I was off to murder again. Golly gee, I love me some murder. This was hard because of my fat stomach. Being fat was a character trait, nothing that would impede me in some glorious murder.

I was just walking along to my job of murder when a portal opened in front of me. I was a giga-brain super chad, so of course I went through the portal. There had to be people or things to murder there. I got stuck in the portal. My morbid obesity was turning from some character development to a plot plug, filling up the plot hole that was this portal.

I squeezed through, somehow, don’t ask, since it involves non-Euclidian geometry, and I am super smart. You wouldn’t understand my explanation. My fat body increases my intelligence by 97%. My roguish good looks and witty catchphrases boosted the last 3%.

After somehow making it through the portal, again don’t ask how, I looked around. Someone was getting their rear end sued for copyright infringement from Minecraft. Those gray stone buildings looked like someone ripped them right out of a preschooler’s first Minecraft world.

The blocky constructions, right angles, and uniformity reminded me of a prison camp. That is what this place had become. I already wanted to stop reading, I mean leave. I turned to look back at the portal, but it had somehow grown wings and flown away. I might find it again one day after a lot of searching. But who has time for all those chapters? I mean adventure.

I was just going to commit some murder to get the day going. Like a cup of coffee, some good old-fashioned murder would get the blood going and make this day great. I looked around for someone to murder. Several other people had come through portals as well, but none were as super smart as me.

I didn’t bother looking at their portals, since I was focused on the murder. That was the most important thing. I looked down at my hands. My gun and other murder implements were taken by the portal. It was clearly an evil communist-fascist portal that had no respect for my personal property.

I wobbled my fat body over to a street vendor that had set up in the middle of the plaza. The vendor was dressed in an outfit I couldn’t be bothered to describe or illustrate. That was because I was planning to buy something, not murder this person.

“Howdy doody random merchant!” I greeted this person, being careful to be respectful. It wouldn’t be nice to present myself as rude. Rudeness was something everyone had to be mindful of. Trust me, since I am the only one with an actual personality around here.

“Hello there, random person. I have lots of things to sell you. Don’t ask about my supply chain. I am a special merchant that sources my goods from eco-friendly sources.” I nodded at that. Being eco-friendly was very important.

“Are your goods murder approved?” I asked the most important question right away. We didn’t have time to waste on useless character development, I mean backstory.

“Why, of course they are. I have all the best murder goods. Everything can be used for murder. You can call this store the Murder Manufactorum. It’s good for business!” I nodded at this. Of course, murder was good. That was why my name was Michael Murders.

I didn’t know if I changed my name or someone else gave it to me. We didn’t ask or need things like last names. I just tacked it on since it sounded cool. Other people might ask why but I ask murder.

“Get me two of your best beating sticks that I can use for murder. Got to have a spare, you know, just in case.” I said this last part to assert my position as the dominant super chad in case anyone was listening in.

“Coming right up.” The store clerk for the Murder Marketplace put two clubs on his counter. “That will be two crystals.”

I nodded at this. I only used crystals for transactions. Like the salt trade of old, look at my amazing historical knowledge, I also used crystals. I pulled out the baggie, which I like to partake in from time to time, or put up my rear.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I had a lot of shit inside of me, and the crystals helped loosen it up. That was another thing that was important, taking shits. But I am not going to think about that now, for foreshadowing. I mean, I have other things to focus on.

Opening up the plastic baggie, I eyed the various crystals. They came in all sizes and colors. I then eyed the merchant that ran Murder Monopoly. He was legit, possibly related to me with a bit of super chad in him. I picked out two mid-sized and slightly bluish crystals and set them on the counter. They just disappeared. Why? Because crystals just work that way.

I picked up the clubs. One at a time, since dual wielding was only done by regular chads, not super chads. My weight gave me advanced combat experience and understanding how to throw it around. “Come again any time,” the service person for the Murder Mall said. I gave him a nod to show my mastery of non-verbal communication.

I then set out to look for some murders to commit.

Everyone had run away or was very still. I couldn’t tell the difference. Well, if the murders won’t come to me, then I will go them. My name was and is and will be Michael Murders. Can’t change that, no siree.

My prodigious girth ambled across the plaza. Using its impressive mastery of words to propel itself forward with this clearly contrived situation, I mean plot; I mean adventure. I wandered through the city aimlessly, since I knew that I would magically appear where I needed to go.

Let me look at the map. I frowned when I realized the map was in another city and I would have to click to get there; I mean retrieve it. Well, the good news was that my fat body would give me energy to do all of this and my iron cast will would deflect anything that hit me.

More like steel cast. Make that titanium nano alloy composite cast will. It was so strong that it had its own gravitational pull. The entire plot orbited around it. I mean my massive girth; I mean my ego. That sounded right, and I nodded. It was important to get these things right. I couldn’t have any misunderstandings.

“Hello there!” A kind person greeted me in a kindly manner. I smiled at them. I was secretly the Joker, but couldn’t use that for copyright reasons. So I just smiled instead and called it a Joker smile.

“Why, hello there, kind person. We should team up,” I greeted them and made my offer. It was important to spread out the murders and have some emergency murders ready to gom just in case things slowed down. Just the plot, my writing, I mean my adventure was going to go warp speed.

“That sounds great. Everyone else just vanished. Let’s team up and do things.” That was a great idea. So, I retroactively made it mine. It was the giga-chad way. For I was no longer a regular super chad. I could feel this place making me a giga-chad and instantly knew it was true, and so it was true.

“I had the great idea to do things. Let’s go,” I said, and we set off.

“I am a medical student and Asian, I wanted you to know, since this will make you invested in me.” I nodded at that. A good backstory was always important.

“I am Michael Murders. Don’t forget. It is important.” I had to have that brand recognition and put the name of the story inside the story. Wait, just ignore that part. Nothing to see here readers. Just keep reading all this content and ignore these minor issues. They will be fixed later. Maybe. Hopefully.

We made our way through the maze of a city, using my giga-chad sense of direction to find the way. I was like an American Eagle. I could just sense things and was majestic. Also, everyone looked up to me.

There was a wall in front of us and a hole through it. I will call it a gate, since it is a wall and there might be a gate here someday. We went through and into a forest. A forest was a great place for murders. We walked into the forest looking around for any murders.

I spotted a blue slime crawling on the ground. A perfect target for my first murder. “Derp de der! Look at me!” A random person ran past me and picked up the slime. They then drank it. I didn’t question this. Other people were stupid when you were a giga-chad. It was a burden I was forced to bear with great humility.

The person screamed and melted in a gruesome manner. Insert some blood, bones, and various organs. You figure it out yourself or look up murder porn on Google. I might like murder, but I was not about to support people’s fetishes. My name was Michael Murders, not Michael Fetish. It was important to stay on brand for this adventure; I mean readers.

“We should help them?” My nameless teammate, who was an Asian medical student, posed the question. I would get to decide since I was the giga-chad of the team and that was the natural order of things. Also, I weighed more, and any voting structure would be based on weight. That meant I counted as two regular people or three small Asian medical students. It was important to manage political realities in my head. Since that was the only place that mattered.

I walked up to the slime and danced around it using my amazing club skills of club-fu. The slime burst and gave me a crystal. I picked it up and snorted it. Ah, now that was some good murder.