Meanwhile, in the small but prosperous town of Moronicon on Planet Whoop Whoop, J and his two slow-witted cohorts went a-shoppin’. The freak bar in this town provided all manner of hedonistic activities and J was just about to paint the town beige with his pals. All forms of deviant and perverse acts of nature were denizens of The Angry Dragon. The three sat down at a sticky wooden table and ordered three Blue Moscows, which contained just the slightest hint of cyanide to give them a bit of bite.
J’s slothful friends gulped their Blue Moscows down in the traditional Russian fashion, namely wiping each others’ noses, punching each other in the ear, turning around thrice, and yelling: “Basted panty stooges in Bunninuong.”
T’was then that they were approached by a freak with abnormally large testicles dangling from his ears. J realised they were earrings of a type popular with the scum populace of Minious, a moon of Uranus, and that they were worn to give the wearer the feeling of having testicles hanging off his ears.
“I am very excited by your ritual,” said the wearer of the testes in a faggy high-pitched tone.
Jimmy and Plato looked at each other in slow-witted confusion. The Miniouan went on and explained that he was an ad-man for a small agency on Uranus and liked the look of Jimmy and Plato’s ritual and wished to use it in an ad over the Cybermail? network to market a new drink. The Miniouan also told them of the money to be made undertaking such a promotion and Jimmy and Plato slowly agreed. They left J alone at the bar and followed the teste wearer. Within ten minutes they were both eunuchs and had their wares sold in a marketplace on Minious some months later.
After this incident, J was rejoined by his two sexless friends at the bar. A woman with an exceedingly large pair of breasts (comparable only to Chesty Morgan) strolled up to the bar and lounged comfortably against two magnificent pectorals. Jimmy and Plato sobbed as the blood flow increased, but J was intrigued. He wanted to know if they were real. After a long hard look at the breasts, J asked for a fuck. To his complete surprise she agreed as she said she had something to impart to him. They left the bar and did it in the road.
As J came, she moaned softly: “Oh Germy baby.”
J became rather upset after this small endearment because:
1. He was sworn to kill Germy
2. She had slept with Germy
3. He was convinced her tits were genuine
4. He had fallen in love
J asked: “What the fuck is you name?”
“Mary Sinthasomphone,” she said.
J liked that name. It had religious connotations.
Now with an assistant, J grew his hair long and curly brown, got himself a big coat and scarf and harnessed the powers of space and time via a blue telephone box with a light on the top. He would search all vortexes of time and space in order to kill Germy. His ultimate plan was to kill him at birth so he could never cause J any distress ever. In cyberspace, Germy had been using several aliases, but “The Master” was his favourite one at the time. Unfortunately, the Tit And Rectum Dissension Idiot Shack (or TARDIS, as J liked to call it) had numerous bugs and would not arrive at any definite point in time. In fact it was quite random. Jimmy and Plato stayed on Planet Whoop Whoop with the possibility of becoming assistants in a later series.
The slow grinding sound of the TARDIS let itself be known as the two left the planet in search of fun and adventure. The TARDIS was very strange. It was quite small on the outside, but really quite amazingly large on the inside. J had just received his PhD results from Bond University’s Subliminal Open Learning tapes and was successful. He now liked to be called ‘The Doctor.’
They looked at the control panel, which was decorated with all manna from heaven sort of buttony type things that looked more at home on the lapel of a child’s clown rather than a strange futuristic machine from the BBC.
“Set the controls for the heart of the sun!” shouted J in a Roger Waters fashion, “We are going to destroy the sun and with it, that douche bag Germy. This will be the ultimate offering to Ra.”
Mary looked at him with a worried expression.
“Uh, Quacky don’t you think that we will die too?”
“Oh yeah. Didn’t think of that. Mary, may I suggest you step through that hyperdimensional doorway portal resonator thingamabob which has conveniently popped into existence over there.”
J was now well and truly over the top, crackers, insane, barmy, riddled with syphilis, and howling at the moon. In short, he was the maddest bugger to have ever deluded himself that a blue police telephone box could transgress the laws of time and space. But J was a determined, if not, a myopic type of guy and he was fuckin’ gonna try it. He pressed an oversized button, and set off for the sun.
His pet talking rubbish disposal unit (which he affectionately had named K9) said with just the slightest hint of fear and panic in his voice: “J, you stupid fucking cunt! You’re going to fucking kill us all!”
J just turned around dramatically and bellowed: “Call me Doctor, you overgrown transistor!”
J (The Doctor) kicked K9 ferociously. K9 catapulted through the air like a guy who had just been touched up by an All Black front rower. K9 smashed through the window, breaking into little itty bitty pieces, throwing the TARDIS off its course slightly. The TARDIS ploughed into the sun, totally obliterating it into fifteen pieces of roughly equal size and shape.
**********
J tilted his head, which caused a dimensional misperception. Everything was white. He could see people dancing in the distance as an apparition materialised in front of his face.
“Are you The Master?” asked J, horrified by the apparition in front of him.
“No you foolish hermaphrodite. I am Germy. I am God.”
J screamed and thrashed wildly about on his Sleepmaker cloud so loudly that the little kid who had said “Don’t say baa baa, say Sa-Ba” just once too often and had his throat slit by his demented mother awoke and said it again. J calmed down. He had never admitted to anyone that he liked that ad and now here was the childe himself in the flesh (well, heavenly flesh).
J decided that if he could somehow persuade ol’ Germy cum God to restore him and the kid to life, he would make a sexploitation snuff flick involving him rogering the kid to death. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who’d had that thought, he thought.
“Hey Germy!” yelled J, “restore me and this kid to life. I lost the plot there for a while but now I see how to regain my fortune.”
“Actually J, I’m not Germy cum God at all. I’m really just plain old God. I was fucking bored as, so I thought I’d pretend to be Germy to fuck with your head.”
“Bastard.”
“Watch your French.”
“But you said ‘fuck’!”
“Yeah, well listen to me, turd fucker. I am God and I answer to no cunt. I can do whatever I fucking want, you snivelling little faggot. If I feel inclined I can create a Tsunami or inflict a plague or instigate a war. You know why? Because I am fucking God! No cunt rules over me. As for you, well, you answer to me. I will help you in your quest J, but first you will have to undergo a trial.”
“A trial?”
“Yeah. Like Job.”
“Oh. Shit.”
“I will return you to Earth exactly one year into the future. Germy remains the abused sex toy of a demented Arab, however that will soon change. You must kill him as I have banished him from Eastern Heaven and he will have to seek refuge in the arms of Ol’ Mr Nobodaddy. With any luck I will hear Germy’s screams of pain as one thousand debils ram red hot pokers up his bottom, tickle his tonsils with hippopotamus’ penises, have carrion crows rip out his eyes a million times over, revisit Malenky and let the ghost of GG Allin do whatever he darn well likes with Germy’s body - I have a few suggestions for him myself - believe you me.”
“God - long bits of dialogue are a fucking awful read.”
“Ooops... Sorry.”
Inflict Kafe Gavani On The World
  
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