Year 10⁸ – Messier 1 (The Crab Nebula) 

 

99997979 years after Kanye West changes his name to Ye

 

The galaxy sized flesh cruiser HuffPost shudders across the otherwise dead sky. From afar it looks like a single, peach colored chunk of silicon but zoom in and we can see the truth. It is made up of a trillion screaming faces, trapped in an endless loop of suffering. Zoom further, turn a microphone on, and you will hear them. It isn’t a scream. It’s the roar of a billion different sentences.

These cured meats will give you AIDS. Number 6 will shock you! We are all Jonah Hill’s coffee right now. Vaccinate your children with bleach. Number 3 will shock you. 10 of the saddest suicide notes. Jeffery Epstein will break your heart. Behind the scenes of Don’t Look Up – is this the film to save us. Lakers up by ten – join us after the game for the round table discussion. Barron Trump – tall or riddled with cancer? The answer may shock you (it’s both).

From inside the pulsing obscenity comes the red note, a blood curdling thrum that registers on every known level. The cavernous interior is lined with the naked, mewling near-corpses of every living thing that has ever been. 

A noise like a thick mucus cough comes from the tumescent flesh-engine of the enormous machine. It rips apart the four-dimensional Hilbert space surrounding the HuffPost and the entire universe lurches to the right approximately twelve trillion miles. Suddenly, the HuffPost comes face to face with another enormous being. Sensors inside the small, cuboid officer’s deck relay this information to the captain of the HuffPost, a being with a name so complicated that attempting to say it would immediately dislocate your jaw. The captain smiles. He does not need the advanced smegmatic relays to tell him that the vessel drifting aimlessly opposite is the one they call the Fox. He can smell the yellow bile that seeps through every single pore of the bio-synthetic lining. He can already sense McConnell, sense his helpless ovulation. He can see the rotting patch of gray fat that was once his face. The captain licks his lip. 

I can smell your cunt, little one he whispers. 

From the bowels of the HuffPost comes a wet roar. Fourteen billion liters of prebiotic-semen rush from two festering spheres the size of the moon, coating the screaming woundbeasts that make up the HuffPost’s cavernous walls. It rips the top layer of humanity clean off like a scab, billions of people drifting in a bubbling sea of cum and blood. 

Jonah Hill will give you AIDS. Number 6 will shock you! (gurgle) We are all these cured meats right now. (burp) Vaccinate your children with Jeffery Epstein. (gurgle)  Number 3 will shock you. 10 of the saddest round table discussions. Barron (splutter) Trump will break your heart. Don’t Look Up is riddled with  cancer (wheeze) The answer may shock you. (gasp)

The solution makes its way to an ovoid aperture the size of a football pitch, where the fluid is ejected at an immensely high pressure, aimed by computers with an accuracy approaching deep-quantum perfection. Though most of the emulsion is understandably lost in the blackness of an eternal space – where it forms weird little jelly balls that seek out the hairs on your legs – a small percentage hits the immense vaginal honeycomb of the Fox, making it wrinkle inward slowly, absorbing the awful mixture. Once inside, it coats the walls of the Fox like expensive paint, making its way slowly towards McConnell, the deranged gelatinous skeleton that powers the whole juggernaut. Seemingly endless corridors are flooded with HuffPost’s disgusting emulsified life-mix.

A CLICK. 

McConnell’s mouth has been forced open by an unseen force, a surprisingly ancient clockwork mechanism wrenching his maw wider and wider until the skin around his mouth tears at the corners, unable to stand the pressure. The mottled, distended neck flap begins to vibrate fiercely, and like a single chicken placed in front of the Hoover Dam he begins to consume the near endless amounts of pink, screeching ejaculate.

       your children will break you (it’s both).  Epstein will shock you 

(it’s both).

        you (it’s both). bleach. 

Number 6 will give you (it’s both)

      Trump 

         – is this this 

this this this this 

       this this 

    this this this 

this 

this this 

this this this this this 

this this 

   this this 

      this 

  this this 

   this this 

this 

this this 

        this 

     this the film 

      to save us. Lakers 

up by ten – join us 

    after the saddest suicide notes. Jeffery 

Epstein with 

cancer? 

     The answer may shock 

you 

(it’s both)

game 

for 

the saddest suicide notes. Jeffery 

   Epstein with cancer? The answer may 

shock you (it’s…

 

The HuffPost turns and leaves. It’s job is done. It will regrow the outer membrane of humankind that it shed into space. It will find another victim. It will breed and it will consume. 

Back in the Fox, McConnell sleeps, his entire body slick with dripping life. Inside his tummy, nestled among the rotten feces, another being grows. If we look close enough, we can see that it is wearing a Joe Rogan Experience t-shirt.