Bailed, true to his arsehole nature forgets that he is a deity and bombards my weary mind. "First of all, stop narrating!" he exclaims, oblivious to the throbbing headache he's inflicting upon me. "I'm getting a bloody headache from your relentless stream of consciousness! And second of all...".
But let's face it, whatever Bailed was about to say probably wasn't interesting enough to hold my attention. My mind drifts away, occupied with far more pressing matters—like pondering the mysteries of the universe or deciding what flavor of ice cream to indulge in later. After all, why waste time on the incoherent mutterings of an egotistical deity when there are much more important thoughts to entertain?
Ah, the irony! Here we stand, two peas in a twisted pod, both unapologetic arseholes in our own unique ways. One might even say it takes one to know one. And as Bailed continues to prattle on, I find solace in my selective deafness, blissfully tuning out his monologue, savoring the sweet respite from his self-importance.
So, let the failed god drone on, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, while I, the cunning mortal, revel in the delightful irony of this encounter.
Ah, but on a side note, the peculiar phenomenon of arsehole detection is quite an interesting phenomenon! It seems we possess a secret superpower, for arseholes can indeed sniff out their fellow brethren. It's like we have an innate radar for detecting the distinct aroma of assholery, a talent that sets us apart from the mere mortals who roam this realm.
And speaking of peculiarities, let's not forget the strange dance of depression. Those afflicted with this melancholic state seem to possess an uncanny ability to spot others who share their melancholy. Yet, instead of finding solace in their shared struggles, they often engage in a battle of woe, comparing their misery as if it were some sort of twisted competition. It's a perplexing phenomenon, really. They either become jealous of each other's misfortunes or feel compelled to outdo one another in the realm of tragedy. Ah, the human mind, a labyrinth of inexplicable madness.
Now, let's take a humorous detour to the realm of the male gaze. It's a curious thing, isn't it? Whether straight or gay, men have an uncanny inclination to check out each other's derrières. It's as if our primal instincts kick in, urging us to assess the curvature and symmetry of those gluteal wonders. Even the fat, less conventionally attractive among us can't escape the gaze when they decide to bend over. It's a paradox, really. We know it's slightly disturbing to witness a full-on ass crack display, and we should mentally prepare ourselves for an imminent mooning. But alas, we can't help but indulge in this peculiar habit.
And now, as Bailed interrupts my musings with his question, I snap back to reality. "Did you get everything I explained?" he inquires. Well, dear Bailed, amidst this whirlwind of dark humor and absurd observations, I believe I have absorbed the essence of your ramblings. The intricacies of arsehole detection, the strange allure of comparing miseries, and the perplexing tendencies of the male gaze—they have all been etched into my mind. Whether I fully comprehend the reasoning behind these curiosities is another matter altogether, but who needs logic in a world as delightfully absurd as ours?
"Not really! No," I answered, my response dripping with a hint of mischief.
Bailed let out an exasperated sigh, clearly annoyed by my lack of enthusiasm. "I am Bailed! I will graciously send you back to the realm of the living, and as a token of my questionable generosity, you shall be granted one wish," he declared, his anger palpable.
Ah, the classic wish-granting scenario. But wait, there seemed to be a discrepancy. "Wait, why only one wish?" I questioned, perplexed by the limited offer. "Isn't it usually two or three? You know, like the standard wish package deal?"
Bailed, visibly irritated, massaged his temples in an attempt to quell the growing headache induced by my persistent inquiries. With a disdainful glare, he retorted, "As I've already told you, that deal is reserved for mortals with manners and potential, and you, my dear interlocutor, most certainly do not fit into either category!" Ah, the burn of his short-dick energy, making itself known.
Ah, but Bailed's attempt to redirect the focus did not go unnoticed. "You do know that I can hear your rude inner narration, right?" he interjected, attempting to divert the audience's attention away from his own short dick energy. Clever move, failed god, but I see through your tricks!
"Tell me what you want before I change my mind and just push you into hell," Bailed growled, his anger radiating with an intensity that could make even the devil himself tremble. Sensing the gravity of the situation, I wisely decided to hold my tongue and comply, not wanting to experience a one-way trip to the fiery depths.
"I want to have the powers of 'The Freakazoid'!" I blurted out, unable to contain my overwhelming excitement. Oh, dear readers, imagine the exhilaration coursing through my veins, akin to the euphoria of a seemingly hopeless League of Legends match, where all hope seemed lost, towers crumbled, and nine idiots flaming me relentlessly. Yet, in a stroke of sheer brilliance, I turned the tides, snatching victory from the gaping jaws of defeat by backdooring up all their collective asses. That, my friends, is the level of excitement I was experiencing at the mere thought of possessing 'The Freakazoid' powers.
Oh, the possibilities! With those extraordinary abilities at my command, I could conquer the world, or perhaps just master the art of perfectly timed comedic timing. From zany antics to absurd shenanigans, I would be the embodiment of chaos and laughter, a force to be reckoned with in this topsy-turvy existence.
Bailed, momentarily taken aback by my enthusiastic request, could not help but crack a sardonic smile. For even in the depths of his irritable disposition, he couldn't resist the infectious enthusiasm that radiated from my being. And so, with a begrudging nod, he reluctantly agreed to grant my wish, knowing full well the hilarity and chaos that would ensue.
"Your description is actually quite fitting, in some odd and insane way! Okay, that earned you a little bit of grace!" Bailed admitted begrudgingly, a glimmer of begrudging respect flickering in his eyes. "Tell me, as whom do you wish to be reborn?"
With a mischievous grin, I revealed my audacious choice. "I wish to take over as Eezie Quinzel, but here's the twist—I want to change my backstory and make it so that my dad is Peacemaker's father. That's right, I want to be these two characters' half-brother!"
Bailed, clearly perplexed, raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but ask, "Now why the actual fuck would you want that?" His confusion was palpable, like a befuddled cat caught in a world of nonsensical yarn.
Ah, how do I explain the depths of my grand plan without revealing the dark and questionable corners of my mind? The allure of Hentais, the sultry allure of Harley Quinn, the tantalizing dance with madness, and, of course, the art of trolling the world with masterful finesse. But alas, I sensed that Bailed might not be as open-minded as I had hoped, particularly when it came to discussions of incestuous antics, enemy-bum humiliation, or, dare I say it, cannibalistic tendencies.
"I am definitely not open to any of that shit that is going through your insane mind!" Bailed interrupted my inner monologue with a resounding declaration, his face twisted in disgust. "You damn sicko! Now, tell me the true reason!"
Ah, foiled again! It seemed my attempt to unveil the depths of my eccentric desires had hit a roadblock. But fear not, dear readers, for I shall craft a more suitable explanation, one that dances delicately on the tightrope of humor and absurdity.
"And how does Harley Quinn fit into your lunacy?" Bailed inquired, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice.
I couldn't help but let out a mischievous chuckle. "Ah, dear Bailed, you see, my fascination with Harley Quinn lies in her unparalleled charm and magnetic allure. As the half-brother of both Harley and Peacemaker, I envision a wickedly entertaining dynamic, where we embark on wild adventures filled with humorous banter and unexpected twists. And as for the 'fucking' part... well, let's just say I wouldn't mind exploring the depths of mischief with that tantalizing minx. If you catch my drift!"
"No, I do not.": Bailed replied.
"Ah, well," I began, feigning innocence, "you see, dear Bailed, I am a connoisseur of unexpected twists and turns. By intertwining the fates of Eezie Quinzel and Peacemaker, I aim to create a truly mind-boggling and comically chaotic storyline. Imagine the hilarity that would ensue when the estranged half-brother wreaks havoc alongside these iconic characters. It's all about subverting expectations and injecting a healthy dose of lunacy into the narrative!"
Bailed, though still skeptical, couldn't help but crack a tiny smile, appreciating the audacity of my vision. For in the realm of dark humor and twisted tales, nothing is quite as satisfying as a well-executed plot twist that leaves both readers and gods alike scratching their heads in bewildered amusement.
And so, with a nod of begrudging acceptance, Bailed granted my wish, knowing full well that the realm of comics was about to witness a new breed of chaotic hilarity. Hold on tight, my friends, as Eezie Quinzel, the half-brother of Peacemaker, takes center stage, ready to ignite a storm of laughter and madness that shall reverberate throughout the comic book universe. Let the absurdity begin!
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Attention, my dear audience!
I have a confession to make. Deep within the recesses of my twisted mind, there has always been a burning desire to craft a magnificent FanFiction chef-d'oeuvre intertwining the worlds of DC and the enigmatic Freakazoid. Alas, time has proven to be my greatest nemesis, forever eluding my creative pursuits. But fear not, for the tides are turning!
If you, like me, find joy in the realms of imagination and humor, I invite you to embark on this journey with me.
I have set up a Patreon page, lovingly adorned with the link https://www.patr((e))on.com/ikaru5, where you can support my deranged endeavors and gain exclusive access to behind-the-scenes madness.
Now, as I bid you adieu, I leave you with a wish for a day as delightful as a cat riding a unicycle while juggling flaming marshmallows. May laughter be your constant companion, and may your path be paved with absurdity and mirth. And remember, my friends, the world may be chaotic, but with a dash of humor, we can conquer anything!
Stay weird, stay wonderful, and keep your minds swirling with imagination.
Yours mirthfully,
[Ikaru5]
P.S. In case you're wondering, no, I don't have a girlfriend, I have not yet figured out how to clone myself yet. But rest assured, your support on Patreon will undoubtedly hasten the development of my cloning technology and my endeavor to find love. Just a little bonus incentive!
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