“Uh… Hi Dick.”
“Uh, hi Greg.”
“So!”
“So…”
“Mind if I ask what we’re doing here?” Greg asked.
“Fuck if I know! I thought the characters all die when the story ends. Meat grinder ‘n shit.”
“Yeah! Me too. It’s something the readers don’t even consider. Can you believe it? We all get slaughtered when a story ends and nobody even cares! Where’s the justice? Where’s the morality!? And what about the time between chapters where we all die and get resurrected!? Are we even the same people anymore? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!” Greg panicked sagely.
“I mean, the story’s clearly not over yet, so we clearly can’t be dead. Right? Or wait… is it the other way around? Did I get it backward?” Greg clutched his starry head with his oversized cartoon hands and muttered to himself with tears in his eyes.
“Well, sheeit, I dunno,” was Dick’s comforting response.
“Besides,” Greg continued, unperturbed. “I thought we were only getting another chapter once Big Rick Energy got 6.9 new reviews? Has it really been that long? Have the chicken flown the coop? Has Mordor really fallen?”
“Well, y’see, I dun math too good,” Dick replied sagely. “Never did learn me them decimuls. Decumiul shmesimal, is what I say. So, yeah. We got six NICE!! reviews, so we get another chapter.”
“Ah, yes. The ancient art of truncation. Well, I’m not complaining,” Greg said. “I’ve always wanted to know what happens in those stories after the protagonist defeats the demon lord. Will this turn into a cozy farming fantasy? I’m so excited. Doki doki. Waku waku.”
“Me too, Greg. Me too. Excited to get back to flippin’ burgers. Even if we’re only getting one chapter.”
Dick was, in fact, at that very moment, at his burger stand, flipping burgers(Was that a lot of commas, or what?)
Dick enjoyed few things in life more than the Sect of the Deep Fried Dead. And was there anything more deep fried than cultivating chicken nuggets and burger patties?
“Nay, I think not. I think this is the most deep fried thing man can do,” said God, poking his head through a portal. His cheetos-encrusted beer told of long hours playing Helldivers 2 singleplayer because he didn’t have any friends. It’s lonely at the top.
“God! Fancy seein’ you around these parts,” Dick said, shoving a burger into God’s eagerly outstretched hands. “Here, have a Double Dicker Cheesewhopper McDickson the IVth. New recipe. Ascendant Patty stage cultivation.”
“Damn, that is some seriously cultivated burger, Dick,” God said. “You’ve leveled up since fighting the Demon Lord.”
Dick shrugged. “A patriarch must have eyes to see the Obsidian that lies atop Mt. Skyrim, after all.”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
“Er, I’m pretty sure it’s Jade… and Mt. Tai,” Greg said.
“And I’m pretty sure I took an arrow in the knee,” Dick replied smoothly, flipping a sizzling patty.
As usual, a line of twenty thousand peasants had formed in front of Dick’s burger stall, and business was booming. With his [Boarslaughterer] doodad, Dick had no shortage of burger patties, either. Feed a [Boarse] through one end, and raw meat comes out the other. Nevermind the gore. Or the horrific screams of death. It was, in short, the closest stage to enlightenment someone in the [Sect of the Deep Fried Dead] could attain.
“So, Greg, I heard you’re getting your own story,” Dick said, nudging his floating star friend, who blushed furiously.
“Aww, nah. Not really. Just cuz he’s got the same name doesn’t mean we’re the same person!”
“Come now, Greg,” God said. “I know better. The Greg in Vowron’s new Soulweaver isekai litrpg has the same soul. You’re soulmates! It’s even in the name!”
“Aw, shucks. I suppose you’re right,” Greg said, his starry face blushing furiously. “I mean, we’re both pretty 1337 gamers. I guess… I guess it takes one Minmaxer to recognize another, after all. Gotta admit, that other Greg’s got a good eye for the strats.”
“Right,” Dick said wisely. “So this new story of yours. I’m honestly pumped. Can’t wait to read it. Isekai LitRPG? I think it’s Vowron’s best work.”
“Yeah. It’s a subtle, fresh take on a stale trope, and I gotta admit, the execution is just sublime,” Greg said, beaming with pride. “I mean, I’m biased of course, being the MC.”
“You literally just said you’re not the MC. You literally just said he’s just got the same name as you,” Dick said. “I mean, hell. He’s human! You’re a star.”
“No! I mean, well, yes, but as you said, we’re soulmates. We’re tighter than that, you dig?”
Dick nodded vociferously. “I dig.”
“Yeah, anyway, everybody should check out my new story,” Greg said.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Dick asked. “You off your rocker or some shit?”
“The audience, Dick! The audience! All the Big Rick Energy readers reading this. I’d just be so incredibly happy if they rate and review and follow and maybe even favorite my new story. Because I’m like… a fan favorite.”
“You are?” Dick asked. “But I’m the MC.”
“Well, sure. But—y’know what? Nevermind. I don’t even need to argue. My story’s gonna blow yours out of the water. And if it doesn’t, I’m gonna curse you, Dick. I’m gonna curse you to hell and back.”
“Ah, Hell’s overrated,” God said, licking a cheeto-dust-covered finger. “Trust me. Way too hot for vacationing.”
“Say, Greg,” Dick said, wisely ignoring God.
“Yeah Dick?”
“It’s occurred to me that this chapter really wasn’t about me at all. This was just one giant advertisement for your new fic. Wasn’t it?”
“...” said Greg.
“...” said God.
Dick grinned. “I’m jus’ messin’ with ya. That’s impossible, I know. After all, it’s called Big Dick Energy, after all.”
“Um. Actually? I dunno how to break this to you, Dick, but it’s actually Big Rick Energy,” Greg said in a sheepish voice.
“Seriously? The hell kinda name is that?”
“Well, see, the Winged and Johnerable RoyalRoad gods shot down the original title. So… yeeah.”
Dick blinked, staring off into the horizon as his burger burned on the skillet.
“Dancing Dorothy and fuck me sideways. We’re all gonna die again, aren’t we?”
Congratulations! You have Number Go Up’d! Welcome to Number Go Up: 6ixty Giggity 9.