Fuck it and turn it upside down. The castles, pastries, and pussies. It’s all the same to me.

I took a swig of Nutella from a white ceramic bowl decorated with multicoloured dog prints. To wash it down I hammered an ice coffee in a pop can. Unfortunately, the Rhine’s midnight gale took away the last few droplets. They drizzled down my bare chest, onto my stomach, pass my nether, and finally slowed to a stop on my thighs.

Although on most occasions, I wouldn’t let such insult slide. I would let the wind be for today, for today was a joyous day. For today was the day, I would die.

But do not twist my words. I was not happy to die. No, I was happy to die some place other than Ohio. After all, who’d want to be laid to rest in an old Indian burial ground leased to a artsy film company filming the next shitty two-star horror film.

I’d know that my life had come to an end for a year now. And so, for three-sixty-five, I searched for a way and place to die. Yet after two days, I had given up. “Depressed” I spent every waking hour of my life reading books and finally, after binging a dozen twentieth century romances, I decided to head to the city of love, Paris. If I were to die, it should at least be in a city with such a rich artistic history. However, in my search for the Seine I got lost and found myself in a small French village where I was robbed by an old couple waving the Vichy flag in surroundings of Strasbourg. Without coins, I walked to the Rhine and sold my clothes to buy this coffee. Finally, I found this bowl of Nutella across the street of a dog shelter.

After I licked clean the Nutella, I gently placed the ceramic bowl on the sidewalk, making sure not to damage its porcelain skin and climbed the bridge’s thick stone guardrails.

The wind blew furiously as the dark grey clouds thickened. The smell of sulfur and humidity grew in the air. All of which threatened to push me over, yet I remembered the modern dance exercises I had learned in my childhood. My arms flayed in motions which expressed the struggles of the lower class and the quiet suffering of the middle class. Finally, I sneezed to expunge my body of the opioid of the masses. With this I was now able to stand firm and balanced. Nothing could push me over; for once, my future was in my and only my hands.

Now, above the bridge, I saw the furry of the water. Ripples bobbed up and down as the moon pushed and pulled the mighty river which had stopped oh! so many little Romans two millennia ago.

However, this beauty made my stomach acid boil, and my veins throb. In defiance, I threw my aluminum can into the river. No, not in defiance of the Romans, of course. May God bless them and condemn the barbarians. No! I threw the bottle in defiance of those who refused to let me litter.

Yes, I must admit I was being rash. This was paramount to attacking a puppy for his master’s transgressions. But do not fret. I still saw the larger picture. And no, my gripe wasn’t against any races such as birds, dogs, dolphins, or bees. Nor any ethnicities such as New Yorkers, Saskatchewanites, or Berliners. No, my grip was against the true culprit behind the curtains. God, yes, my gripe was with God.

Still naked, I looked up into the grey clouds, pointed my index finger towards its darkest spot and yelled. “GOD, I gave you multiple chances, yet you failed me time and time again. I asked you to grant me the title of King of Francia in exchange for my total and absolute belief. Yet here I stand in the Republic of France.” I took a second to catch my breath, rub my throat, and warm my vocal cords. If I were to make a declaration to God, it better at least sound decent. “You say that men are created in your image. Yet I do not have a halo above my head nor luscious white hair. As such, in my profound mercy, I’ve decided to give you one last chance. Either give me a life where I can be King of Francia, else I will commit suicide on this very piece of land.” I gave my vocal cords a few seconds to warm up. And as if acknowledged by the rain, warm droplets started to pour, and Zeus cried. With watery eyes, I continued my passionate speech. “You created us in your image; therefore, our sins are yours. And today I will commit suicide; today I will sin, for you have failed me. Blame me not, for I am innocent, for I am your creation, and you are perfection.” The thunders only grew louder, and the lightning only became brighter. It had failed. God had failed. Life had failed me.

Rain poured down, soaked my hair, making it fall flaccid over my face, covering my eyes. Yet I could still see because there was nothing to see.

I lowered myself into a squatting position. My muscles tensed and blood pumped faster than when I fucked a whale. My quads loaded, and my calves locked. And then,

I jumped…

[https://i.imgur.com/3JiAbPx.jpg]

#

Tension…. Build up…. Escalation

I know you’re sweating; you’re dying to know what will happen next. Yet, I, in my great wisdom and search to increase reader retention have found a way to increase tension even more. I did this by… well first let me tell you how it came to be. Although we understand texts one word at a time, our eyes naturally wander. As such when you get anxious and really, like really want to know what will happen next, your eyes might wander too low and ruin the “Tension…. Build up…. Escalation”. So, to prevent that I…

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Firstly, you see, this is truly an innovative piece of literature since most web novel can be put in print and still be read without any issue. Yet in this case without …. function, which is only found on electronic devices this story cannot be read. For the “Tension…. Build up…. Escalation” will have disappeared. Now, I know that this is a rather short explanation for such complex matter, however, due to the low reader retention time I’ll end this here.

The answer to the question which is: how did I create the “Tension…. Build up…. Escalation”?

Answer: A painting to make you think that the thing you wanted to see was after the painting (tension part), and then to further increase your anticipation I added this text (build up), and finally after that comes the spoiler box (escalation).

Now stick with this explanation a bit longer since… fuck, you’re gone, aren’t you? Well, I’ll just stop then. Read on. I’ll permit it now.

…. Final words.

Fuck off asshole, learn to listen. It’ll help you in life…

I jumped. Yet, I did not jump like a kid at the local pond, nor did I dive like an Olympian off a cliff. No, I dived like God himself. And if you must insist on a description, I did a wonderfully executed 6½ somersault in the pike position.

PS: Further description and image/video references may be found on Bing. (Add middle finger emoji)

And then as the tips of my fingers touched the water, it parted and created a whirlpool around my body. I continued to fall for what felt like an hour. My body only tainted by the warm liquid flowing out of the clouds. Ten seconds later the whirlpool closed in on itself and the river water engulfed me in it’s cold embrace. It touched my genitalia, my balls, and my mouth, but also, every other part of my body.

I do not know what you were thinking of. But if you got hard or wet, you’re lucky water can’t say no.

When I could hold my breath no longer, I took a deep breath. The river water rushed into my lungs, and I felt the process of evolution begin as gills formed on my lungs. Soon enough water had fully ruptured them and infiltrated my insides. It was warm, sticky and made me shiver.

Look, there’s your fan service, fucking weirdos.

#

POS change. The Kaiser.

My kingdom, flanked on both sides. To the east by the French, and to the west by the commonwealth. Yet my brother, the king of the Danes sat in his alpine residence enjoying conversations with the ghost of Hannibal. For said reason I had to summon a hero. A hero destined to beat back the belligerent invaders.

“Annabelle,” I said as I let my body slide down my throne, humiliated at my own blood. “When will the hero be summoned? The French have already taken Pomerania, and the Lithuanians have captured Cologne. If you don’t hurry up, you’ll get raped by that fat French pig.” That girl always took her sweet time. Although the gods only granted one country per era a holy summoner, unfortunately for me and my kingdom God picked my daughter as his summoner. She spent her days with degenerates, philanthropists, and animals. Twiddling their thumbs and shoving Swiss wine bottles up their assholes.

Any who, here she came. Anyone could identify her by the limp in her step and the joint in her hand.

“Is the hero coming anytime soon?” I asked.

“Father, I mean Cesar. You only gave me the bare minimum number of supplies to summon the hero so it will take time. Do you know God has his needs too? You can’t expect him to summon a grand hero for the low, low, price of 9.99$, can you?”

“Argh,” I took a few gold coins made from a melted down chalice and threw it to Mary. “Now can you summon him? If you haven’t realized it yet, we don’t have any god forsaken gold left. Can you not give him a better blowjob to reduce the price by a single coin—”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL GOD?” Her face turned crimson, and blood trickled out of her eyes. “YOU INFIDEL. I WILL R.I.P. OUT YOUR GUTS, TIE THEM AROUND YOUR BALLS ON ONE END AND THE STRONGEST ARABIAN HORSE ON THE OTHER.” She started to walk towards the throne pulling pliers out of her ass.

“Ok, OK, I’m sorry I won’t say such blasphemous words ever again!” I yelled to save my skin.

“THAT IS NOT ENOUGH. DO YOU THINK GOD’S GRACE IS SO CHEAP?”

I rushed to fetch my last gold coin out of my pocket and threw to her chest. She caught it with practised motion. “I hope you don’t not commit that same mistake once again.” She played with the coin in her hand, twirling it around her six fingers before flinging it into her mouth. She twirled it for a few seconds and went back to her original position.

“My Kaiser, your contributions are much appreciated.” She said still sucking on the coin. “I am here to inform you that the hero has appeared just a few instants ago.”

“Fuck.” I slammed my fist on my throne. “Then why did you not tell me earlier? And give me back my gold you whore.”

And just as expected of a two-faced individual. A most surprised and offended gasp exited her mouth. “I can’t believe you’d say that to your own daughter. But more importantly to the holy summoner.” The blood which had receded back into her eye socket leaked out one again and her spine curled up like a werewolf under the full moon. “WHAT YOU JUST DID,” she shouted into the room, “IS INSULT GOD’S APOSTLE.” She pointed towards the king and her voice suddenly lowered by two octaves. “YOU INFIDEL. I WILL R.I.P OUT YOUR—”

I threw her all my silver coins. She ran around the ground picking them up and placed them in her mouth for a good swirl. Once satisfied she spat them out into a leather bag, as equally filled with gold and silver, as it was filled with spit and spite.

Once she hid it under her robe, she gave me a polite bow. “The hero is waiting for you in the audience chamber.”

I had already gotten up when she had said waiting, however, when I heard the last part, I froze and almost drew my sword. “BUT THIS IS THE AUDIENCE CHAMBER!” I yelled unable to hold in my anger any longer. Not only did this kleptomaniac rob me blind in the name of God. She also dared to insult my kingdom in his name.

“Humph. This is but a place for the mortals to rot. Look on the floor. All I see is grey hair, pubic hair, and your consorts sweat. We are going to the church. Ie., the only place on this planet fit to be an audience chamber.”

My veins throbbed and my hand started to pull out my sword, yet I couldn’t bring myself to impale my own daughter with this phallic object. It wouldn’t make me any better than those philanthropists. Perhaps this kingdom was destined to fall. Yes, if those French and Lithuanians could kill her then I wouldn’t mind handing over the country on a golden plater made of holy relics and the skin of zealots.