Never let any man tell you that you cannot surgically remove a penis bone with a sharpened-against-a-rock gold coin. It’s a nasty thing, but the reward —a small, frail bone not good for much— is worth the effort and repulsion. Collecting and wearing the ears of your enemies may make you look badass, but harvesting the bones of their very penises and crafting things out of them? That tells people you are not to be fucked with.
Or it would, if the garden variety of ignoramus had even the faintest trace of the precursor of the catalyzer of the idea that many mammals have bones in theirs cocks.
Anyway, after we rinsed in the river of immortals carefully to not drink a single drop, I filled the waterskin with that which should not exist because it makes every other substance in existence pale in comparison.
I mean water.
Have your ever checked how many properties this bad girl has? Four fucking hymen-shattering hydrogen bonds per molecule. High as a rapper latent heat allowing oceans and lakes to be effective heat sinks. Denser as a liquid than as a solid. The big momma of polar solvents. Acts both as an acid and a base, can undergo autoprotolysis, and doesn’t complain about having to work two shifts. Yes, this water could make you immortal, but that was the least amazing fact about it.
Following our quest indicator back to the town, we traversed the sands swiftly. Most of the dangers had been murdered, I had a good sleep while floating in the newfie. Whatever Mariana did while I was out, I will not take responsibility for it. Not like I’d ever need to…
I slept till noon, because I was using the belts to cover my eyes and ensure sunlight would, at worst, introduce me to the marvelous world of skin cancer, instead of waking me up.
Nightmares of college and thermodynamics assaulted me. Enthalpies, entropies and Gibbs energies swarmed around me like crows around a corpse. I fought them with all my might, kicking them in the differentials and punching thermodynamic cycles. I struggled, and after every futile effort, more numbers sprouted out of my skin. Constantly bleeding energy into the system, I became an unwilling contributor to the heat death of the universe, and there was no way out.
Then I woke up floating inside a newfoundland made out of water, and I had the solace that, at least, this world made no fucking mathematical sense.
“Mariana, how long do you think we have till we reach the town?”
Mariana didn’t answer. She was snarling at a blue catgirl that stood atop a dune. A living one. Catgirl, I mean, not dune. The dune was normal and pretty much not alive.
She was snarling at three blue catgirls.
Two blue catgirls.
Eight blue…
Four…
I jumped from the newfie and felt no pain from sunburns. I realized HP regeneration had been countering the damage from UV irradiation. Besides, Planet probably had a healthy ozone layer.
“Hello ladies, are you friend or foe?”
They hissed.
“Mariana, stop growling at them.”
“AHDKHSAHJSDJSDKJD.”
“Don’t metaphorically head-butt the metaphorical telepathic keyboard, you absolute moron.”
“They are catgirls. Catgirls! The concoction of a dog’s most popular enemy and a weaboo’s most popular enemy,” stated Mariana.
“How rude. I have nothing against cats.”
The uncountable catgirl/s started advancing with a slow, careful, measured, cat-like, synonym-rich step. They bared their teeth and meowed as they stalked us.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Do you think they want to eat us? Because, well, I don’t find that appealing since a couple years ago,” I said, casually.
“Walter, what the vet’s office are you talking about?”
“I am vore-free, Mar, I got rid of that hellish fetish for good.”
“What fetish?”
I readied my dagger.
“Being eaten alive. Some losers are into that. But I outgrew it. Now I only fantasize with healthy things that won’t lead to my death.”
“Humanity needs to be purged…” she inclined her head to the side and started whimpering. “But they make treats. What is this feeling?”
I caressed her head softly. “Moral dilemmas, Mar. You will get used to them in due time.”
“I don’t want to get used to them, I want them gone!”
“Pro tip: lack of morals can solve that. It did the trick for me.”
A gal jumped, probably with the intent of hugging us in a slightly rough and very undertaker-friendly way.
I grabbed Mariana by the tail and positioned my legs.
For the first time in history, a homerun was achieved by using a gundog as the bat and a blue woman as the ball.
As she flew away, one catgirl divided in several, and then became two. You could never count her the same way twice.
“Okay, Mariana, I know how to defeat them. But, given they are an infinite resource, we could farm them for meat.”
“Let me do this, then,” she said, and wiggled out of my grasp.
Mariana jumped snout-first into the sand, disappearing beneath the surface. A couple girls were trying to flank me. Their movements seemed to leave afterimages, but I knew better: all of them were real, and they wouldn’t be the next second.
I reanimated my belts and used the spell to share our stats. Mariana was being Mariana, so I could not trust her to defend me. I would have to use my dagger and belt-whips to defend my person if any of my adversaries approached.
Then a yellow, hairy tail popped out the ground, plowing through the sands.
“Dun-dun, dun-dun , dun-dun…” began Mariana.
She jumped from the ground and grabbed a catgirl from the neck, drawing her underground. The sands below the spot the catgirl was in gradually grew red.
I shrugged, ordered the belts to make a recliner chair and got myself comfortable on it.
“Proceed with your murder attempts, ladies.”
Our attackers started retreating to higher ground after Mariana had merked five of them. I think they realized it was impossible to reach me as long as my faithful companion was making her best impression of a Hollywood shark.
“Mar you will have to dig a few out later. I want to have steak tonight.”
“Roger.”
I know what you, judgmental assholes, are thinking: this was unnecessary cannibalism. And no. They were not humans. This was not different from eating cows or pigs. If we gave human rights to every single thing a couple degenerates consider fuckable, any society would collapse in about… seventeen minutes.
I watched a cloud pass by. What was a cloud doing in the middle of the desert? Maybe just… passing by. Like we just pass by life without truly interacting with it. What if it was a metaphor? A sign of God? A…
A jet of blood sprayed on my face. It tasted terrible. These skanks couldn’t even bleed properly.
“Mariana, if I catch felihominid AIDS I am going to euthanize you via kicking your ass so hard that they will need to amputate my leg when I am done.”
“Roger!”
My attention shifted back to the cloud. Why are you here, missus cloud? Do you also feel out of place? How can you be so ugly if you are just a bunch of water? Seriously, you look like a tomato left in the fridge way past its expiration date, and…
Blood freezing screams and hissings started coming from any direction every few seconds. The smell of iron and cat shit gradually permeated the dry air. Disgusting. Why couldn’t catgirls smell better on the inside?
“How many more, Walter?” asked my little murdering machine.
“I guess two dozen are enough. Summon the Hobo and let him handle the issue.”
Mariana sprung out of the sands, and she was coated in red. She shook the blood off, showering me with it. Long story short: everything was going according to plan.
She lost no time and casted Summon Hobo. A flash of light followed and the man appeared with his loincloth and his disgusting wealth of myosin.
Mariana went and started burying up the remains we needed for a complete, nutritious meal.
“Missed me, young man?” asked our destitute ally.
I flicked a gold coin to the poor fellow.
“See those scared, blue, apex-predator-looking lasses? I want you to get rid of them.”
He cracked his knuckles with a worried expression. “Well, I am not used to hitting ladies, but…”
“Listen, you can do it non-violently for all I care. Play tag with them, sing for them, fuck them. Not my monkeys anymore. They are your problem now.”
“Problem, you say?” He smirked, and then let out a guffaw. “Wait, why are the sands stained in blood?”
“Paws,” I simply answered. Then I sat up, retrieved my ever loyal belts and mounted on the newfie —who was, for some reason I cannot fathom, panting.
“Sayonara, school of clodpolls.”
“Walter, don’t leave me!” Mariana came running like the Golden Retriever she was and got stuck headfirst into the body of the newfie. The water around her and the rope of bodies she dragged gradually took a characteristic pink tint.
And so, leaving a trail of foul smelling catgirl blood and entrails behind us, we rode away. In the distance, the derelict posed like a body builder, inflating his repulsive muscles, making an undeterminable amount of catgirls swoon and fall head over heels for him. I tried not to think of the brand new sexually transmitted diseases that mix would spawn.
Later, we camped and cooked our hard earned game. During the preparation of the meal I found, to my tragedy, that catgirls lacked a baubellum.