GUN DRACULA VS SKY COP, Part 20: Social Media Syndrome, Part 1 — Toilet da Online Cookin Man
“I’m thinking about becoming a chef,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man.
Ultimate Lunar: Requiescat ~FINAL DREAM::EZ//_shoot was finishing on the screen. A girl in what Gun Dracula thought amounted to basically a scanty school outfit bedecked with multi-colored ribbons was pointing an enormous candycane gun at the sun, which had been revealed to be a witch from another dimension and had been poisoning girls on the earth and turning them into Vile Ones, which were giant conical tentacle monsters that gunwitches were forced to hunt to keep the sonic soul equilibrium in balance.
“I can’t believe how fucking much of this I can remember,” said Gun Dracula.
“I can’t fucking wait for Ultimate Lunar: Stellar Sword Saga dude,” said Liquid Jaguar God.
“Aren’t you already a chef?” asked Kinetic Dream Astrology.
“Is the main character going to be the same?” asked Gun Dracula.
“I don’t know,” said Liquid Jaguar God. “They normally switch characters between series, but there was that one stella-sonic transformation sequence where she merged with the Blademind in here and it looked like a sword was behind her, so.”
“I have to go where the money is,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man.
“Is the restaurant not pulling its weight?” asked Kinetic Liquid Astrology.
“I want to get into Gootube,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man.
“What’s Gootube?” asked Gun Dracula, hoping it wasn’t a sex thing.
“Shhh,” hissed Liquid Jaguar God. They hushed up and watched as she blew the sun away in a spiraling candycane blast of sonic soul energy. Liquid Jaguar God started to cry a bit. “Oh my god I love this show,” he said.
“It’s videos,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man. “It used to be a VR movie theater, but then VR got kind of desolate after the digital god died and those weird monsters started feasting on its body and letting loose all that horrible fauna. Oh, I was reading an article while I was shitting on the toilet this morning by the way. Turns out since you guys cleared out the weird alien cone consciousness monsters on-the-line the other day people have started to set up shop there again.”
“Oh, excellent,” said Gun Dracula. “That’s real nice.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology.
“Wait, you shit?” asked Liquid Jaguar God.
“Liquid, that’s rude,” said Gun Dracula. “Don’t ask whether it shits.”
The toilet rumbled and rattled. It was a… laugh? Maybe? “Of course I shit! What else would happen after I eat a lot!”
“But don’t you eat poop and piss,” said Liquid Jaguar God.
“Liquid!” shouted Gun Dracula.
“I’m just asking questions!” he shouted back.
“It’s invasive,” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology. “I’m sorry,” it said to the toilet. “He’s not… he had a lot of authority where he’s from. Boundaries are still kind of… I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man. “I know that technically I am a monster behind the love and grace of God, and that in my monstrosity I provoke questions from those berobed in the flesh of blessed reason. Yes, even I, a living toilet, shits and pisses, and when I do so, I do it in a toilet that is not myself; there is no great reason for this other than it is the way of the culture into which I found myself hurled. In the wild, perhaps I would piss and shit on the beautiful field, or the gorgeous stream, or the immaculate flower; here, in the civilization of the birdpeople and their strange golden orb of a nation-city, I shit in the toilet.”
“I’m glad people are on-the-line again,” said Gun Dracula.
“Yes, it’s really good,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man.
“Do they not have Gootube where you’re from, dude?” asked Liquid Jaguar God.
“Nah, man,” said Gun Dracula. “It’s still like the 1800s and shit on Earth. We’ve got, like, trains, and dysentery.”
“Ah, the shitting disease?” asked Liquid Jaguar God.
“Yeah,” said Gun Dracula, his voice trailing off and sounding kind of sad. “The shitting disease.”
“That’s rough, man. I’m sorry. Well, we’ve got Gootube.”
“You upload videos,” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology. “Like in a nickelodeon, but they can be longer than those. Anything you want, really. You just get a camera, point it at fuckin’ whatever, talk or some shit, upload it. They even have ads. You can get rich putting up pictures of your balls hovering over different kinds of stuff or whatever. It’s crazy.”
“They don’t… have pictures of peoples balls. On Gootube,” said Liquid Jaguar God.
“Yeah,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man. “They ban you for that kind of stuff.”
“Uh…” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology.
“It was a euphemism, right?” asked Gun Dracula.
“Honestly I’m still just thinking about being nude in the desert,” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology.
“Well, to be fair, you had a cloak on by the end,” said Liquid Jaguar God.
“And goggles,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man. “It also had goggles.”
“Man I fuckin’ loved those goggles,” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology. “And my cloak. Shit, and my gun! I looked so fucking cool. Blasting those weird tentacle cone aliens. Man, that fucking ruled.”
“Yeah, it was fucking tight,” said Gun Dracula.
“My life is so fucking bad ass,” said Liquid Jaguar God. “First I was a shapeshifting warrior animal-man-god of another dimension, then a lieutenant of an evil dimension-hopping dictator birdperson, now I’m best friends with a talking car, a talking toilet, and fucking Dracula, and we all uploaded ourselves on-the-line to go fight alien cone monsters on the corpse of a dead god.”
“I want to become a Gootube chef and get some of that sweet advertisement money,” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man.
“We have to kill Sky Cop’s lieutenants though,” said Gun Dracula.
“We can help our buddy achieve their dream, I think,” said Liquid Jaguar God.
“Yeah!” said Kinetic Liquid Astrology.
“I really want to kill those guys, though,” said Gun Dracula.
“Just think of it as… killing… being poor… with videos of being a chef,” said Liquid Jaguar God.
“Fine,” said Gun Dracula.
“Thanks guys!” said Toilet da Pee Pee Man. “Let’s go be online culinary personalities!”