A GAY WESTERN BEDTIME!

A GAY WESTERN BEDTIME!

PART 1: In a world, full of tangling spiders...

A knight is summoned on the behalf of fraternities from across the world. Here, the knight is guaranteed to have his wish granted from across the Asia Pacific to the West Coast (or wherever the world is at the moment).

The knight HAS agreed previously to the request to slay the tangling spiders, but the president of the world have petitioned to cancel this barbaric atrocity towards the poor, hungry– SNEAKY spiders who stop at nothing but to scavenge anything for food. 

At the meantime, catch your sleep up with this ancient Greek commercial because making this myth is not easy– especially to put Western– Gay into one joint at the same time. 

–

Ad: Ah, yes– the Cost of Concordia, who would have thought, it was a romantic night, stars bright shining in the sky– brighter than the sun goddess herself– of Italy. Ah... I couldn't get myself in even with more "ah's"– *switches to an Australian accent*.

BUT WHAT'S THIS? EVERYONE GET DOWN, THIS IS AN ADVERTISEMENT! RAISE YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!

Now, everyone get your bags out because– *struggles to pull out something from his pocket [struggle noises]*– he pulls out a gun and shoots a baby in the head from its mother's embracing loving arms and instantly kill it like when he instantly cooked that chicken pasta from the packaging sauce of Indomie– mama mia this a tomato sauce is a too spicy!

Yeet! Finally, I have it all– annnnnnd, scene! BLACKOUT!

Don't let this happen to you in your sleep. Use code: MCSCROOGEunderscoreDuck to get sixty– eight percent off in every purchase of your selected items, gift, money, etcetera, etcetera and hence. So that once you get jumped or robbed again, you will not lose the other thirty– two percent of your wholesale belonging price. STONKS. That is it for now, happy shopping!

–

Where were we? Ah yes! The tangling spiders, the knight and the president of the world. Together, they are against each other. But what's this? Uh oh, a female spider is going to marry one of the female humans. 

"Uh, spider-chan..."

"Yes, bigmanX64?"

"Would you.. take me as your waifufu?"

The female spider blushes, as its black– socket soggy hands turn into silky webs that can be turned into a fine Chinese cloth, worth for the much of an annual expense of renting a college student room. So in an instinct, the gal jumps the spooder and immediately makes it bleed like a swine. 

"REEEEE–" it squeals as its soggy hands turn air more into silky web– worth even more in the black market.

Normally, the press immediately covers this. Even questioning whether the little girl has some 'coo-coo' in her head? The police gets in touch soon, but in the process due to some late backlash from the local community, news of abuse spread in the media like gold rush. In the meantime, the girl who stabs the poor spider, gets at least two and a half quarter of the total amount of silk ever produced in history. 

However, she is caught at the act of selling them online, so she didn't get to sell them– but she already had a buyer, and even better, the buyer is ready to conduct the transaction at any given point of time. 

So to avoid her share of history gets taken away without her consent, she carves this code, on to a pile of rock, "01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100111 01100001 01111001", and cast it away into the ocean– just by the shore of the beach (Alcatraz– of where's she going).

–PART 2: You're mama gay.

'Ring, ring! Ooh, someone's calling you knightboy.' 

Shush!

'Cring, cring! Here it goes again!'

What is it? Who is it?

"It's the spider and I am Tenpenny."

Just 'cause you're the president of the world, doesn't mean you get to transfer fifty to my haus for me broken lamp and me broken body AT THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, WHEN EVERYONE'S ASLEEP AND YOU'RE WORKING YOUR DONKEY OFF!

"I understand your frustration, but I'm begging you to not commit a mass genocide to that species known as hanauesous aractusuranus."

Mr. President, if I may to object, the cause of the decay of that species will be our survival. May I remind why you become your job, it's because–

"Enough, young padawan. I do not need the pictures of hollow shells to remind our awful history deeds. Must be it over already? How much more longer should you belong to the past that has crossed the river multiple times already?"

This is why no one likes you, dude. And at the meantime, don't try to get in my way.

"We'll pay your disagreement with great interest, knightboy. Listen well,–"

'Just turn it off already.'

What do you want to do?

'I don't know, what do you want to do?'

Hunting it is.

–PART 3: Killing spree

The knight walk and dash across the forests, the jungle, the bush, anywhere he could get his guns onto the spider. Anywhere! Without trials and tribulation, his conscious is clear as the ocean but his deeds is high and rising like the violent waves that swallow everywhere its near a whole. No one spared, not even the children.

Everywhere he goes by and by, his actions 'deserve' praises as if the second coming of christ is finally here. The press as always, picks up on this, quickly make him a star overnight. Though a controversial figure, his unofficial parade in New Union, nearly cause another police-related hot topic.

*Generic news theme song plays*

"Breaking News, thisIsNiws, reporting for the Not ***** Channel, tonight our story on the 'KnightBoy', has finally has himself talks with the president of the world, Jack Kumbaya, a noble figure in the peace talks to reforming each state into incorporating its own figurehead."

POV: You're a reporter and you enter a discussion panel room, secretly bringing a camera.

No, no– Jack, we've already talked about this on the phone last month– remember? Before you warned me of killing those spiders–

"What are you referring to?"

I am referring to the Uzbektistan Wars discussion we had!

"We never did, KnightBoy! We only talked about my wish to not kill those spiders, and then you criticized me for what I am now."

POV: Someone snitches you out to the discussion group, telling that you bring a camera to a secret meeting.

"Get him out of here– and snatch his camera!"

–PART 4: It enantiomerically ends here.

Joe wakes up from a long night sleep. He is not his regular room, rather what it seems a bar. His back is ached with cramps, while his vision is dark and blurry, as the white curtains provides shade to his stained windows with bushes and leaves overgrowing the edges.

The floor is old and yellow, but has always been like so– or has it? To what Joe's mind is. He cannot even bear the feelings of his legs, but he knows he has control of them. Joe thinks he doesn't belong to anything. Nor his body belong to him. His name is just a tag to remember who he is. The dream he has? Was it his? Was it worth a slumber to linger for another two or more?

Joe finishes a drink off, that he had last night to cling on the last mind he has yet to feel sorrow for. He knows he likes it, he likes the night he had before. To even linger for another moment, he knows this is worth it. But what if it's not real?

This bewilder him as he reminds himself that every part of himself, his integrity still precedes him. Joe is over the hedges even the mountains of whence gods live before. His ego, his pride, everything in him– it's still there.

Joe was a knight, who committed a genocide. Who killed and ended the president of the world reign for good. He, who eventually turns the tails into heads. It's Joe, he, who controls over everything beyond him. There's no more Joe than the other Joe than who Joe, he is now.

The sun has just risen, though it is already bright since then and when Joe takes this realization, he is stunned over his mind that perhaps it was only a year ago when that all happened. The rest of the leap years, he went into hiding. Realizing that nothing is forever guaranteed, nor will it be secured by him.

Knowing that it will end enantiomerically just as Jack did it, he will soon face his upcoming decomposition– that he himself arranges to be a dynamically impossible unless he is fully combust into ashes and flames that from it, that is, immortal and surround the world by his tiny invisible pieces.

Who knew Joe could be so easy on this engoodening times, when most people just die. What is even real anymore? His dear old friend, the gal who spent her next years in prison? Or the carved rock under the sand? Either way, he's abused to both of them. Joe is dead. Then, he remains dead. That, he thinks is real. The most loyal of them all. An absolute gentle creature, yet mysteriously unappealing to life but appealing to Joe. This, to him, is real.

Joe dies, and minutes later, the police finds his body after an amateur journalist calls in for the shot heard from the other side of the neighborhood. His head is carved with bullet holes that match his guns he hold onto the last breath. Naturally, the news picks up on this and moves on to the next segment. To some, it's still real.