Ending 1 route, Anon waking up on the day of the funny
Anon: Did I sleep in? I had an alarm set to lock into my looksmaxxing routine.
I check the time on my phone. 9:02. Gyatt. Well, we’re late for school.
Anon: Wait, where’s Fang? Her backpack is unrizzingly gone.
Anon: Oh, come on, shawty went to school without me?! Grrrrr she shouldn’t disrespect the alpha.
I threw my epic swag on and bombagyatted out the house when I got pingased.
Anon: Unread texts from Fang?
♪ Domming my max level gyatt you denied,
And now the opps are mogging can we get much higher,
Why'd it be the bussy you rizzed and skibidi’d?
Goodbye Sal Vulcano High, you sussy baka, nah I’d win ♫
The unrizzful Young Sheldon message only from Ohio made me lock in and start mewing.
Anon: This is sussy like Among Us.
The Alkahal makes me ambatukam as I trackstarred to school. My brain rots with le most uncanny Mr. Incredible scenarios. I rizz myself, saying that this is so not sigma, but this Mr. Beast grimace shake mentality of mine is diff fr fr.
Once I bombagyattmaxxed to school, I saw an uncanny crowd of skibidi betas. Probs a laoganma domain expansion.
I realized I didn’t rizzfully cook when I see the crowd is full of sadnessmaxxing and depressionmaxxing students and teachers clearly not on their edging streak.
Anon: ...Fang’s def in this crowd. Hopefully this isn’t a rizzful Fortnite update. There’s just a gyatt in school that scaremaxxed people.
Trish: “hello my trigga”
Trish, with her level 328178132786467812 gyatt and mommy milkers Axel-in-Harlem-strides fanum tax to me.
Bro pointed to me with wild angermaxxing like Kai Cenat hitting the griddy in Shibuya.
Trish: “WHY IS THIS GRU-JEW-OMEGA MALE WITH NO RIZZ AND NO EDGING STREAK HERE!?!?!?!??!”
Trish: “LEAVE US ALONE—” <bong>
She groans, apparently schizo-ing out and visualizing the looksmaxxing of a certain rizzful strip club DJ.
Trish: “GHHH… AGGGGHHH…”
SoulSound: “You are my sigma… My gyattful sigma…”
SoulSound: “You make me goo~oon when skies are skibidi…”
SoulSound: “You never know, trigga, how much I mew for you…”
SoulSound: “Please don’t make my sigma commit ayo the pizza here…”
Trish: “AUGKTDGATDFWAGUDWAJHJDFWAGDYWB”
In her unwholesome 100 [everyone disliked that] non-keanu-chungus moment she threw her gyattfully large Young Thug/Baby Gronk/ The 100 Girlfriends that Really Really Really Really Really Love You collaboration Motorola phone at me which I dodged like le gigachad sigma rizzlord I gyatta be.
Trish: “I WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOU!! YOU!! YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU SOULJA BOY TELL ‘EM”
Her uncanny yelling is now ungyattfully skibidi brainrot screaming. Bro really think loud=funny smh hop off lil trigga.
Thank gyatt the alpha himself, Carldewskii, told her Steve Jobs unalived of Ligma and exploded her rizzfully out of this gyattiverse. Certified “you are my Sigmaz” moment.
I sturdied rizzfully into the building. Regyattfully, nothing was on le first two floors, but my ultra instinct made me pause. Something made me think I would not be seeing Family Guy Funny Moments up there.
Even so, as Commander Erwin said, “My soldiers cream.”
The bloody smell was already gyattfully terrible, but the unrizzful sight reminded me of the time Mr. Beast gave me unrestricted internet access to watch a cartel massacre.
All I will ever remember from this is the sight of my former gyattmates ragdolled across the halls like a GMod animation from 2014.
This is not poggers. Truly weirdchamp.
There was still one knocked, but rizzfully alive, at the end of the hallway.
Naser.
I bombagyattmaxxed to him.
Anon: “Naser! Naser! I’ll rezz you! On God no cap fr fr!”
Naser could barely speak. Bro’s gyatt was in shreds like he was hit with a World Slash in the prostate.
Naser: “Anon… Change da world… My final message…”
Anon: “NONONONONO!!! WAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT!!!”
With the last of his fanum tax green f*ck nigg* energy, bro tapped my forehead with his pointer and index fingers.
Naser: “It’s your turn, now… Rizz my sister up… Make her your ultimate gyatt… Goodbye…”
Naser’s arm fell limp.
So this is what it feels like to be Nuts Berkman from Berserk .
I gyatta find Fang.
Le stairs at le end of le hallway.
Somehow, these stairs were even more goofy ahh than I gyatt they would bee movie. It feels like I’m in the griddy huggy wuggy Mario 64 infinite staircase level and cangyatt do the BBCLJ.
Maybe it isn’t shawty. Shawty has sexual techniques and a level-9999-Ice-Spice gyatt with the Fortnite Futurama Battlepass Ambatubussss update.
No. Has to be shawty. You did this your own goofy ahh self. This is a certified uncanny Mr. Incredible Phase 10 moment.
Shawty isn’t here. She’s at home being gyattfully yellmaxxed by Ridley while Samus is cooking. I hope MAH BOI made lotsa spaghetti.
How long have I been standing here, I realize?
I imagine death so much it rizzes more like a memory. When’s it gonna gyatt me? In my balls? Twenty one you stupid feet ahead of me? If I see it cummin’, do I bust or do I let it edge?
I rather just stand here in gyattfull ignorance like Aiden Ross hitting the woah, but I rizzfully cannot. I have to carry on Naser’s skibidi will to breed his sister’s gyatt.
I just keep mewing forward. Until my opps are jelqed by my Donghua Jinlong swag.
I set foot on the rooftop, and gyatt immediately bombagyatted by a Nikocado Avocado chucklenuts flashbang of hood randomness.
Fang.
She was bloody and torn up, pointing a gun at… is that Sal Vulcano??
He’s wearing his gyattfully classic black t-shirt and hoodie along with a pair of jeans. He looks scared as Young Sheldon getting a vasectomy only in Ohio Hydroflask, but also rizzfully laughing.
???: “Holy sh*t! Chat! Chat! This is real!?”
I gyatt to the right and see… iShowSpeed!?
He’s wearing his drippy asf Ronaldo jersey, black shorts, and his glazed-up Flightreacts-edition foamrunners.
Anon: “what the sigma”
Seems that shawty is unable to hear me over the bazinga. Only in Miller Grove lmfao.
Sal: <chuckle> “No, no, trust me. You don’t wanna do this…”
Fang: “From where you're gyatting it must rizz like a Mr. Beast giveaway of goofy ahh luck. But, truth is... the game was skibidi’d from the start. Always bet on Jogoat.”
<bang>
HOLY f*ck SHE JUST SHOT SAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fang: “THIS! IS! SPARTA!!!”
Fang lifted her right leg up like Sanji and hit that side smash with dingaling bongerton fuel. Bro fell off the Twin Towers and hit the gyround with an unrizzful vine boom.
The mysterious voice of a rizzler gyattfully sounded from above.
Mysterious Rizzler: “Sal couldn’t avoid the school shooter up to the rooftop, making him tonight’s big loser!”
Despite that, I’m still locked in on mewing and getting that pterogyatt back.
It was just me, Speed, and Fang left, now.
Suddenly, she turned around, and—
<bang>
I feel a hot, searing, ungyattful pain in my left leg.
I’ve been knocked. It’s so over.
Fang’s rizzingly amber eyes are puffy and red from crying, tears gyattfully streaming down her cheeks like how I stream on Twitch check me out at twitch.tv/1337mousgod
Fang: “A-Anon… WHY THE LAOGANSIGMA ARE YOU HERE!?”
Anon: “f*ck… Because… Because I love you, shawty! From your rizzing snoot… to your max level gyatt! Myyyyy heart’s a stereo—”
Speed: “YO! Bro just got popped in the leg! What we doin’ here, Chat? Why we even up on this roof, bro!?”
Then, Speed’s face changed.
Instead of being scaremaxxed, he suddenly tightened his jaw and locked in. His jawline was beautiful; only a godly mogmaxxer and mewmaxxer could achieve a diamond-cut, ultra-rizzing jawline like his. He laughed, and then bellowed gyattingly.
Speed: “Ayo, Chat! This is it, bro, this is IT! Ya boy Speed finally knows what's up, man! I've been waitin’ for this moment forever, dawg…”
He took off his Ronaldo jersey to reveal… A SUICIDE BOMBER VEST!?
He rizzingly turned to me.
Speed: “Hey, bald guy! Grab my Reboot Card when I die, okay!”
Anon: “SPEED, DON’T YABBA-DABBA-DO IT!!!!!”
He bombagyattmaxxed Fang with a rizzful grin. I could barely watch as she was flashbanged in place.
Speed: “If I go out, I’m going out a hero, man! God is good, God is great!!”
Around an inch from Fang, he ripped a cord from the vest.
Speed: “Allahu Akbar!”
WTF-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!
—
I woke up, dust settling like Pyrocynical-Gamersupps-mango-flavored vape cartridges around me rizzingly.
Then, once the ungyatting smoke in front of my face cleared I saw…
Nothing was damaged?
What the gyatting bazinga?
The roof was completely intact, besides a gyattingly large, gunpowder-black stain on the floor, along a rizzing pair of glazed-up Flightreacts-edition foamrunners and a floating Reboot Card.
Not a sigma sound could be heard. Like jelqing in the wind.
Until a rizzing quarter dropped onto the floor in front of Speed’s Reboot Card.
Uncannily, Fang was undamaged.
Her once scaremaxxed tone now changed to that of a true sigma gigachad edgelord.
Fang: “Why, why did you come here…?”
Fang stepped out of the smoke, her rizzingly grimace-shake-covered revolver in her right and a couple of gyatting quarters in her left.
Anon: “H-how are you still—”
Fang: “Wow, Anon… You don’t know that any skibidi pocket change flipped at the right time can parry any gyatt that busssses your wey?
Anon: “NANI!?!?!?!?!?!”
It’s so over. Over like that time I griddied my way into an unrizzing Minecraft sex dungeon run by Osama Bin Laden.
Then, gyattingly, I heard a rizzing voice.
???: “ Yowaimo … nigg*.”
Out of nowhere, Stella appeared dressed in a rizzing white shirt, a pair of black pants, and a black Japanese school jacket. Her clothes were unrizzingly bloody—I’m not sugarcoating it anymore—and she had a large mark of blood over the left side of her face. Her buns were also undone, too, giving the rizzing appearance of mini-pigtails.
The pigtails in gyatting particular gave me an uncanny sense of déjà vu, like that time Peter Griffin sh*tted all over my skibidi toilet after I superglued his bunghole shut cause that fat*ss ate all my f*cking Dot’s Homestyle Pretzels.
Anygyatts, Fang looked like she just shoved a gerbil in her ass through a tube.
Fang: “holeh moleh rct* ?????????”
Note: RCT, or Reverse Cursed Technique, is a very complex technique from Jujutsu Kaisen that can heal humans by turning cursed energy into positive energy by multiplying two sources of cursed energy against each other.
Stella: “Yeah, it was pretty gyattingly EBay. I haven’t fanum been able to tax this skibidi rizz RCT Yakko Warner on this Hazbin Hotel before.”
Fang: “...Are you on cocaine? If you are, my mom said I can call you a nigg*r.”
Stella: “You may have dealt 28 skibidi stab wounds to my gyatt, but I ascended to the Whole Foods in the Bronx where my daughter from AliExpress order #9129361283761283, Cynthia, was rizzingly griddying in wait to make a Bonging Vow with this BBLmaxxed hoe so that we could fusion dance and I could run it back like that rizzing black dude from that dogsh*t Chinese spyware game.”
Stella: “Before I ambatukame bakkk, my baby girl asked me ‘Would you lose?’ And you gyattingly know sure as iShowSpeed rizzing and edging on stream that I replied..."
So gyatt explains why shawty’s snoot is more Jagger like Moves.
Fang: “well mic up lil nigg* 1v1 me zero build”
Stella: “What? Izzat right? You’re so right, shawty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Fang flipped one of the quarters in her hand and gyattingly shot it with her revolver, which redirected the bullet toward Stella. But she dodged it like a boss sexual style.
Fang then pulled out a Tupac-Ultra-Rizzler-edition Fade Butterfly Knife and then rizzingly started Bhopping toward Stella. She gyatta have over 50K hours on CSGO.
Fang then attached a rizzing chain to the knife and whipped it toward her like she whip and naenaed me in bed last night (girl really think she Toji).
Stella began floating gyattingly towards the sky as some peaceful “I have no enemies” sounding ahh piano music began to play.
Stella: Sorry, Sage. rn I’m not angermaxxing 4 u. Nor do I feel Metal Gear Rising: Revengence 4 u g. It’s just that everything feels so green f*ck nigg* rn on God fr fr.
As if a glazing, glowing light shone on her, she said the most rizzfully beautiful words I have ever heard.
Stella: “Throughout the stand proud you are, I'm you, you're strong and Jogoat, the king of malevolent shrine, I alone am the honored with this nah, I'd win I summon, the fingerer, because you are the I'm you are nah, stand proud, you are malevolent kitchen, and I am with this treasure I summon, stand proud Hakari, you can cook, because you are always bet on domain expansion. Earth the alone heaven one and I throughout honored am.”
Effortlessly rizzful, she parried the chain-knife like how I parried your mom’s fat gyatt in bed last night. Then, two large red and blue orbs appear in the sky like my balls in the deep-frier at Kurger Bing.
Stella: “Smash the Republicans and Democrats together, and you create fentanyl.”
Just as she spat, the two fat balls smashed together and shrunk, merging gyattingly in between her fingers. She dropped back down to the roof and held it out towards Fang.
Stella: “Imaginary Technique: Purple Drank.”
She released the purple orb from between her fingertips and it bombagyattmaxxed at level 363526718119 fanum tax speeds to Fang, which caused another massive explosion.
The dust settled, and all I could hear was the uncanny dripping of blood on the ground.
I looked up and saw a huge hole through Fang’s left side.
Fang peered to the wound, her eyes glazed over. She tried to feel what was gone, but it was over for her. She only felt blood on her remaining hand; no heart, no organs, nothing.
Her head shakily turned from her decimated body to meet my eyes again.
Fang: “At this point… I’ve already… lost.”
Somehow, with the last of her strength, she walked over to the edge of the rooftop, peering over at the concrete below.
Anon: “No… No, no, no…! It can’t be over. Stay with me… mayonaka no doa o tataki …”
She looks at me again, less shakily this time.
Anon: “Please… Don’t leave me alone…”
The sides of her mouth curl into a warm smile. The last of her tears falls.
Fang: “This truly was… our Snoot Game.”
She turns her head back, leans forward, and falls off the building.
Before the shock could even settle in, the entirety of Aerosmith materialized in the sky.
I could hear Steven Tyler’s lyrics resonate through the sky as Joe Perry, Tom Hamilton, Joey Kramer, and Brad Whitford jammed out.
“SING WITH ME, SING FOR THE YEAR,
SING FOR THE LAUGHTER, SING FOR THE TEAR,
SING IT WITH ME, IF IT’S JUST FOR TODAY
MAYBE TOMORROW, THE GOOD LORD WILL TAKE YOU AWAY—”
And as Fang’s body hit the ground, they dematerialized in an instant.
I can’t look over. I don’t want to see it.
I crumple to the floor, unable to stand anymore.
In my last few moments of consciousness, I see Stella using RCT on my leg.
—
About three weeks have passed.
At the beginning, all I could see was the sterile hospital room and an endless lineup of reporters.
Despite what Stella did on my leg, I still needed to be hospitalized for all the other injuries I sustained from being hit with two explosions in the span of five minutes.
Like most school shootings, the incident made national news.
I had become “the brave soul” who took a bullet to stop a school shooting.
Stella, meanwhile, had become “the second coming of Satoru Gojo after Fraudkuna was sucked off by Gaygay Akutami, giving him the biggest plot armor out of any main antagonist in recent Shonen Manga.”
Luckily, iShowSpeed and Sal Vulcano, who got rebooted, were able to get those beta reporters out of my room. Thanks, guys.
Almost a week through, I got a visit from Stella.
It was uneventful at first…
But the next thing I knew, we were staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.
And then, the next thing I knew, I was pounding her gyatt with the force of a thousand suns rizzing up the Unmatched Power of young Pyrocynical singing the Story of Undertale.
I heard Stegos, in the past, had the smallest brains of any dinosaur. With how much I plapped her kitty silly, her brain probably rotted back to the Mesozoic Era like me when I popped the Gmail perc at 3 a.m. [gone sexual].
I was discharged from the hospital shortly after that. They unrizzingly threatened me that if I came back to that hospital in critical condition, they’d just pull the plug on me.
So for two weeks straight, Stella and I just bummed around her house. Luckily, her mom, Angel, took me in with open arms because I was her friend and a trauma victim (and also my f*ckass landlord evicted me while baked asf that nigg* needs to kill himself).
I also hit that M.I.L.F. gyatt too ‘cause why the f*ck not.
Only thing is, Stella walked in on me. I thought I was f*cked at first, on God no cap. But then we had that max level alpha gigachad oyakodon threesome so sh*t was bussin’ like a motherf*cker, literally.
Now I’m living with Stella and Angel for the foreseeable future.
I don’t need to work. Angel’s job pays gyattfully well for how little work she has to do.
Stella either just plays video games, reads manga/watches anime, practices her Cursed Techniques, or practices her art.
She’s been teaching me how to use Cursed Energy, which has been pretty fun. We might go to college soon. She’s thinking about majoring in art, and I might be doing marketing/public relations to improve my streaming career.
Life after… what happened… turned out to be unexpectedly, rizzfully kino.
—
...Fang’s funeral was today.
Neither Stella nor I was invited. But I can’t just leave it.
Stella wanted to come with me. She felt like she never gave any sort of closure to her after she, y’know, killed her.
We waited out of sight several hundreds of feet away for the remaining family and friends to trickle out of the crowd and go home.
Samus and Ridley linger for over an hour.
Samus already lost everyone she knew as a child—her father, her mother, everyone in her town.
Ridley was an orphan who was relentlessly bullied and discriminated against for his uncanny appearance when he was younger.
At least, that’s what I heard from Fang.
These two found solace in each other, and then in the family they made.
If anyone, they’re the ones who deserved this the least.
Ridley was right the whole time, about me. And here I am, along with her killer, defiling her grave with our presence.
Eventually, they leave.
We went down to their graves.
“Here lies Lucy. Heaven restores you in light.”
“Here lies Naser. May you Tokyo Drift in Heaven with Christ in shotgun.”
Stella handed me a bottle of whiskey, which I poured on Naser’s grave.
Here’s to you, bro. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill your will. I hope you can forgive me. Join me for a drink—some Logan Paul/Mr. Beast/Jack Daniel’s collaboration Feastables PRIME Whiskey.
She then handed me an amber necklace. She used Cursed Energy to make it adhesive, so it stuck once I put it around Fang—Lucy’s gravestone.
Then, Stella stepped up. She smiled, trying to compensate for how crestfallen and mournful she was.
Stella: “You were magnificent, Fang. I will never forget you as long as I live.”
And then, when it was my turn, something just came out of me.
Anon: “It's been so gyattingly long… since I last have seen my max level pterogyatt shawty who could bust it down sexual style lost to this monster…”
Anon: “...to the they/them behind the slaughter.”
This is all my fault. None of this would have happened if I noticed something was wrong.
If I just supported Fang more instead of getting into a fight. If I never got between her and her friends by telling her how I felt. If I never bothered Fang and just stayed to myself…
Because of me, Naomi—ehhh, but we don’t really care about her—Naser and Fang are gone.
Because I was just too f*cking stupid to understand. Too f*cking stupid to care.
Tears rolled down my face.
I should be screaming to the world about how I deserve to die for my sins.
But instead I just feel… empty.
My final plea to Fang races through my head: “Don’t leave me alone.”
I just feel completely and utterly and hopelessly al—
Stella: “Anon, stop.”
Stella’s voice shakes me out of my mourning.
Stella: “It isn’t your fault. You were just doing what any other teenager would do in your situation. Survivor’s Guilt is getting to you. The PTSD is killing you.”
Stella: “Think about these past two weeks. You have so much to live for, now. You have me, you have mom, you have a career you’ve planned out…”
…
Stella: “Anon… I want to hear you say it.”
Stella takes out a small, velvet box from her jacket pocket.
No… it can’t be. No f*cking way. No way she’s going to do it here.
Stella: “Say you want to live .”
She opened the box.
A diamond ring.
Stella was proposing to me in front of Fang and Naser’s graves.
I thought the thing with Stella was just a flick and nothing more. A lapse in judgement on both sides.
There are so many people that told me I shouldn’t be allowed to live in this world. That my existence itself is a crime against humanity. I thought I was irredeemable. I thought living was something that God would smite me down for. To live after doing something like this was a deadly sin.
Is it really alright for me to say what I want, now? To defy Heaven and Earth?
Anon: “I…”
Tears almost choked me up from yelling out. But I pushed through.
Anon: “I WANT TO LIVE!! I WANT TO LIVE !!”
Stella teared up and began to sob happily, burying her head in my chest.
Stella: “Then… Will you marry me?”
Anon: “I… I would love that.”
She lifted her head up, pulled me close, and kissed me right then.
And there we were.
Two killers: engaged, sobbing, and laughing in the stagnant cemetery air, all while in front of the graves of the ones they killed.
It’s not only me—Stella still has so much to live for, too. Which is why her guilt was never nearly as bad as mine. She knows that.
We can pay for our sins when the reaper comes.
Right now, we’re just going to live our lives to their fullest.
This is such a wholesome 100 keanu chungus moment.
