Humans are boring, so much treasure under their feet and they are too afraid to just go and get it. “Hey Karen, how do I get into the Under City?”
She hisses at me and dumps another load of mystery meat in heavy sauce onto my plate. “Same sewer grate we use for bathroom. You go, then you die down there.”
Karen pauses for a moment to scratch her bum. “Ok I give you job, before you die, you clean toilet pipes for me.” She throws open cabinets behind the counter and pulls out a flashlight and a toilet bowl brush and tosses them to me.
She motions for me to follow and leads me to the outdoor toilet. Karen reaches into her oily apron and pulls out a crusy pair of rubber gloves. With a grunt she pulls the giant sewer grate over her head and nods into the darkness.
I hold my nose and lean over to stare down into the foul smelling abyss, looking for anything I can use to climb down.
“I give you advice. Never turn your back on a Karen.” Before I can turn around, she delivers a swift kick between my legs. As I fall into the darkness, she laughs, “HAHAHA, all your meats are belong to me!”
The tiny window of light I fell from shrinks from me at 9.8 meters per second squared. I reflexively claw at the air and with my arms and feet, looking for walls I could push against to slow my fall. There is nothing except for the shrinking pinprick of light above me, just how deep was this hole? This new sensation of freefall was unnerving.
Overclocking my mind, the long seconds dragged on as I struggled to think of a way to survive the fall. Gandalf, I need help again…
Gandalf.exe search running…
Terminal velocity fall detected..
Minimize damage to the head by orienting your fall feet first.
I kept my arms out to create drag and truck my legs together to orient my feet down. I feel my feet shatter into a mass of sharp bone fractures as I hit the bottom. Expecting my legs to buckle and my torso to fold, I braced myself for massive organ damage but I found myself underwater instead. Oh yea! I fell into a sewer and there was water at the bottom to break my fall. My body immediately began to rebuild my foot bones as I swam for the shore.
The strength of the shitty sewer water pulled me along like a flushed turd in a toilet. As I was about to ask Gandalf for help again, someone snagged me with a net and hauled me out of the water. A giant rat with an amazing combover shrieked and chittered at me, surprised as I was at his catch.
After 5 minutes my language filters roughly deciphered his rodent language. The giant rat said, “Hello stranger, my name is Mech’Anus, it’s pronounced mag·nan·i·mous by the way. I am not a robot haha… My friends say I talk too much but let me tell you something, it’s best to tell everyone how you feel instead of bottling it all up and letting all your thoughts and worries eat you up from the inside out you know? People don’t do enough to take care of their mental health these days. Getting my friends to go to therapy is like trying to sail a ship through a sea of grass. They see the amber waves of grain and everyone is afraid of getting wet. Metaphors, what do they mean, right?! Anyways, I like to go fishing when my brain juices are low. Everyone says I am just lazy and don’t work hard enough but maybe I should just eat more fruit, like bananas. Probably a potassium thing. Okay, so who are you and what are you doing in my net?”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
My feelings of gratitude for my rescue gradually fell with each of the rat’s nasally vowel squeaks. The rats’ language sounded strangely familiar. Gandalf identified the language as French with a dash of Louisiana Cajun flavor. Maybe I should just kill off my benefactor, he was clearly behaving like one of those stupidly flawed side characters in Gandalf’s story.
But based upon my gains hanging out with the Backstreet Boyz, I decided to play along to see where this encounter leads. I squealed in broken French. “I are lost, plz help.”
“Your ratanese is terrible! You offend my ears with your feeble attempts to communicate with me,” scoffed the ratman.
Swallowing my pride I responded, “Sorry, me talk pretty one day.”
Running a paw through his combover, the ratman said, “You are lucky you were saved by such a humble, charitable, and righteous christian such as myself. But as our great leader once said, God only helps those who help themselves. Speaking of God, have you heard the good news? Donald Jesus Trump, our chosen one, second coming of the living god, orange king of America, and breaker of elections, has risen to make christianity great again! DJ Trump is 10x more christian than Jesus!”
The rat crosses his arms, “you better not be one of those baby eating liberals who need a million different kinds of bathrooms to pee. There should only be 3 kinds of bathrooms; male, female, and one for storing classified documents. So make the right choice, stranger. Heck if you play your cards right, you may even be allowed to join our Fellowship or I can throw you back into the water.”
I shrugged, “Take me to your leader.”
“You made the right choice, now follow me to the Trump Underground where we patriots continue the fight against the big steal and the billions of illegals poisoning the blood of our country.”
----------------------------------------
The Trump Underground is a strange place. A mad underground honeycomb of ratmen, molemen, trolls, and lizard people all in a frenzy of movement fighting each other, then building churches, schools, and hospitals only to abandon and tear them down a few moments later.
“We used to be normal conservatives before Jan 6th and Weird Winter forced us underground. We were persecuted for our christian faith just because we took an unscheduled tour of congress. So we went underground to avoid the authorities and to build our bunker of belief and faith.”
“Now follow me closely, our bridges and roads have no guardrails because we don’t like regulation and like having Jesus take the wheel. So be ready to dodge out of control minecarts and roadragers.”
There are no sidewalks, each step forward is a battle against traffic and the madness of a thousand car horns screaming endlessly into the void. It only took 10 minutes to get to Trump City but we had to literally fight traffic tooth and claw for 10 hours nonstop to get to the city center. I increased the proficiency of many of my combat skills and learned Offensive Driving after commandeering a rogue minecart.
We double parked outside city hall and pushed our way into the building with Mech’Anus the giant rat leading the way. “Out of the way, I got a new guy here I found in the sewer who needs to register to vote!”
When we finally pushed and shoved our way to the front, a lady with a name tag: Ardnas put down her paper and said “Next please.”
“Hey! New fella, you look familiar…” She picked up her newspaper and held it up against my face. Are you that new supervillain Barry Goggles aren't cha?”
“Ahh, no?” I said.
“Oh don’t be shy, listen here, we don’t discriminate like those cancel culture topside liberals down here. As long as you fight for us, we will support you 110%!” said Ardnas as she rolled up the newspaper.
“As a matter of fact we could use someone of your skills Mr. Goggles. Now, hold on, let me offer you our Fellowship membership package. If you join our cause, you get an army of minions, 401k, full medical, a golden parachute, stock options, and all of the money and stuff you steal you can fence here tax free!”
“What about food?.” I asked.
“You drive a hard bargain Barry. I’ll throw in a coupon book good for 10 all you can eat lunch or dinner visits at the Old Country Buffet.”
I immediately shook her extended hand. “Deal!”
“Splendid, now all you need is a proper villain's name, something to strike fear into the hearts of liberals. Or better yet, how about an undercover alter ego since your secret identity is already blown? Tell me about your likes and dislikes.”
“I like to eat Tofu.”
“Don’t joke, now that would be a dumb name, let's call you Soy Boy so that you can better blend into the leftist naming culture. Welcome to the MAGA army. Here is your new uniform.”
She handed me a bright red hat and a shiny gold pair of Unconditional Surrender Trump shoes.