JUNIER is... dumbstruck, and just dumb, but one of these is a new development.
--------The mind of the wretched wheels with banalities collating lust and love and fire. Until today, she would have scoffed at these expressions of pathetic, wasteful emotion; until now, she'd believed it beyond her majesty. But she no longer has an option but to accept her fate: thoroughly, utterly, and undeniably smitten with one Hot Goat.
--------Her goat has gone all molten and
magnificent, a masterpiece illuminated in a holy flame-cast glow. Lava veins run his bulging muscularity, down all four of his hairy legs. It will take a while to forget the way his unfocused square pupils caught the light, but even with just sockets, she could never call the "ascended" look a downgrade by any measure. Those
horns, too. Junier hadn't recognized them until they started to erupt with fire, but now she can't look away. Even while the heat emitted by her beloved sears her eyes. Even when she plummets into filth unlike her own as the tentacle disparates -- by how far, it makes no difference; this realm refutes physics. Even when Junier lies there baking like the bits of cobbler she's incidentally broken off. She ogles, choking back laser tears, at the beauty before her, wishing, instead of that fire, she could have engulfed him in all her fullness...
--------The Hot Goat looks dejectedly at the remaining ash before moving to greener pastures.
----------But, oh no! Where is that foxy fellow trotting off to? A profusely-sweating Junier breaths heavily through her hanging mouth, and makes haste!
--------Flouncing from the oven, her goat galloping some distance ahead, the iridescence of the dance floor aggravates the "girl" near-immediately as a hallway with sterile walls expands into a flourishing club scene. The last thing she needs is a lapse in her self-pity. So while a beat rattles off in her head, Junier keeps her eyes on her prize.
--------A path of smoldered hoof prints crisscrosses from square to flashing square. The bloat licks her lips and bears down on a certain flaming ungulate--
BLARG
Junier [ULTIMATE NUISANCE]
"yo but who dis pasty fool tho wif dis mad cock block boI IF YOU DONT MOVE
BLARG
???
You're looking at a bona fide Ambassador of the Court of the Great Tentacled One, ma'am! That's MacIntyre, yes-it-is. If I'm not mistaken, you're "Junier."
BLARG
Junier [ULTIMATE NUISANCE]
fuck yahhh but how u kno me
BLARG
MacIntyre [AMBASSADOR]
I was requested by his Greatness to bring you a message.
BLARG
Junier [ULTIMATE NUISANCE]
k geddit
BLARG
MacIntyre [AMBASSADOR]
I appreciate your compliance. Few else heeded this call. But Junier, Blight of Humanity and Ultimate Nuisance, the Great One wants you dead. You refuse to allow His sanctity into your life, and He tires of your insolence.
BLARG
Junier [ULTIMATE NUISANCE]
ummmmmm ok, tell ur boi to pull up thennn SHIT im tryin to score ri now
BLARG
MacIntyre [AMBASSADOR]
It won't be an immediate demise, He said. Nor one performed directly by His Greatness. He has other skeptics to devour. I don't totally agree with the decision, if it helps.
BLARG
Junier [ULTIMATE NUISANCE]
LMAO he SCARED, whatchu u even want by STOPPIN me w/ dis, boi u aint even gotta faCE
BLARG
MacIntyre [AMBASSADOR]
His Greatness will contort everything and everyone within His realm. I suggest you shift priority to finding a way out before he cooks up a nastier scheme. In any case--
BLARG
Junier [ULTIMATE NUISANCE]
man i am so sick of bein told whaddup, bitch i make my OWN rules, das my MAN over there
--------Without warning, MacIntyre's body ceases up. His voice drones forth like an automated message. Amongst all the uncomfortably-advanced vocabulary, Junier manages to comprehend a challenge.
--------Spontaneously, again, the ambassador flies into a routine of hip thrusts and poses, a show of Saturday Night Fever that Junier discerns she is supposed to out-contend. Of course, the very thought makes her want to vomit. Moving around like that would probably
make her vomit. Even with her exasperating absence of self-awareness, Junier admits she is fa too exhausted to dance. (That had to be the only reason.)
--------Wading there in filth and fluids, as MacIntyre dances circles around her, as the music swells in her head like a growing migraine, the scourge on humanity is flat-lining again, as in the oven, as with the tree. Envy and bitterness and inactivity; a lump builds in her throat, and her vision begins to blur. But then, amidst all the glitz, she sees smoke pluming from the horns of a warmly familiar face and understands she is not alone. The "eyes-meet-across-a-crowded-room" plays out. Junier, shielding her gaze, knows it to be true, that they have a connection; this is something
real. And so she reaches to Hot Goat, from the depths of her rotten soul.
Dearly beloved, lend me your power...
--------A burst of radiance expands and quells itself in an instance. Once engulfed, the blight remains, eyes flying open to reveal her pupils replaced with a harsh red light. Accessing her inner beast, Hot Goat's fire now resides inside Junier!
--------To the tune of His Greatness' ceaseless song, as MacIntyre dances on, the bloat grabs a mic and does him one better:
-- I COULD HAVE ALL YOUR FANS IF I WANTED TO
-- TIPTOP ROUND MY NAME, YOU LAME
-- LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN
-- BOARDS BE MECHANICAL LIKE MY LAST BITCH
-- PRIVATE DISCORD SERVER, DAS MY NEW BITCH
-- GOT A 4-POINT INFRACTION GOIN' HARD IN THIS BITCH
-- LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN
-- CALL ME CAPRICIOUS, DRINKIN' GOAT PISS, NO SHITS GIVEN
-- SAVED PAST-O-PAST AN' DUMPED ITS ASS, CALL ME TRUE VILLAIN
-- NO WRITIN' SKILL BUT CSS MAKIN' ME A KILLIN'
-- LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN
-- SIT YOUR PUNK ASS DOWN 'FORE YOU GET KICKED OFF THE D-C
-- CALL THE BOARDS COLD 'CAUSE YOUR ASS SUCK AT R-P
-- TRY TO STUNT HARD, BITCH WE LAUGHIN' AT YOUR SEL-FIE
-- LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN
--------It was then that Junier singlehandedly saved the game, forever sealing her legacy as The GOAT.
** Junier has received Hot Goat's LIT-ERACY in-exchange for LIMITED PERCEPTION. **
THERE'S BEEN A RIFT !!!
--------"Huh?" Junier watches with bewilderment as she arrives at a podium at the far side of the room. MacIntyre is there in a tux, and the two shake hands, before Junier slops over the top of the stand, her voice voluminous across, curiously, a crowd of disembodied pie chunks. The beat bestowed by His Greatness has been replaced for simulated applause.
--------The blight, different but the same, flashes a jaundiced grin in response to the enumeration, raising her Grammy high, then bellowing, "Clearly, I'm blessed by you-know-who to receive this award tonight. Truly, it's a honor--", but evidently not a humbling one as she elaborates,"--to be recognized for my talent by you all. There are just too many people I'd love to acknowledge, I wouldn't want to take too much of everyone's time to say anything other than how amazing it feels to have gotten so successful. Performing the Best Freestyle in History is one thing, but getting attention for it is the real accomplishment."
--------"Hold on!" The other unrecognized Junier bombards through the crowd. "Is this a 'Cadbury & Cadbury' thing or are you a sock puppet? 'cause this is surreal right now."
--------Junier the Second's face appears to fold in as she furrows her brow. "Seriously? You're gonna throw all your inside jokes out at once, huh? You know no one reads other peoples' posts, right? Who do you want to impress?"
--------"...those were jokes?" Junier the First is entirely unwitting.
--------"Idiot!" sneers her doppelgänger. "You lost the right for a coherent, non-self-effacing story, like, a few paragraphs ago. Start adapting faster."
--------Not appreciative of chastisement from herself, the First retorts in a bile-ridden roar, "Forget it, bitch, I don't care who you are. But you do not get to mack my bars. Hand over the Grammy, you fake--"
--------"Wassat? Can't hear you over my
success!"
--------At least the First has fixated on some material reward, so there can be an end incentive to their bickering. Unfortunately, though, neither will back down without a victor, and even then there will inevitably be contention. But only one Junier can proceed. Hot Goat must understand this because he's already leaving.
--------"Hol' up, my mans' is off," announces Junier the First and the blight goes waddling off in pursuit, leaving her malicious twin simmering in her wake.
--------From that stock-70's nightmare arrived a locale more befitting the portly parasite: an empty void that sunk down, down, down. Junier's gelatinous form fell through dark infinity, distance and duration indeterminable. Finally, a giant web sought to catch her fall, but her goat had already burned a hole right through, so whatever.
--------Junier instead strikes what is likely, probably, solid earth, cushioned by fat, rolling about like an overturned tortoise as her flabby limbs struggle for footing. Alas, exhausted (of writing, mainly), Junier curses the presence of normal gravity in this wacky world and resigns.