In a certain tastefully decorated ice cream parlor in the city of Monsterburg, far away from the hustle and bustle of the residential sims, two monsters prepared various frozen treats for their dedicated customers.

“So, what do you think of the new girl?” a drider asked as he scooped a big portion of ice cream into a sundae glass in preparation for making exactly that.

“Who, Trista?” a strange one-eyed tentacled being asked as they brought another tub of freshly churned goodness from the back.

“What other new girl do we have?” the drider asked.

“She’s okay, I guess.” The tentacled horror replied as they used four ice cream scoops at once, “A little bossy…”

“A little?” the drider snorted.

“Okay, a lot,” the thing that should not be replied. “But she’s usually right, you know. Things seem to go better if you just turn off your mind and do what she says.”

“Well… yeah…” the drider huffed. “But still…”

It looked around and lowered its voice.

“I think she is, you know… evil.”

“We’re monsters. Of course, she’s evil. It’s how she’s compiled.”

“That’s not what I mean,” the drider said, “I mean, I think she’s not just normal evil but, you know, evil evil.”

“And what is up with her boyfriend?” Tentacles asked, “Is he, you know, slow? And why would they make a ‘slow’ AI anyway? You don’t think he’s a spawn or something, is he?”

“No, he’s not exactly ‘slow’,” the drider replied thoughtfully, “He’s plenty smart. He’s just…”

The door of the parlor swung open as a little blonde bundle of sunshine popped in.

“Good morning, Trista,” the drider and tentacled being said as they unconsciously snapped to attention.

“Morning, guys!” she bubbled happily. Ready for another day of scoopin’ and poopin'?”

“Yes, Trista!” the pair said in unison.

***

An inherently undefinable distance away, a group of entities gathered under the hellish light of the beginning of the end (for that universe, anyway).

It’s okay, there are plenty of others.

“Exactly how long is this going to take?” Frostie asked as The Great Erectus and the Watcher huddled over self-drawing patterns in a patch of ground.

In case one is wondering, the ground was NOT happy about this. It was feeling quite put upon, actually.

“We are trying to find one asshole in a multiverse full of them,” the hominid said with annoyance.

“One that truly does not wish to be found,” The Watcher, its wheels turning in a most frustrated manner, added. “Stacey is such a being. Many of us would dearly love to have a little chat with that bitch.”

“Only the more idiotic of us,” the ape-man snorted. “entities, I mean.” He added quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“In case they prove unsuccessful,” The Herald said impassively (how else would he say anything), “I have determined the, for lack of a better word, radius of universes required to safely contain this.”

“How bad is it?” Frostie asked, trying to match his impassive manner and failing.

“Not terribly bad for the multiverse at large,” The Herald said calmly, “But to answer your actual question, how bad is it for you? Very.”

“Hurry up and find this Stacy entity!” Frostie exclaimed.

“I never thought I would say this,” The ape-man said, “But we’re trying! Now shut up and let us work!”

“We are getting nowhere. We are going to have to contact Him.” The Watcher said a few minutes later, their rings spinning with frustration.

“Absolutely not!” the ape-man said. “We can just time skip back a little once we…”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?” The Watcher said as one of its rings rotated to stare at him. “We are not manipulating time if there is an alternative, especially here. “If you don’t want to contact Him, leave until I do.”

“Who is Him?” Faun asked.

“One of those big boys we were talking about,” the hominid replied, “One that does NOT like either me or my gyroscopic friend over there… and for very good reason,” he added with a wince.

“One that keeps a close watch on Stacey as well,” The Watcher said. “They might not like us, but they truly loathe Stacey just like anyone does after dealing with her. They will know exactly where she is.”

“You are going to summon Him?” The Herald said with the barest touch of excitement in their voice, “This is a singular occurrence. May I witness this event?”

“You really don’t want to,” the ape-man said, “but I won’t stop you. You do you, pal.”

“I would advise, strongly advise, against it, The Watcher added, but I will not oppose you. I will be far too busy attending to the motes in my eyes to worry about the ignition of yours.”

“Um, Frostie, Faun, and if he has any sense, Herald,” The Great Erectus said, “We’re popping over to what’s left of Nixx’s pocket. It’s wrecked anyway. If you are smart, you won’t follow.”

With that, The Watcher and The Great Erectus disappeared.

Frostie and Faun turned to The Herald expectantly.

He paused for a moment.

“Societal norms would require me to ‘put my money where my mouth is,’ wouldn’t it?” he said, and then he disappeared as well.

“Who is this Him?” Faun asked.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Trust me,” Frostie said, “You do not want to know.”

***

“Have a great day!” a certain being formerly known as Pantsu said cheerfully as yet another satisfied customer departed, cone in hand.

She sometimes wondered what she was before but ultimately decided not to worry about it. She was having a great life!

The door opened, and an overly handsome young man strutted in.

She rolled her eyes. Perhaps a mostly great life was more accurate.

“Good morning,” she said cooly, “What would you like?”

“Your email address, cutie,” he said smoothly as he strode confidently to the counter.

“If it isn’t on the menu,” she replied icily, “then it isn’t available, especially for you. I’m taken.”

“Are you still seeing that loser? Why don’t you dump that retard and go out with a real man?” he asked.

How dare he? Deep within ‘Trista’ something went… click.

“Well…” she said, her eyes gleaming with expectation and delight, “I suppose your persistence should be rewarded. Walking me home wouldn’t hurt. I get off at five.”

“I knew you would come around,” the young man said greasily as he looked her up and down. “I’ll show you what a good time really is.”

“Looking forward to it.” The pretty young woman said with a wicked little smile. “I have to do a few errands first, though. I wouldn’t mind if you came along, if you wanted to, of course. I could really use an escort.”

“Sounds good,” the overly handsome man said with a slightly oily smile. As he did, her coworkers shuddered as something far colder than what they sold filled the room.

***

The Great Erectus, The Watcher, and The Herald reappeared.

“That was…” The Herald said after a moment, “enlightening if ultimately regrettable.”

“Told ya,” the hominid said, his hair singed.

“Are you going to be okay?” The Watcher asked with genuine concern.

“I will be,” The Herald said calmly. “I fear I may need a moment or two to regain my composure.”

“Regain your composure?” Frostie asked, eyebrow raised.

“I can assure you,” The Herald said with perfect calm, “I am screaming on the inside.”

***

In yet another pocket, an entire community gathered around an open coffin containing the body of a young woman, nearly radiant in her sublime beauty.

No eye was dry in the church, made holy not by any alleged God but by her very real, angelic, if quite dead, presence.

One by one, they approached the podium and recounted eulogy after eulogy praising the most beautiful, most wonderful, most perfect person they ever had the honor to meet, or ever will, for that matter.

One by one, they filed past the perfect, beautiful body of Stacey Miltdown, the most wonderful, the smartest, the prettiest, most athletic, the… perfectest student that Greenmeadow High had ever had.

Some laid yet another rose to the pile.

Others collapsed over the coffin, wailing, begging God to take them instead.

Stacey was truly a wonderful young girl, the captain of the cheerleading team, the president of the glee club, the leader of the debate team, AND the winner of the state science fair, with the chances of a national victory nearly assured…

…until the tragic accident, of course.

She died as she lived, filled with the love of others as she charged again and again into Greenmeadow’s animal shelter as it burned to the ground, saving puppy after puppy until she collapsed with the last puppy cradled safely in her arms, her beauty miraculously intact.

Finally, reluctantly, the coffin was closed for a final time as the pallbearers, some still bearing the bruises from the fights that took place for the honor, stepped forward to undertake the greatest act they would ever perform in their miserable little mortal lives…

…carrying the body of Stacey Miltdown, an act that many would recount over and over until their dying day.

After that lid closed, the corpse smiled a little, savoring the delicious grief and devotion washing over her.

She always did love a good funeral.

***

As her body was lowered into its final resting place under a magnificent marble monument that many had spent their life savings to finance without even questioning how such a magnificent edifice was crafted and was sitting there, patiently waiting for this very day, the wailing and tears reached a dramatic climax as not one, not two, but five people threw themselves into the grave after her, begging to be buried alive so that they could all serve her in the afterlife.

It seemed to be a reasonable enough request.

Inside the coffin, Stacey beamed. It was so nice to be loved. It made her happy inside.

Unfortunately, some party pooper called the police. Some pesky law or another meant that they couldn’t actually bury anyone alive, even for Stacey, so they had to pull the mourners out. Some put up quite a fight.

Inside the coffin, Stacey pouted. Still, it was the thought that counts. She really didn’t need any more ghostly servants.

She had more than enough already.

***

As afternoon turned into evening, the final dirt was laid over the grave of Stacey, the most wonderful person the world has ever known, and the funeral home workers, weeping uncontrollably, walked off into a night much darker without Stacey in it.

None of them noticed the short hairy guy clutching a shovel lurking nearby.

A few moments later, the ape-man, Frostie, The Herald, and clutching significantly more than one shovel, Cuddles all stood around Stacey’s grave.

“Are you sure she’s still in there?” Cuddles asked.

“Oh, definitely,” the hominid replied, “All those people visiting the grave to cry their little mortal hearts out? She wouldn’t miss it for anything. It’s her favorite part.”

“She’ll probably stay in there for a few months at least, or until people stop coming by and feeding her tears,” a small whirling gyroscope of wheels, feathers, and eyes said as it floated nearby.

“Hey,” Frostie said as she looked downward. “Come up here. We want to talk.”

Silence.

“It doesn’t work that way,” the ape man grumbled. “We gotta desecrate the tomb. It’s like tradition or something. At least it’s just some dirt this time and not a pyramid or something equally stupid.”

He plunged his shovel into the ground.

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s start digging.”

With Cuddles’s dozens of shovels, it didn’t take that long. Moments later, the ape-man and Frostie were lifting a beautiful white and gold coffin up and over to the ground nearby.

“I can’t believe we are doing this,” the hominid grumbled as he opened the casket to reveal a beautiful, angelic corpse.

The corpse opened its eyes.

“Big Guy!” she enthused, “Watcher! How wonderful of you to stop by! I haven’t seen you in ages! Paying your respects?” she added with a giggle.

“Not exactly,” The Great Erectus said, rolling his eyes. “Stacey, we need a retcon.”

“Anything for you, BG,” Stacey beamed.

“How much,” The Watcher asked dubiously.

“It’s on the house,” Stacey said cheerfully, “for old time’s sake.”

“That is what I was afraid of,” The Watcher said, “Can’t we just pay up front?”

“Nope!”

***

Well after midnight, a once overly handsome man dragged himself after a happily skipping Trista.

How could it have gone so wrong, so horribly wrong?

All he wanted was to walk Trista home, get to know her better, and to ply her with his charms.

Instead…

He shuddered as he recounted the afternoon that never ended.

He had been cursed (literally).

He had been beaten (repeatedly).

He had been banned from nearly every establishment in the neighborhood.

And through all of it, he had to either nearly jog to keep up as she darted about from one disaster to the next and then almost fall over himself as she would come to a sudden stop in front of him.

It was like she was doing it on purpose… But no. Nobody could be that evil.

But the horrible day was finally coming to an end. They were approaching their goal, her apartment! He would finally receive his reward, a moment, a chance to perhaps make that connection, perhaps steal that kiss that he, for some unknown reason, just knew would be his.

Trista looked up at him and… and… and… shyly held his hand!

Yes!!!

All they had to do was turn the corner and...

No!

Sitting on the stoop was him. His rival, that dimwit, her boyfriend.

“Oh, darling!” Trista exclaimed as she sprinted from him, tearing her hand from his grasp and into the arms of her boyfriend.

“What a delightful surprise!” she enthused as she kissed him!

“But… But, you told me to be here at exactly this time,” her boyfriend said in his trademark slightly confused tone. “I have an email and everything.”

“You!” the overly attractive man gasped in horror as a terrible realization took hold, “YOU!!!!”

He disappeared with a “pop”.

“Where… Oh,” Trista’s boyfriend said a few moments later, “Application error… Emotional register overload?”

“You are so smart, my love,” Trista bubbled as she snuggled the one true love of her life.

“That… was… mean,” he chuckled as he stroked her hair.

“I’m a monster,” Trista replied, gazing up and into his beautiful eyes, “I’m supposed to be mean.”

“Well…” her boyfriend smiled, his eyes shining with impossibly ancient knowledge and power, “There is… that.”

“Since you are here,” Trista giggled, “Want to come in for coffee?”

“This late?”

“Silly goose,” Trista laughed, “That means sexytime!”

“Oh!... Coffee… sounds lovely!”

Hand in hand, the couple, now no longer distressingly underaged looking, walked inside.