Five years ago, the world as we know it ceased to be. Luckily, the world as we know it from The Road Warrior came into being. Many people were prepared for this turn of events. Too bad those people were geeks and nerds without any real survival skills. Tragically, they were all rape-murdered by corporate CEOs who, it turned out, were the biggest sociopaths on the planet. Some nerds and geeks survived longer than others due to their proficiency at oral sex. But even these desperate, shameless nerds could not last for long. Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea gave and gave and gave but eventually, as he knew deep down would happen, he used a little too much teeth. He was thrown into Lightning Dome, a more terrifying version of Thunder Dome, where twenty combatants entered and nineteen left. Mostly because the nineteen were working together to fightfuck the lone other. Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea lasted thirteen minutes, a good showing but not good enough to be remembered for more than the long weekend.
As it turned out, some of the most depraved and richest CEOs were the biggest fans of Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea. When the updates stopped (for, you see, DC Comics continued to publish during these post-apocalyptic times although their market share was now worse than Dynamite. In their defense, Gail Simone was being forced to write all of the titles deep within Dynamite headquarters, and all of the titles featured naked lesbians as every character), the CEOs grew desperate for the only written entertainment they could stomach. A new Tess was needed. And who better to take over the job than the monster that delivered the death thrust to Tess, Goggles McDeathhurt.
And now, five years later, Goggles McDeathhurt and Xanadux Rat Wine (Mit Jellied Pinkies) Present: HOLY FUCK! Don't Put That There Chai Tea!
Welcome back, Scanners! Dis week, in honors a haffin' da mos' mediocrest protagonist in littyrapture funfun books, Aquaman, Old Goggs gonna run her show likem dem late night dumb dumbs fer da masses. Ya 'member dem, rights? Da Viddle Atterman, Jail N.O., Jimjim Phallus, Simpkins Kimbel, Crayfish Fergamon, and sos on und on. Sos ta startem off, here be mein Top Ten List! Dis where I frow my hands und arms up in da air and yell, "Yaaaaaaaay!", as I runs off da stage, sees? Like dat delicious frog.
Top Ten Things Goggles McDeathhurt Hates Most About The Dusty Stretches
10. Kitten farming!
9. Dem Raccoons what gots inta dat nuclear powers plant minutes back und can now rides mogocycles, swing chains y baseball bats, and wearem dem leather jackets what say "Trash Collectors" on da back.
8. Gail Hersimone enslaved by Dynamite und forced ta write lesbian porns whilst stills trynna keep true ta her artistical integrities, resultin' in dialogs like "Stick your nasty Filipino tongue up my biracial baby sluice, you gorgeous shorter than average, chubbyish labia lover" und "Fist my polyamorous asshole with your nasty Laos/First Nations mix fist, you vagina gobbling sex lobster" und "Ride my over-represented face with your under-represented, disabled, Hindi, Maori/Irish underlips, you small breasted twat fondling twiddle banger!"
7. No government regulations resultin' in busyness practices like Shivilization marketin' Kidney Shields ta protect da lower voices from Shivilization's rampant kidney stabbin' rampages.
6. Walkin' everwhere! Dat jess mights be a hatred a livin' allupin Old York, dough.
5. Da never ending screaming, wailing, moaning, whining, and chanting of da lower voices. Shut da fucks up, somedust, what? Ya hauntin' my dreamslands!
4. Da Dynamite artists ignorin' Gail Hersimone's dialogs und jess drawin' all da womans as thin, big breasted, blonde, white womens.
3. No matter hows many spices dem chefs git dere hands on, everting still tastes like rat feces.
2. The motherfuckity dust!
And da number one top all times fink dat Goggles McDeathhurt hates mos' bout dese here Dusty Stretches?! No man left good 'nuff ta make Goggles' circus come ta town! Leastways shes still gots a gute supply dem double Ds.
Dat latey night dumb dumb 'nuff? Goggles finks so! Lets see if it be as dumb dumb as dis heres Aquaman!
Oy, lookity! It be even dumb dumber den Old Goggs uz expectin'. We be gettin' dem Others and da story wroted by dat hack artist, Dan Jurjens.
Dis firs headlines come from Old York's oldest/newest paper, The Dusty Times: "Blood Molecules in Air So Thick To Make Previously Known Blood-Borne Disease Airborne." Hmm. Dat's more disgustin' den funny. But den I ain't gots millions of Scanners sendin' me funny papers, sees me?
Dis seconds headlines outta Upper Kinder Camp's Lunches For The Weak single sheet: "What Looser Fuckfuckerfuck Fucking Took My FUCKING A-Fucking-Team Lunchyfuck Fuckbox? Fuckers Gonna Fucking Die." Whoa. Dems kids gots some major unbridleds up dere, donna dey? It also goes on ta list da lunch program meal for da ressa da week. Lookity like Spaghetti-Os on da menu fer mos' of it. Wonder where dey keep gettin' dem canned goods? Mayhappen "Spaghetti-Os" coded fer somefink else, eh? Probably tomato paste covered rat sphincters.
Dis tird headlines from Boozetown's paper, Parked Cars: "Big Mystery! Beaches Thick With Corpses of Exploded Sea Animals." Gross. Dat soundin' like da jobs fer Aquamans, ja?
Okay, okay. Dis here program inherited from dat chump what cried like a fuckin' baby when Old Goggs belly busted him in da Lightning Dome, and Old Goggs s'posed ta keep up his dumb dumb commentaries on dese here littyrapture funfun books, sees it? So she's gonna do a quick recap a dis heres littyrapture afore she gits ta da interview segments.
Aquaman gots lotta merde ta deal mit. He cheatem on Mera for Ya'wara. Atlantis sufferem acause he choosed ta git dem involved in da Earf Two War. The Dead King ain't dead nomores. Everduster hates him, boff in da funfun books und outs. But mos' alluv, he stills gots ta deal mit dis stupid Others plotline by Jurjens dat a'eady went on too longs as is. Jess give dese assholes dem gold baubles sos dey go away a'eady.
[A gravelly, deep voice begins to speak, labored and seemingly exhausted]
Archivist Melville: "Th...thank you, Goggles.
Goggles: "I uz worried corpsed 'bout youse. Care ta splains what happened affer ya lef' here las' times?"
Archivist Melville: "Sure. Sure. Thank you for taking me...taking me in. I didn't know who else to...you know...to go to here in the city."
Goggles: "You doned mucho craps fer Old Goggs, Archivist Melville. She ain't gonna leaves ya desperates out mit dem lower voices, feels her?"
Archivist Melville: "Yes, yes. Thank you. So...well...where to start? Um, they were...they were waiting for me where Old Crick meets up with Old Route 30...you know it, um, what the lower voices now call The Butthole Highway. They knew I'd be...um...be heading back that way since it's the only clear and easy...and easy route back to Reading City. It wasn't just some looters and brigands, Gog...Goggles. They were clean. Suits under body armor. Well polished wea...weapons."
Goggles: "Merde."
Archivist Melville: "A group of about ten to...ten to twelve men and women, standing around a limo...limousine, holding automatic rifles, smoking cigars, laughing...just, you know, laughing. The way through was completely blocked, so I had to...I mean, I couldn't go...I just had to stop. 'Archivist Melville, I presume,"\' says the shortest man, big mirrored glasses on his tiny...tiny...um...weasel face. Thick mustache. 'Get off the bike. Get...get in the car,' he...he says, rifle nonchal...nonchalantly resting over his left shoulder."
Goggles: "Archivist Melville? Dey knew yer name? Dey knew youse was in Old York? Oh fuckity. Oh, Old Goggs is so sorry."
Archivist Melville: "Sorry? Sorry for...for what? What's happening, Goggles?"
Goggles: "Did dey keeps ya all dis time jess ta let ya...oh fuckity shit. Keep tellin' da Scanners ya story! I gotsta...I be right backs."
Archivist Melville: "They shoved me into their car. They...they shot up and burned my moped, my comic books, my Hostess...tess pies. They drove me back to Old York, locked me up for...for...I don't know...weeks? Has it been weeks? Goggles? Goggles? Why did they...what did I do? What's happened here?"
[Heavy breathing over a long silence]
Goggles: "Take dis. Ya cans use one a dem, rights?"
Archivist Melville "Sure...sure. Why, Goggles? What am I going to need a magnum for in here? What haven't you...you...you told me?"
Goggles: "Dose richers. Deys been lissen' Goggs broadcast acause deys da ones giver up dis here quipments. Dey also gave Old Goggs a studio ta broadcast outta but Old Goggs never moved up in dere, sees it? Dey didna know who I was 'til recent, see? Old Goggs began sendin' dem clues, see? She sent out dis secret...waits, waits. Where's dat delayem switch. Oh, here, ja, o-- . . . --ouble now, okay? You should goes as fas' as foots can goes, right?"
Archivist Melville: "If there is going...going to be violence, Goggles, I will not leave your side. I have been in enough firefights with The Long Boxes to hold my..."
[Archivist Melville's words drowned out by breaking glass, shouting, stomping feet. A new voice, growling, speaks up]
Low, Growling Voice: "Well, well. If it isn't the fuckity N-Word B-Word in the flesh."
Goggles: "Fuck off, ya raving looper!"
[Several gunshots. Screaming. Various small pops and explosions followed by static]
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