“Welp, I’m off,” said god, wiping mustard and ketchup from his mouth and licking it off his fingers. “Gotta gizazzle. Got another level I wanna clear, and I left my xobX back at home. Thanks for the Half Pounder Heavenly McDick, Dick. Gotta say, this one’s my fav. And your EXTRA BIGASS FRIES really rounded the meal out. Fuckin’ A.”
Normally, Greg would insert some seemingly-witty-but-actually-kinda-lame remark here, but he was far too occupied gorging himself on a Philly Dick McCheeseDick Fricken Burger to respond.
“Where do you even live?” Dick asked. “That white room from before?”
“Heeellll no!” God replied, making the Drake look away gesture. “I have a personal pocket dimension just like you. Actually, I have like 10,000. Kinda hard to keep track of them all, if I’m honest. Can I get an F in the chat?”
“Uh, god?” Greg said. “Those personal pocket dimension are WORLDS. Entire worlds, with people living on them. People with hopes and dreams! Don’t just misplace entire worlds!”
“Meh,” came god’s sagacious reply. “Alright, I’m out, peace brothers!”
“Nice guy,” Dick said, after god had left. “Sounds like a tough job. I feel for the man.”
“Uh, what?” Greg exclaimed, raising his nonexistent eyebrows. “God literally just said he’s heading back to play a video game. What part of that sounds tough to you?”
“Well, y’know. Like how he’s gotta keep track of all those worlds. Nelson Mandela once said there are more stars in the galaxy than the number of atoms in the universe. No way it’s easy keepin’ track of all that. If a burger or a game brings the man a measure of peace, that’s a small price to pay, don’t you think?”
“Oh GOD. I wanna barf.”
“You called?” god asked, poking his head through a portal.
“No. Go away.”
“Mmmkay then. Hey Dick? Wink wink?”
Dick nodded sagely and threw god another burger, which he caught with his mouth.
“Thwak woo,” god said.
“God, don’t eat with your mouth full,” said Greg as god’s portal closed.
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“Wait. How am I supposed to not eat with my mouth full? That's impossible!”
“Sooooo anyyyyyway, let’s just get this dungeon over with? Wait, actually, what’s even the point? God’s taken care of all the beasts. Why are we even down here?”
“Greg, Warmonger Myhatma Gandy once said, ‘be the meme you wish to be in the world.”
“Uh, okay? And what meme would that be?”
“The shounen manga protagonist who yells all the time and never ever stops, even if he’s dead. Especially if he’s dead.”
“Baaaaaaaaaka baaaaaaaaka,” Greg said. “Nobody likes hotblooded shounen protags these days. That’s so last decade, boomer.”
Before long, the two arrived at the deepest level of the dungeon. The lair of the fearsome [Dungeon Boss].
Though the tunnel they’d been had been small, the double doors to the dungeon boss’s lair stood a hundred feet in height.
Greg whistled. “Whatever baddy’s in there’s got to be big~! How are we even gonna open these doors? Ah, yes. Dick? See those runes on the wall? This is a complex puzzle. Seen it many times before. But no need to worry. Your friend Greg here’s an old hat at this kind of thing. Just watch me—!?”
Dick calmly walked up to the door and pushed on it, opening it with ease.
“Well oiled hinges. They do good maintenance around here,” Dick said, nodding with satisfaction.
“Wha—Why? How?” The flabbergasted star opened and closed his mouth in quick succession, unable to find words to describe the ease with which Dick had bypassed this herculean obstacle.
Within the massive room lay bodies. Lots of bodies. Some mangled and torn into pieces. Others relatively intact, but whose dead faces were etched in horror.
“Oh. Oh no. It’s Butch!” Greg said in horror. “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”
The single-headed dog that greeted them—Butch—stood over sixty feet tall. Its vicious red eyes glowered with anger and saliva dripped from a maw that promised a gruesome death.
“Dick! Run! Now!”
“Man, this is hard work, walking to the bottom of these jail things. Think it’s time for a nap,” Dick said, nodding to himself.
Even as the great beast charged at Dick, he didn’t lose his composure. He calmly brought out his CTTAAPIYOPPDBOH1HP and crawled in.
“NO, DICK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT CTTAAPIYOPPDBOH1HP ONLY HAS 1HP! YOU’RE GONNA DIE!”
“Relax,” Dick said from within the tent. “A man’s home is his castle.”
And so it was. When Butch’s mighty paw swiped at Dick’s CTTAAPIYOPPDBOH1HP, there was no death, nor destruction. Its attack was simply nullified.
Because a man’s home was his castle.
[Middle Class American]: Quastle Doctrine Activated.