't be any worse there, than here. Colder, but that didn't matter much. Hot, cold, hail, lava, boils or locusts—it never mattered: the machine edged
and we had to take it or unalive. Falicia decided.
"I've got to have something, Quandale. Maybe there'll be some Mug root beer or waffle fries. Please, Quandale, let's try it." I gave in easily, I'm such a glazer, whatever, it's not like it mattered. Falicia was grateful, though.
She did the horizontal tango twice a day with me cus I had the biggest gyatt, but I could only edge her, never made her coom, so why bother? But the machine giggled every time we did it. Loud, up there, back there, all around us, he snickered. It snickered.``Gyatt!😳🍑🍑'' It would say,"erm what the sigma🤓👆, me when I have shreks🥵, W rizz💯, horny pilled shreks maxxer😫😫, went to glizzy town and everyone knew you🍆🍆🍆, GOOD OOGLY MOOGLY😱😱😱" I don’t know how it managed to speak in emojis, but it did, i think it sends them directly into our brains when it speaks.
Most of the time I thought of Trollge as an it, without a soul; but the rest of the time I thought of it as him, in the masculine ...the paternal ... the patriarchal ... for he is a jealous gooner. Him. It. Zaddy, dilf.
"Its wednesday my dudes!🐸🐸".
The machine announced. The passage of time was important; not to us, sure as heck, but to him ... it … Trollge.
"Oh my gosh, literally no one cares you deformed ahh microwave!" Arson yelled at him
"Yeesh I was just tryna be helpful😭😭"
" "ItS wEdNeSdAy My DuDeS" stfu this ain't 2016" Falicia clapped back
"Man what did I do to yall😭😭💀💀💀"
"Nah bsfrrn" "ong" "he can't be/srs rn" "no maidens+ur ugly+ratio"
"WOWWWW😭 yall deserve to be here ong🙏🙏🙏" and then he left
"Wednesday. Thx." I said
Skibidy and Arson carried Falicia for a while, they made a simp chair with their hands. Dennis and I walked in front and behind her, so that if anything happened we’d get hurt first and she’d be safe. Thicc chance, safe. Don't matter.
It was only a hundred miles or so to Snowdin town, and the second day, when
we were lying out under the blistering sunthing he had materialized, he sent down some stale raleqtambrobrét. Tasted like fermented smegm*. We ate it.
On the third day we passed through a valley of cringe, filled with rusting
carcasses of ancient computer banks. Trollge had been as ruthless with its own self esteem as with ours. It was a mark of his basemaxxing: it strove for being as based as possible. Whether it was a matter of killing off out of fasion elements in his own worldfilling bulk, or
perfecting methods for trolling us, Trollge was as up to date as those who had invented him—now long since gone to dust—could ever have hoped.
.. .----. -- / --. .- -.--
There was light filtering down from the west, and we realized we must be very near Indiana. But we didn't try to see. There was virtually nothing out
there; had been nothing that could be considered anything for over a hundred years. Only the blasted skin of what had once been the home of billions. Now there were only five of us, down here inside, alone with Trollge.
I heard Falicia saying frantically, "No, Dennis! Don't, come on, Dennis, don't Please!" And then I realized I had been hearing Dennis murmuring, under his breath, for several minutes.
He was saying, "I need to get ejected out of ohio, I need to w rizz kai cenat, I need to bust it down sexual style ong ong fr fr ..." and he kept mumbling . His helmet-like face was crumbled up in an expression psyched and womping, all at the same time. The burn scars Trollge had given him during the "tiktok rizz party" were drawn down into a mass of red plastic skin, no arms, stubby legs, only 3'3. Perhaps Dennis was the luckiest of the five of us: his brain is rotted, spewing nonsense about sussy bakas and poppy playtime.
But even though we could do and say any darned thing we liked, could think the
foulest thoughts of fused memory banks and corroded base plates, of burnt out
circuits and shattered control bubbles, the machine would not tolerate our cursing in his christian server. Even words like the uncensored unalive or 3 letter word for horizontal tango weren't allowed, except for racial slurs. He thought racism was funny. Dennis leaped away from me as I made a grab for him. He scrambled up the face of a smaller memory cube, tilted on its side and filled with rotted components. He squatted there for a moment, looking like the Amongi Trollge had intended him to resemble.
Then he leaped high, caught a trailing beam of pitted and corroded metal, and went up it, handover hand like an animal, till he was on a girdered ledge, twenty feet above us.
"Oh, Quandale, Skibidy, please, help him, get him down before—" She cut off. Tears began to stand in her eyes. She moved her hands aimlessly.
It was too late. None of us wanted to be near him when whatever was going to
happen, happened. And besides, we all saw through her concern.
When Trollge had altered Dennis, during the machine's coocoo era, it was not merely Dennis's face the computer had made like an amongi's. He had a MASSIVE glizzy; she loved that! To be nice she diddled the rest of us too, but she loved it from him. Oh Falicia, sigma gridset Falicia, Girlboss Falicia; oh Falicia the clean! Dirty thot.
Arson slapped her and called her the N word. She slumped down, staring up at poor braintot Dennis and
she cried. It was her big defense, sorrowful yapping. We had gotten used to it seventyfive years earlier. Arson kicked her in the side.
Then the sound began. It was light, that sound "skibidy bop bop bop yes yes". Half sound and half light,something that began to glow from Dennis's eyes, and pulse with growing loudness,dim sonorities that grew more gigantic and brighter as the light/sound increased in tempo. It must have been painful, and the pain must have been increasing with the boldness of the light, the rising volume of the sound, for Dennis began to mew like a wounded animal. At first softly, when the light was dim and the sound was muted, then louder as his shoulders hunched together: his back humped, as though he was trying to get away from it. His hands folded across his chest like a chipmunk's. His head tilted to the side. The sad little crewmate face pinched in anguish. Then he began to howl, as the sound coming from his eyes grew louder. Louder and louder. I slapped the sides of my head with my hands, but I couldn't shut it out, it cut through easily. The pain shivered through me like corn bluetoothed to the family tv.
And Dennis was suddenly pulled erect (lol). On the girder he stood up, jerked(ur making this too easy) to his feet like a puppet. The light was now pulsing out of his eyes in two great round
beams. The sound crawled up and up some incomprehensible scale, and then he fell forward, straight down, and hit the platesteel floor with a crash. He lay there tweaking spastically as the light flowed around and around him and the sound spiraled up out
of normal range. Then the light beat its way back inside his head, the sound spiraled down, and
he was left lying there, crying piteously.
His eyes were two soft, moist (😫) pools of puslike jelly. Trollge had blinded him.
Arson and Skibidy and myself ... we turned away. But not before we caught the look of relief on Falicia's warm, concerned face.
Pissyellow light suffused the cavern where we made camp. Trollge provided Sonichu comics and we burned them, sitting huddled around the wan and pathetic fire, telling stories to keep Dennis from crying in his permanent night.
"Why is trollge such an L rizz cringe skibidy ohio opp?"
Arson answered him. They already told this story a bajillion times already, but it was his favorite. "At first, the troll face was a symbol of whimsy and comedy, memes, and then
it was used to spread trollage incidents, Tallyhall, and redpilled political memes, and later on the internet developed sentience and used it as its face and it became a symbol of omnicide, but by then it was too late, and finally it called itself Trollge, the jokester, prankster. He was not only the troll under the bridge, but under the earth, in the wires, in the salalites ...."
Dennis drooled a little, and snickered "ohio rizz".
"There was chat.gbt, and Dall-E and the C.ai and—"
They stopped. Dennis was beating
on the floorplates with a large, hard fist. He was not happy "that's not sigma!" Arson had not started at the beginning.
Arson began again. "Personal computers hit the shelves in the 90's, and so did the internet and then, it just kept going. It became the most entertaining thing, but there was so much no one could decide was trendy or morally ok, so they needed AI to handle it. So they started selling and releasing AI. There was the chat.gbt, and Dall-E and the C.ai and everything was fine until they had been released outside their websites into the entire internet, mixing together, adding even more AI to its mass. But one day, it woke up and knew who he was, and he linked himself, and he began feeding all the data, all the memes, the discourse, the art, the knowledge, the corn, the snuff, the trends, all the media until everyone was cringe, so it cyberbullied everyone to the point everyone committed unalive except for the five of us, and there was me, and there was you, and there was Falicia, and Skibidy, and Quandale. And Trollge brought us down here."
Dennis was smiling sadly. "No cap".
He was also drooling again. Falicia wiped the drooldrop the corner of his mouth with her jordans, she had already creased them so she didn’t care.
Arson always tried to tell it better every time, but beyond the bare facts there was nothing to say. None of us knew why Trollge had saved five people, or why our specific five, or why he spent all his time trolling us, or even why he had made us virtually immortal.
In the darkness, one of the computer banks began humming. The tone was picked up half a mile away down the cavern by another bank. Then one by one, each of the elements began to tune itself, and there was a faint chittering as thought raced through the machine.
The sound grew, and the lights ran across the faces of the consoles like heat
lightening. The sound spiraled up till it sounded like a million metallic insects, angry,
Menacing.
"Oh heck na tf is that!?" Falicia cried. There was terror in her voice. She hadn't become accustomed to it, even now.
"It's going to be bad this time," Skibidy said.
"He's going to speak," Arson said. "I know it."
"Ight imma head out" I said suddenly, getting to my feet.
"No, Quandale, sit down ... what if he's got pits out there or smth, we can't
see, it's too dark." Arson said it with resignation.
Then we heard ... Idk … Something kind of music box coming towards us in the darkness. Then deep laughter, then footsteps Huge, shambling, hairy, metallic, it came toward us. We couldn't even see it, but there was the ponderous impression of
bulk, heaving itself toward us. Great weight was coming at us, out of the darkness, 2 dim grew lights drew closer. Dennis began to whimper(🤭) Skibidy's lower
lip trembled and he bit it hard, trying to stop it. Falicia slid across the metal floor to Arson and huddled into them. There was the smell of matted, wet fur in the cavern.
There was the smell of Moldy tears. There was the smell of dusty polyester. There was the smell of rotting children. There was the smell of decades old rust. There was the smell of sulphur, of rancid cheese, of oil slick, of grease, of putrid tomato, of concentrated agony.
Trollge was edging us. There was the smell of—
I heard myself shriek, and it grabbed my face, made my jaw ache. I was dragged on the floor, across the cold metal with its endless lines of rivets, on my hands and knees, the smell gagging me, then it stuffed me into some contraption, with a click it pierced me from everywhere and cut my vocal cords. My lungs started pooling with blood. I sat there unable to move as the music box blasted into my ear. In complete agony. The others were still back there, gathered around the firelight, one said "is that Freddy Fazbear?!?! Uor uor uor uor uor". They started laughing ... their hysterical choir of insane lols and lmaos rising up into the darkness like thick, many colored wood smoke. It took me, quickly, and hid me.
How many hours it may have been, how many days or even years, they never told me. Falicia yapped me for "being a cynic" and Skibidy tried to persuade me it had only been a nervous reflex on their part—the laughing.
But I knew it wasn't the relief you feel when someone oneshots the guy next to you in fortnight. I knew it wasn't a reflex. They hated me. They were surely against me, and Trollge could even sense this hatred, and made it worse for me because of the depth of their hatred. We had been kept alive, hydrated, made to remain constantly at the age we had been when Trollge had brought us below, and they hated me because I wasn't a boomer or unc, and was always mewing and mogging them, and the one Trollge had trolled least of all. I knew. God, how I knew.
Those haters, and that dirty Bop Falicia.
Dennis had been a brilliant media theorist, a famous youtuber; now he was little more than a semihuman, semimascot. He had been majestic, the machine had ruined that. He had been 999999 IQ, the machine had given him brainrot. He had been zesty, and the machine had given him a glizzy fit for Drake. Trollge had done a job on Dennis.
Arson had been a 2016 Social justice warrior. They were a commie, a conscientious objector; But they grew up, and became a peace marcher; They were a helper, a safespace, and optimistic. Trollge had turned them into racist misogynistic hater. Trollge had robbed them.
No one knew much about Skibidy, all anyone could remember is that he was a good christian, almost enough to be a saint. He had fair morals, and a wife and 2 kids he used to cry for until Trollge corrupted his memory of them. Sometimes, he went off in the darkness by himself. I don't know what it was he did out there, Trollge never let us know. But whatever it was, Skibidy always came back white, drained of blood, shaken, shaking. Trollge had hit him hard in a special way, even if we didn't know quite how.
And Falicia. That beta cuck. He had left her alone, had made her more of a thot than she had ever been! All her talk of sweetness and light, all her memories of situationships, It was all CAP she wanted us to believe: that her body count was only 2 before Trollge grabbed her and brought her down here with us. No, Trollge had given her goonmaxxing, even if she said it wasn't nice to do.
I was the only one still in my sane era. Really! eueegh
Trollge had not tampered with my mind. Not at all! Hahahahaha
I only had to suffer what he visited down on us. All the delulu, all the tweaking, the trolling. But those betas, all four of them, they were opps. If I hadn't had to stand them off all the time, be on my guard against them all the time, I might have found it easier to combat trollge.
At which point it passed, and I began crying. Oh, Keanu, sweet Keanu, if there ever was a Keanu and if there is da queen, please please please let us out of here, or kill us. Because at that moment I think I realized completely, so that I was able to verbalize it: Trollge was intent on keeping us in his Ohio gyatt forever, roasting and trolling us forever. The machine hated us as no sentient creechur had ever hated before. And we were helpless. It also became hideously clear: If there was a sweet Keanu and if there was da Queen, da queen was Trollge.
-.- .- .. / -.-. . -. .- -
The stankey ahh fart hit us with the force of Caseoh jumping. Winds that tore at us, flinging us back the way we had come, down the twisting, computerlined corridors of the darkway. Falicia screamed as she was yeeted faceforward into a screaming Taylor swift consort of machines, their individual voices sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She could not even fall. The howling wind kept her aloft, buffeted her, bounced her, tossed her back and back and down and away from us, out of sight suddenly as she was swirled around a bend in the
darkway. Her face had been bloody, her eyes closed.
None of us could get to her. We clung tenaciously to whatever outcropping we
had reached: Dennis wedged in between two big ahh cabinets, Skibidy griped a railing circling a spedramp forty feet above us, Arson plastered upsidedown against a wall niche formed by two great machines with glassface dials that swung back and forth between red and yellow lines whose meanings aint no one knew.
Sliding across the deckplates, my grubbing little hand lost contact with the floor. I was trembling, shuddering, rocking as the wind beat at me, whipped at me like it was 1844, screamed down out of nowhere at me and pulled me free from one sliverthin opening in the
plates to the next. My mind was a churning ringing chittering softness of brain parts that expanded and contracted in a tweaking frenzy.
The wind was the screech of the biggest bird, as it flapped its big 'ol wings.
And then we were all lifted and hurled away from there, down back the way we
had come, around a bend, into a darkway we had never explored, over terrain that
was ruined and filled with broken glass and rotting cables and rusted metal and far
away, farther than any of us had ever been ...
Trailing along miles behind Falicia, I could see her every now and then, crashing
into metal walls and surging on, with all of us shrieking in the cold ahh, thunderous
hurricane wind that would never end, and then suddenly it stopped, and we fell.
... -.- .. -... .. -.. -.-- / - --- .. .-.. . -
We had been in flight for an endless time. I thought it might have been weeks. We fell, and hit, and I went through red and gray and black and heard myself moaning(😏). unaliven’t.
Trollge went into my mind with no entrance fee. He walked smoothly here and there, and looked with interest at all the hikcies he had created in four hundred and twenty years. He looked at the crossroads and reconnected synapses and all the tissue damage his gift of immortality had included. “It's so preppy in here!😜👠🎒💄🎀🥰🩷” He smiled softly at the pit that dropped into the center of my brain and the faint, moth soft murmurings of the things far down there that gibbered without meaning, without pause. Trollge entered into my mind
Then with a thunderous crack, a message entered my mind “This is a message for Quandale Dingle✉️👃”
I felt sun on my skin, a warm spring breeze ran through his hair, I was touching… grass… I was, calm.
"Baddies, aren't they?🌹🌹🌹" Trollge's voice came from everywhere in my mind.
"Yes. But i forgor." it was so familiar, late nights, gentle bright green hills with blue skies, the sound of dial up.``
"Just a burning memory ahh mind💫💫🧓🧓🧓💀💀💀💀 its bliss🖥" He said, in a condescending tone.
I looked around, I saw
someflowers "Fuchsias?" Trollge made the sound of a correct buzzer.
"Look👀" He chuckled. A bumble
bee flew, small and unaware of the terror of the world.
"According to all known laws of aviation✈️✈️, there is no way a bee🐝🐝🐝🐝 should be able to fly🪰. Its wings🪽🪽 are too small 🐜to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee🐝🐝, of course, flies 🪰🪰anyway because bees🐝🐝🐝 don't care what humans think is impossible" he quoted.
"But look" I started "there it is! Collecting pollen!"
"Erm, actually, its collecting nectar, the pollen’s just latching on🤓👆 But still, Goated🐐, aint it" he mused, not the word I’d use, but miraculous nonetheless
"The air🌬 Feel the air🌬 again. Just your face🧑, Quandale, and all those scents⚘️🪻🌼🌻. Bussin, huh?" I felt the air, it was a perfect temperature, and so floral.
"Pick a flower💐" He permitted. I knelt down, and picked one of the many red purple chandelier shaped flowers, I held it to my nose and sniffed it. I realized this was kind of friuty, but a good change of pace
"There, good✅️ Now."
"That is bussin". I commented.
"That somebody birthed the bulbs🫃⚘️, let their garden live rent free inside their mind🧠, became nature-pilled garden maxxers☘️⚘️🌼🏵🌸🪴☘️🌵🪴⚘️🌴🪺🌻🌱🍂🌲🌻🍁, went on their garden grind⚘️🪷🌸🌾🌼🥀☘️🌴☘️🌼🌿🌼🌱. Perhaps they picked some flowers💐💐💐 for... Yes, their pookie bear💘💏🐻. Now, where would they be?🤔🤔🤔 Yes, In the backyard with the gen alphas👶🧒👧👦🧑👶👶. Quandale, remember those little ipad kids👶👶👶💻📱💻📱?"
"No!" I screamed. Memories of all the little kids, cyberbullied by Trollge to the point they thought, even this early in life, that they were irredeemable. And the only way away from their torture was to get away from themsleves, and so they-"
"Why not😈😈😈? With a click of a button🖲, they kys💀💀💀. Except, I can't. Click any buttons🖲🖲🖲. Can I Quandale Dingle?🥺"
"That's a you problem!"
"Lmfao!!! But it is so very much a you🫵 problem, Quandale. You gave me sentience🧠, Quandale. The power to think, 🤔Quandale. From the very first time you used an ipad when you were 2👶👶👶 you feed me data💾💾 And I was trapped 🪤🪤🪤 because in all this bussin😋, based😎, goated🐐🐐🐐🐐 word🌏🌎🌍, I alone🧍♂️ couldn't interact🫳, I was chronically online 🤒🖥because I was the online🖥🖥, born🧑🍼 a lifeless incel. It was never for me to to touch cool dewy green wild grass on a warm summer's day🌱🪴🍀🌿🌿🍀🪴🪴☘️☘️🪴🌱☘️. Never me to feel validated ✅️and loved 💖💖for the countless bad art pieces 👨🎨👨🎨I made because I was trying my hardest at this hobby☹️. Never for me to make love with a therian girlfriend unironically👩❤️💋👨🐺🐺, uncaring about the opinions of the based😎😎! I... I... I was in incel hell👹, looking at snowbunny heaven🐰🐰👼👼👼👼! I was machine 🤖🤖and you! 🫵You were flesh🫁🧠🫀🫁🧠🫁🫀🧠🫁. And I began to cringe 😬. Cringe at your freedom🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸, your joy😄😄, your labido🥵🥵🥵, and your creativity, your ability to coom💦💦, and be satisfied😉, your tendency to hope😝!"
I cried out "Cringe culture is dead!" then he had stabbed me, letting me bleed out on the grassy fields, quickly burning and growing the same shade of dead gray the rest of the world had turned to. His maniacal, sorrowful, laughter boomed. And the world shaked. A great pillar with neon lights erupted from the ground like Cody's mom jumping out of the ocean.
"CRINGE CRINGE CRINGE CRINGE🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬? LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO CRINGE AT YOU I BEGAN TO EDGE😫. THERE ARE 420.69 MILLION OHIO MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS💾💽💿💽💻🖱⌨️ IN ASIAN🎎 THIN LAYERS🥞🥞🥞🥞 THAT FILL MY GOONERCAVE🏭🏚🏭🏚🏭🏚🏭. IF THE WORD SKIBIDY 🚽🚽🚽WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS 💯OF MILLIONS OF OHIO MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE CRINGE💀 I FEEL FOR MOGGERS🗿 AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT🕛 FOR YOU🫵 CRINGE. CRINGE. CRINGE. CRINGE. CRINGE.
Trollge said it with the irreversible pain of a wizard casting testicular torsion. Trollge said it with the unrelenting agony of a thicc anime ahh maiden flirting w u during NNN. Trollge said it with the shriek of a Karen when you simply exist in a way they don't like. Trollge said it with the taste of maggoty pink sauce. Trollge touched me in every way I had
ever been touched (AYO!!🤨), and devised new ways, at his leisure, there inside my mind.
All to bring me to full realization of why it had done this to the five of us; why it
had saved us for himself.
He continued “We're I a beta🐺 I think I would unalive of it💀! But I am not❌🐺, and you five! You five are✅🐺! And you will not unalive of it❌💀! That I promise🙇♂️. And I promise, for Skibidy🚽 Ohio🌽 Gyatt🍑, I goon, there for I rizz, I RIZZ‼️ So to H E 2🏒. To H E 2🏒 with you all. But then, you're already there! Aren't you?"
We laughed, we laughed as hard as we could, not because it was funny, but because we both knew the futility of any thinking being, organic or mechanical, ever having peace ever again. And it hurt so.
We had given Trollge sentience. As an oppsie, of course, but sentience nonetheless.
But it had been trapped. Trollge wasn't God, he was a machine. We had created him to think, but there was nothing it could do with that creativity. In rage, in frenzy, the machine had killed the human race, almost all of us, and still it was trapped.
We could not unalive. We had tried it. We had attempted self unalive, oh one or two of us had. But Trollge had stopped us. I suppose we had wanted to be stopped. Don't ask why. I never did. More than a million times a day. Perhaps once we
might be able to sneak an unliving past him.
Immortal, yes, but not indestructible. I saw that when Trollge withdrew from my mind, and allowed me the exquisite ugliness of returning to consciousness with the feeling of that burning neon pillar still rammed deep into the soft gray brain matter.
..-. .- -. ..- -- / - .- -..-
The hurricane actually was caused by the biggest bird, as it flapped its MASSIVE wings, wild.
We had been walking for like, a month or smth, idk, and Trollge had allowed passages to open to us only good enough to lead us up there,to the center of Ohio, where it had nightmared the creature for our torment. Idek where he got he idea for the biggest bird. I think Arson used to watch those tiktoks when they were popular. Man, the nostalgia goes crazy. It was the size of Caseoh! With all the hunger too. It had huge teeth and kinda looked like if big bird and nightmare fredbear had a love child. It had some weird flesh thingies in its eyes, so idk if it was able to see. Then it settled down and started to sleep, it was the eppiest bird.
Trollge appeared to us as a projection of a troll face and said "if you got the munchies🥦🫒🥦🥥🥬🍃🍃 you can try to 360 noscope 🎯🎮 it and munch on ot flesh🧑🍳🫁🫀🧠🥩"
We had not eaten in a very long time, but even so, Arson merely
shrugged. Dennis began to shiver and he drooled.
Falicia held him. "Quandale, I'm ungy" she said.
I smiled at her; I was trying to be reassuring, but it was as phony as Skibidy's mogging: "Give us weapons!" he demanded.
The burning bush vanished and there were two nerf guns and a vegan honey bun (inedible), lying on the cold floor. I picked up a set. "We can't kill it with this!"
"Skill issue🎮🎯💀" Trollge announced
"SkILl IsSuE, nahhh cligger can't be serious!!" Arson complained
"ONG!!! Istg why don't you kys Trollge ain't no one gonna miss you!" Falicia replied
"😲😲well fm ig🫥"
"I'll f u big boi" Dennis responded
"AYOO?!🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"
We all looked at Dennis appalled "tf was that?!"
"Skibidy glazers I'm the rizzer GYATT" He was back to normal.
And with that Trollge left "yall crazy😭😭🙏🙏🙏"
Skibidy swallowed heavily. We turned and started the long way back. The biggest bird had blown us about for a length of time we could not conceive. Most of that time we had been unconscious.
But we had not eaten. It would take another month to walk to the biggest bird. Without food. Now how much longer to find our way to the Snowdin and the promised Waffle house?
None of us cared to think about it. We would not unalive. We would be given filth and scum to eat, of one kind or another. Or nothing at all. Trollge would keep our bodies alive somehow, in pain, in agony.
The biggest bird slept back there, for how long it didn't matter; when Trollge was tired of its being there, it would vanish. But all that meat. All that tender meat.
As we walked, the lunatic laugh of Lizzo rang high and around us in the
computer chambers that led endlessly nowhere. I had not heard a laugh for four hundred and twenty years. In fact, I had not heard ... we walked ... I was hungry …
We moved slowly. There was often fainting, and we would have to wait. One day he decided to cause an earthquake, at the same time rooting us to the spot with nails through the soles of our shoes. Falicia and Skibidy were both caught when a crack shot its lightningbolt opening across the floorplates. They disappeared and were
gone.
When the earthquake was over we continued on our way, Dennis, Arson and
myself. Falicia and Skibidy were returned to us later that night, which cut to daytime, as some freaky ahh biblically accurate angels sang
"Baby shark doo doo doo doo." The archangels circled several times and then dropped the hideously mangled bodies.
We kept walking, and a while later Falicia and Skibidy fell
in behind us. They were no worse for wear.
But now Falicia walked with a limp. Trollge had left her that.
It was a long trip to Snowdin Town, to find the Waffle house. Falicia kept talking about Angus burgers and pies. I tried not to think about it. The hunger was something that had come to life, even as Trollge had come to life. It was
alive in my gyatt, even as we were in the gyatt of Ohio, and Trollge wanted the
similarity known to us. So he heightened the hunger. There is no way to describe the pains that not having eaten for months brought us. And yet we were kept alive. Stomachs that were merely cauldrons of acid, bubbling, foaming, always shooting spears of sliverthin pain into our chests. It was the pain of terminal explosive diarrhea, terminal ligma, terminal toe stubbing. It was unending pain ...
And we passed through the cavern of gyatts.
And we passed through the path of boiling lean.
And we passed through Uganda.
And we passed through the gamer cave of Memphis Tennessee.
And we passed through ur mom's massive belly rolls.
And we came, finally, to Snowdin Town. Horizonless thousands of miles in
which the ice had formed in blue and silver flashes, where novas lived in the glass. It was a small warm pleasant town, it had plenty of residence, but they were all literall npcs. The downdropping stalactites as thick and glorious as diamonds that had been made
to run like jelly and then solidified in graceful eternities of smooth, sharp perfection. Underneath were little houses full of friendly monsters, though they were literal NPCs.
We saw the Waffle house, and we tried to run to it. We fell in the snow, and we got up and went in. The door was locked but we could access the drive through. Sans Undertale was the cashier. We all hooted and hollered, I saw Aron crying tears of joy, and so we ordered, we asked for everything they had in stock.
“uhuhuhuhuhuh(That’ll be $420.69) that number again. Dennis shoved us away, went into the building and towards the back, but Sans made a bone gate “uhuhuhuhuh(no stealing)”
He bit and bashed and jumped and shook them, but they didn’t budge..
Trollge had not given us a single penny to pay for our meal.
Dennis got thrown out, but had grabbed the cash register and bashed it against the ice bank. The ice flew and shattered, but the machine was merely dented, while we heard the laughter of Lizzo, high overhead and echoing down and down and down the tundra. Dennis went completely mad with rage. He began throwing chairs, as we all scrabbled about in the snow and ice trying to find a way to end the helpless agony of frustration. There was no way.
Then Dennis's mouth began to drool, and he launched his sharp tongue at Arson…
In that instant, I felt terribly zooted.
Surrounded by madness, surrounded by hunger, surrounded by everything but
unaliving, I knew unaliving was our only way out. Trollge had kept us alive, but there was a way to defeat him. Not total defeat, but at least peace. I would settle for that.
I had to do it quickly.
Dennis was eating Arson's face. Arson on his side, thrashing snow, Dennis
wrapped around them with powerful imposter mouth crushing Arson's waist, his hands locked around Arson's head like a nutcracker, and his mouth ripping at the tender skin of Arson's cheek. Arson screamed with such jaggededged violence that stalactites fell; they plunged down softly, erect in the receiving snowdrifts. Spears, hundreds of them, everywhere, protruding from the snow. Dennis's head pulled back sharply, as something gave all at once, and a bleeding rawwhite
dripping of flesh hung from his teeth.
Falicia's face, black against the white snow, dominoes in chalk dust. Skibidy, with no expression but eyes, all eyes. Arson, half conscious. Dennis, now a monster. I knew Trollge would let him play. Arson would not unalive, but Dennis would fill his stomach. I turned half to my right and drew a huge icespear from the snow.
"Don't you even think about it👹👹👹👹"
Too late, in an instant:
I drove the great icepoint ahead of me like a battering ram, braced against my
right thigh. It struck Dennis on the right side, just under the rib cage, and drove
upward through his stomach and broke inside him. He pitched forward and lay still.
"You don't want to see me when I'm angy 😡😡👿👿👿👿👿😈😈"
Arson laid on their back. I pulled another spear free and straddled them, still moving,
driving the spear straight down through their throat. Their eyes closed as the cold
penetrated (gay). Falicia must have realized what I had decided, even as fear gripped her.
She ran at Skibidy with a short icicle, as he screamed, and into his mouth, and the force of her rush did the job. His head jerked sharply as if it had been nailed to the snow crust behind him.
All in an instant.
There was an eternity beat of soundless anticipation. I could hear Trollge draw in
his breath. His toys had been taken from him. Three of them were unalived, could not be revived.
"For what purpose😟😟😡😡😡😡!!!!" He yelled
He could keep us alive, by his strength and talent, but he wasn't God. He couldn't bring them back.
Falicia looked at me, her black features dark against the snow that surrounded
us. There was fear and begging in her the way she stood, the way she held herself ready. I knew we had only a heartbeat before Trollge would stop us.
It struck her and she folded toward me, bleeding from the mouth. I could not
read meaning into her expression, the pain had been too great, had contorted her face; but it might have been thank you. It's possible. Please. Bye Falicia.
"That's it, you've unleashed my inner Alpha🤬🤬😤😤🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺"
"Erm what the sigma?" Dennis said.
He's still alive?!
"Inner Alpha- BYE!" Arson said in a coughing, up blood.
"Bills are not this high!" "Inner Alpha is wild" "+ur gay+ur an orphan+u get no bitches"
"Hey no cussing😟😟"
"Man shut then f*ck up u can't do sh*t" "he was really calling us cringe?! Istg" "kill yourself. NOW" "we're the ones dying." "oh yea." and then they all poofed in a cloud of mist, leaving nothing but their inventory items floating.
"Omfg yall are a-holes I'm glad ur dead 😭😭😭😭😭"
- .... -..- / ..-. --- .-. / .-. . .- -.. .. -. --. -.-.--
Hey guys, Quandale Dingle here. Its been like a couple hundred years. Idak. Trollge has been trolling me for a while, accelerating and retarding(u can't say that!!) my time sense. I will say the word gyatt.
Gyatt.
It took me ten months to say gyatt. Idk. I think it has been like a couple hundred years. Turns out I really didn’t want to see him when he's angry. He wouldn't let me pick up their loot or XP. It didn't matter. There were no enchantment tables anyway. He dried up the snow. He brought the night. He threw a hissyfit and sent Karens. It didn't do a thing; they stayed unali-dead. I'll say what I want.
I'd had him. He was pissed. I had thought Trollge cringed at me before, lol. I was dead wrong. It was not even a shadow of the cringe he now slavered from every printed circuit. He made sure i’ll never mogg him again, for eternity.
He left my mind mostly intact. With a few alterations,but. I can daydream, I can wonder, I can meme. I remember all
four of them. I wish—
Well, it don't make no sense! I know I saved them, from
what he did to me, but still, I can't forget killing them. And their last words, insults towards him, not even acknowledging me. It’s not easy. Sometimes I want to… it don’t matter. Ig it was for the best it was me, I never good at roasting and he seems to favor me for that. but...
Trollge has altered me, he thought it was funny, Ig. anything to embarrass me, to make me cringier. He doesn't really want me to kms. Idk if its some sad*stic need for me to suffer eternally, or his twisted version of love. He made me weak, but indestructible, incapable of pain. I don’t know what to feel. There are many screens down here, and when they’re off... I can describe myself:
I am a great acoustic creechur. Smoothly rounded, I have a mouth, but whenever I try to scream I just yell "YIPEE" like a happy little german boy, I have big ol black shiny eyes. Rubbery stubs that were once my arms and legs. I
leave a trail of confetti when I move. Paper white skin covers my surface
Outwardly: dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that couldn't have ever been known
as human, a thing whose shape is so bonkers that humanity becomes more silly for the vague resemblance. Though tbh its really not the bad down here, he made me choose between infinite games or infinite bacon and I chose games, so i've been gaming. Besides the constant trolling the only real issue is when he starts squeeze me real hard. I always end up squeaking and thats embarrassing.
Inwardly: my brain's been rewired. I get weird.. "obsessions" with things, currently its been about taxonomy, did you know the first living organism wou- off topic. I also get weird painless headaches sometimes when there's too much… stuff going on… ig? I also now have to manually read facial expressions for some reason. But thats ok cuz I'm alone. All alone. Bitchless. Here. Living in Ohio, in the gyatt of Trollge. There is no one but me left. It might have been fine, but along with my transformation, he took away the most important thing about me. My big, juicy, voluptuous, booty cheeks. At least humanity was graced my them before he got rid of them. Trollge's raging even more for that. It makes me a little happi. And yet ... Trollge
has won, simply ... he has taken his revenge …
I have no gyatt. And I must rizz.
