"Like Spartus sanitiser, thy world waz."
The world was in chaos. Literally. As in everything was covered in liquid diarrhoea from the bond street pump.
Piss.
Piss??????
Piss.
The earth shook like the Elizabreath's grumbling stomach, causing Maya to lose her balance and topple over, landing in a pile of bioluminescent ants. The world was getting unhinged. As more and more people were contracting the Hinged, the universe was trying to balance itself by getting really fucking weird. Maya stood up, dusting the glowing insects of her skirt. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her head, and she blacked out.
It wasn't the first time. Her head vibrated in agony. Her mind twisted and regurgitated it's remaining braincells. She was getting visions again.
Twelve roses. 6 withered and 6 blossoming. It was the same as usual. But this time, she felt something different. A constant ringing in her head. A song. It was the unmistakable sound of skibidi toilet. "It's just a dream," she thought to herself. But as the rose crumbled and Maya awoke, the skibidi dop dop wasn't ceasing. Hurried and anxious, she stuffed her TXT branded airpods in her ears, hoping for the music to overpower the annoying ass skibidi toilet music. And it seemed to have worked. She smirked to herself, 'That was such an intelligente idea!' as she danced to the K-pop and howled at the sun even as people turned crispy and fried before her eyes.
Clarence's orbs were turning murky poopoo piss water. Instead of visual novels and anime femboys, the only thing in her head was skibidi toilet. So skibidi. So fanum tax. The only thing she felt like doing was to spread her love of skibidi to the rest of the world. Was it not the benevolent thing to do to share w rizz peak fiction? It just felt right to her. That was what she was thinking as she, once again, made her way to the address of the Vegan Teacher with that exact thing in mind.
Noah's gf couldn't believe it. As her inner naked mole rat shed infinite tears of rainbow unicorn poo sparkles, she couldn't stop thinking about how she'd failed. Who she'd failed.
She had promised to take care of Helga (she hadn't, but for the purpose of fulfilling her main character syndrome, she let herself believe it), and now, as Helga writhed and writhed and wiggled like the Purple Wiggle, all her brain reminded her of was how Helga was suffering from both skibiditis and Hinged-ness (as was her), and she couldn't do one diddly darn thing about it.
So, in an act of self expression, she defied her Hinged tendencies for 1 minute to apply heavy black eyeliner, put on ripped lace stockings and cover her face with plain flour to properly communicate her feelings of utter depressionzione. "rawr," she rawred sadly and emoly. I will return to you, Helga, Noah's gf thought, as her Hinged-ness had taken over again. I totally promise that. Also look at me im emo now.
The door to the destroyed Stonks building was slightly ajar, and the stinky stanky smell of smoke arose from a campfire, dimly lighting the area in the twilight sparkle sky.
"Farrah." A organic vegetarian beef loud voice bellowed through the remnants of the halls. "Recite verse 1 of the skibidi scriptures."
"There is no way to become skibidi. There is already skibidi in everyone's heart, and one must choose to embrace it." A moustachioed fellow replied.
"Very fanum tax. W rizz. Level 999 gyat." the voice rumbled, satisfied. "And from what is happening outside, it seems that with a miniscule large push, the universe will finally embrace the skibidi that was within it all along..."