Orcaline
:pleading_face:
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Hello readers, this is my entry to this year's Small Writing Competition. I cannot attest to its quality, nor can I recommend its consumption. But like all of the monstrosities I've willed into existence, it feels wrong not to share it with the world.
On a serious note I absolutely ran out of time here and the story did suffer a little - I've rewritten some of the midsection to smooth out some bumpiness along the way and have streamlined a few things just to make it a (hopefully!) more complete and enjoyable read. This story is also absolute complete nonsense and was born out of my temporary obsession with Farm Merge Valley on Discord so if you're not into that then I can only apologise and recommend you read one of the many other fantastic entries from this year's contest. This story contains some violence and profanity but nothing too crazy.
I also shamelessly stole this CSS from Chase but since others have too I'm happy to share the crime.
![[PokeCommunity.com] [SWC] Rodney's Final Merge](https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/animalcrossing/images/3/35/Rodney_NH.png "[PokeCommunity.com] [SWC] Rodney's Final Merge")
Long ago, society had reached an impasse. Progress was no longer possible. Technology had stunted – nothing new could be discovered, nothing new could be made. That was, until, someone dared to ask the question: what if, instead of making… we merged? World leaders were in disbelief. Top scientists were flabbergasted that they'd missed something so obvious. Einstein himself rolled in his grave. That one brave man – a genius of his time – was John Zynga. And with his question, he birthed something the likes of which mankind had never seen… Farm Merge Valley.
For a few months, world peace was achieved. Man and woman alike came together, merging their livestock and crops in sweet, tranquil, blissful harmony. The economy recovered to the strongest it had been in years. House prices fell by more than 75%. Even the users of #serious Discord channels everywhere were able to look out the window and see joy where they used to see nihilistic misery. But sadly, that wasn't to last.
Many lives were ruined by this game – and one of those lives belonged to a small blue hamster named Rodney. One fateful afternoon, Rodney discovered the joys of Farm Merge Valley. He was enthralled – he couldn't believe the hours of fun he was having merging together farmyard animals. But that enthrallment soon turned to addiction. Rodney lost hours of sleep to this game. He had no wife to lose, but he would have lost her too. Eventually, Rodney was among the top 1% of players. He even made it to the Merging World Championships, where he made it to the final round. Everything was pointing to a total victory for the rotund rodent. Nothing could stand in his way. Or so he thought.
Rodney lost the tournament at the final hurdle. His final merge failed – he realized too late that, due to his horrendously subpar eyesight, he had tried to merge a mixture of stage one cows and stage one goats. He was a fool. He was the fool. It took Rodney years to overcome the depression he fell into. His therapist had suggested he make guest appearances in the highly popular Animal Crossing video game franchise, as a way of restoring his zest for life — and while Rodney still hated himself for numerous other and perfectly understandable reasons, he did finally shed the shame that had come with his failure. Rodney hadn't touched Farm Merge Valley in almost fifteen years. Rodney had long shaken his merging addiction. But the same couldn't be said for his father – Toddney.
Toddney was once a normal hamster, living a comparatively normal life with his Unnamed Wife and his son, Rodney. That was, of course, until he was drafted into a revived instance of the MKUltra experimentations. After the initial programme completed its goal – making all Australians forget where they're from – its senior operatives realized they still had significant funding leftover, and began a series of new sick and twisted programmes of experimentation. Toddney came away from the programme 25 pounds lighter and buccal fat free, but with the small caveat that he was now labored with a crippling merge game addiction.
His downfall began when he first laid eyes upon the Merge Mansion grandma. He was infatuated with this irresistible woman – her devious schemes enticed him, igniting a spark Toddney hadn't felt in years. Merge Mansion led to Seaside Escape; Seaside Escape led to DesignVille; DesignVille led to Merge Sweets. But the worst came when Toddney was on a Discord call with one of his many "e-Kittens". After a misclick, he discovered a game you could play inside the Discord app. A game he had sworn never to touch after what it had done to his son. Farm Merge Valley.
It only took days for Toddney to have sunk his entire life savings into the game. He sold off his parent's home to fund further purchases of premium in-game currency gems. He burned through Rodney's Animal Crossing royalties in a matter of weeks. The game had, to put it lightly, ruined Toddney's life. Rodney was furious – his money was gone, his father was a loser, and now he was constantly reminded of his biggest failure. Every night, Rodney was kept awake by the never-ending sounds of incessant mouse clicks and worn-down keyboard presses. The shrieks of laughter as a lucky merge five bonus was achieved. The sobs as Toddney maxed out another credit card on yet another farm expansion. One night, Rodney had enough. He stormed into his father's swampy bedroom and demanded he never play the game again.
"B-but son, le ham," Toddney stammered, glancing back and forth between his chubby revolting son and the progress on his bakery expansion, "I-I can't just stop! I'm in too deep… the money – our money! I can't let it go to waste, le ham!"
"What about our family, le ham," Rodney bellowed, grabbing his pathetic father by the scruff of his neck, "what about us? You're tearing us apart! Our money – it's all gone, le ham!" Rodney put his father down, letting out an exasperated sigh, pacing the room with his tiny diminutive legs.
"I h-have… I have an idea, son, le ham," Toddney said, his lip quivering. "You see, there's this competition of sorts – a-a, a tournament –" before Toddney could finish his sentence, Rodney had gone feral, sharp teeth shooting out of his jaws like some kind of freakish X-Man knockoff. MMost veterinary professionals wouldn't have hesitated to euthanize him on the spot. Toddney jumped back, agasp.
"That tournament ruined my life, le ham!" the rodent screamed, in disbelief at the audacity of his father to want to enter. But deep down, Rodney knew he was right. There was no other way that they could win back all that money unless they entered this year's Merging World Championship at the PokéCommunity Get Together Crypto Arena. Defeated, he retracted his teeth, and meekly glanced at his father. "Just don't mess it up like I did, le ham."
A defeated Rodney returned to his room, noticing his highly valuable Funko Pop Vinyl collection had been tampered with. Suddenly, a bag was thrown over his head.
Rodney's disgusting little bloodshot eyes slowly began to squint open. He had been taken somewhere – a warehouse, perhaps. In front of him was a fully functional road legal Little Tykes hybrid diesel-electric car. The license plate read "A7CN3M". Beyond the car, a figure emerged. The shadowy silhouette slowly paced towards Rodney, their echoing footsteps the only sound to permeate the uncomfortable silence of the room.
"I'm afraid I cannot let your father enter this merging contest, rat," the figure said. They stopped in front of Rodney, crouching down to his eye level. "Or there will be… well, dire consequences, I fear," the figure said, smiling.
"W-who are you, le ham?" Rodney said, his rotting buck-teeth chattering in his mouth, as much as seven teeth total could chatter.
"Me? Oh, I go by many names, partner. But most call me Dr. A. R. Caneum," the chilling yet oddly Welsh-sounding voice replied. Rodney figuratively and literally shit his entire pants. This was the Dr. A. R. Caneum. The most feared and deadliest Mafia enforcer on both sides of Texas. Dr. Caneum was the leader of the dastardly evil Greek Mafia (named not after the country but instead named based on a non-binding Discord pin in the #writers-desk channel). "Y'see, rat, your daddy is quite the merger. Me and my boys, well, we ain't neva' seen anything like it. That, y'see, is a problem." Dr. Caneum began to pace the room. "I got a whole lotta money on the world's Number Two. She's one helluva merger too, y'see. Name's Erica. Unusually small, mind – much smaller than you and your gross little rat pack, and you ain't much in the ol' height department anyways," the Dr. said with a smile. "If she wins the tournament, me and a lot of people are gonna make, well, let's just say we're gonna be sitting pretty."
"L-listen, Doctor Caneum," Rodney gulped, "m-my father – he has to–" Dr. Caneum spun round, pulling out a magnum revolver and aiming it right at Rodney's bulbous greasy head.
"I couldn't give two shits what your daddy needs, boy," Dr. Caneum barked, "this is your only warning, rat. You get that feeble little rodent you call a father t'pull out, or I'm gonna be comin' back. Trust me, you don't want that. Wouldn't wanna mess that disgusting ol' face ah' yours any more than God already did, huh?" Rodney was sweating more than he had ever sweat before. "Y'understand me, rat?" Dr. Caneum asked, once again crouched down to Rodney's level.
"Y-yes, le ham," Rodney whimpered.
"Good."
Before Rodney could say any more to this convenient expository character, Dr. Caneum's fist had knocked Rodney into oblivion.
As birdsong filled the morning air, Rodney awoke back in his bedroom, the shape of Dr. Caneum's fist still embedded into his repugnant face. Rodney ran downstairs and into the kitchen, finding his father and Unnamed Mother tucking into their morning breakfast from the wall-mounted hamster bottle. "Dad, dad – you have to pull out! You can't enter! The Greek Mafia–" Rodney's father froze.
"W-what did you say, le ham?" he asked, trembling. "The Greek Mafia… No… They have killed every top Farm Merge Valley player in pursuit of that final prize… the world's second smallest Canadian… the green dragon woman… the banana scented feline… they all died, le ham!" he exclaimed, before fleeing the room in fear.
The next week was futile. Rather than be dissuaded from entering, Toddney fell deeper into an obsession-fuelled psychosis. He began trying to merge everything, even in real life. The boundaries between game and reality blurred. He had dedicated everything to this game – he'd put everything on the line. If he didn't win this contest, the banks would surely eat him and his family alive for generations to come. But more so than anything, he knew that for plot conveniences, he simply could not drop out. Rodney tried everything to get his father to see sense, but to no avail. It appeared that the threat on his life had only increased his primal urge to merge.
By the end of the week, Toddney had proudly announced he wouldn't be backing down. His family begged him to change his mind – but he was too far gone. Rodney knew now it was only so long before Dr. Caneum and the Mafia would arrive to execute him and his entire bloodline. He went to bed defeated. This was it. That night, Rodney barely slept. How could he? His entire world was about to be turned upside down.
The next morning, Rodney cautiously came into the kitchen. Toddney was furiously dragging three cheerios together, letting out near-inhuman roars (editor's note – as Toddney, and by extension Rodney, are not human, this makes sense, but for the sake of the story, this is very bad news) as they refused to merge. Rodney's Unnamed Mother approached him a final time, concealing something behind her.
"I won't let you ruin this family, Todd, le ham," Rodney's Unnamed Mother said, as she revealed a knife. "This needs to stop!"
"Quiet, you!" bellowed Toddney, who had lost all sense of sanity. He swung round, pulling out a party popper from his pocket, firing it at Rodney's Unnamed Mother. The devastating impact was so powerful that she was thrown through six walls, leaving increasingly perfect indentations of her large hamster-ous head in each. She landed in the family's notably awfully parked Chrysler Sebring; her last breath expelling a Rodney-shaped cloud into the cold morning air. Much like in Farm Merge Valley, her body then disintegrated into a puddle of ash, leaving behind but a few bronze coins – not a valid currency in any known US bank, so no help to the family's financial woes.
"All I wanted was to merge, le ham," Toddney groveled, dramatically throwing his pitifully small fist into the air. "My whole life has been ruined, le ham!"
"Oh… your whole life, is it?" a mysterious farmer-accented voice queried. Rodney and his father turned to see Dr. A. R. Caneum enter the room, accompanied by their Greek Mafia henchmen. "A'can't let you get to tha' tournament, rodent," Dr. Caneum spat, pulling out a revolver from their jacket. "We gotta a lot of money to win tonight, boy, and all bets are on that Erica."
Toddney stepped forwards to beg for his life, but before he could muster a world, Dr. Caneum's cold stare made one final pierce into Toddney's soul – "Farewell, rat." The gangster shot one single magnum round straight through Toddney's disgusting face, snuffing out his Farm Merge Valley championship dreams once and for all. As he fell to the ground, his last conscious sight – of but a split second – was his Discord client losing connection to the WiFi, and his farm disappearing for the final time.
"Dad, le ham!" Rodney cried out, diving towards his lifeless father, cradling his pathetic little rodent body in his arms. A single tear rolled down his cheek, as his grief swiftly turned to rage. Rodney slowly looked up at Dr. Caneum, every muscle in his body, of which there were few, tensing up. Dr. Caneum smirked, reloading their weapon for dramatic effect. Before they had time to raise their gun, however, Rodney had launched himself across the room, mouth wide as he soared towards Dr. Caneum. The enforcer smirked, ready to swat away the pathetic creature. What A. R. Caneum had not counted on, however, was how many rodent-esque diseases Rodney carried. By most definitions, Rodney was a category-7 bioweapon, capable of spreading enough unknown viral infections to take down a developed nation in under a week. With one swift bite to the leg, Dr. Caneum fell to the floor, writhing in pain as their body became a melting gelatinous blob of blue-furred ooze.
The rest of the Greek Mafia opened fire at Rodney, who without time to think, began scampering away. In a stroke of luck for the rodent, Rodney's oft-forgotten brother, Rodney the Second, walked into the kitchen, stinking of almost two-decade old limited edition World of Warcraft Horde Red flavor Mountain Dew. Unaware of his surroundings, Rodney the Second slipped in A. R. Caneum's goopy puddle, sending his disgusting body hurtling across the room, conveniently managing to be hit by every single bullet that had been fired at Rodney, like some kind of rodent-sponge. Unscathed, Rodney managed to dive out a nearby window, leaving his now swiss-cheesed brother behind.
Out on the streets, Rodney ran for his life, his pathetic little legs carrying him as fast as they possibly could. Turning a corner, he passed a worn-down, near–yellow cladded house, giving him a momentary pause – he recalled a much better story he'd read years prior – before he fell to his knees. Like Benjamin in this superior story, his father was gone. Unlike Benjamin, his entire family was gone. He couldn't let the universe get away with this. He pictured what his father would say to him if he were still here. He knew what he had to do — he had to face his fears, and win the Merging World Championship. Just as he had this third act defining revelation, a huge roar of an engine was heard, and a bright orange car pulled up, driving at speeds far beyond those appropriate for a residential street. The car slammed to a halt.
"Gerrin'!" a bizarrely accented voice barked at Rodney, as the passenger door of the car flew open. Rodney panicked.
"Do you have a booster seat, le ham? I don't meet legal-" Rodney queried, interrupted by a firm hand grabbing him by his rarely washed striped shirt, yanking him inside the car with such force that Rodney was left with a medically diagnosable concussion. Rodney finally saw his savior, and couldn't believe his eyes. "But… you… you're… le ham…" the Rodent was lost for words – his savior was none other than noted Discord sensation James [REDACTED], the last surviving Australian. Of course, Rodney thought – that's why his accent sounded so strange!
"Criheyymayte, ahnewyerrdehd, dahngoeewahr," the Australian shouted, speeding off away from the seemingly endless fleet of pursuing Greek Mafia hearses. "Ihayyn'teertahsahyva, mate, Imeertah'gerreveengefahrrtahowssies," he said with a smirk, removing a small pocket knife from his glove box. Rodney had zero clue what was being said, but knew that this was not good news, and recalled a very brief reference earlier in the story to all Australians being wiped out, surmising perhaps these two developments were linked. Suddenly, seemingly lucid for the first time, James said in perfect the King's English: "You're didgeridead mate," before laughing maniacally. Suddenly, the car hit a catastrophically huge pothole, swerving out of control before being sent soaring up into the air. Rodney, who had defied the law by refusing to put his seat belt on, shot out of the windscreen, flying through the air with such momentum that he soon broke the sound barrier.
Rodney awoke with a start in a motel room. Dazed and confused, he took in his surroundings – before he observed his savior. As it turned out, a fabulously bald man wearing a Jynx t-shirt had found Rodney just outside the city limits. But this man wasn't just any man. No, of course, he was Rodney's number one fan. He owned all the merchandise. The t-shirts. The scarves. The bedsheets. You name it – he had it. The man had sensed that, for plot reasons likely owing to a lack of writing time on the author's part, Rodney needed to make it to the Get Together Crypto Arena in the Bay Area for the Merging World Championship, and in a moment of heroic kindness, had given Rodney a ride. The two shared a knowing look before the man disappeared, mumbling something about an artist named Travis.
With no time to recover, Rodney ran like he never had before, arriving at the Get Together Crypto Arena just in time. Across the room, he locked eyes with Erica – she masked her rage at seeing the rat, already settled down at her Merge Gamer PC. Rodney sat at the PC opposite, nervously eying his bloodthirsty opponent. Erica said something to Rodney in a thick Canadian accent that he didn't understand. He smiled and nodded. And thus, the merging began. For hours, the two engaged in a merge-based battle – merging cows, chickens, pigs, carrots and soy beans in ever growing quantities – until it was time for their final showdown. The audience couldn't believe how quickly the competition had gone, until they realized the impending Small Writing Contest deadline was also mere minutes away.
This was it. Rodney's time for redemption. He began to spam open boxes of unknown items for his final merge. His eyes narrowing to account for his horrifying lack of acceptable eyesight, with his final box, he saw it – he had enough cows to complete the fabled Mega Merge. Sweating more than any mammal had ever excreted before, Rodney closed his eyes, and clicked his mouse, triggering the merge. He couldn't bear to look. After what felt like an eternity, silence fell. Rodney opened his eyes. He couldn't believe it. The world stood still. As the computer lagged to catch up to reality, it was already clear – it had worked. He'd done it. He had made the biggest merge.
The crowd could not believe their eyes. One audience member collapsed, later found to have died of an undiagnosed sinus issue, but in the eyes of Rodney, he'd died of shock at such a merging feat. His blissful moment of victorious bliss was, however, not fated to last. In a blur of noise, the competition's second-place entrant Erica stepped forward, rage in her eyes – in an instant, she fired a single gunshot at Rodney. It completely missed, but hit a nearby glass teleprompter, which sent a maple leaf-shaped piece of glass right into Rodney's abdomen. As chaos erupted, Erica used the chaos to flee; she was never seen again, in part due to her height. Rodney was stepped on upwards of three-hundred times as patrons fled the gaming arena, nobody paying any mind to his pathetic wounded body. The world became a blur.
Rodney faintly recalled a sweet Texan boy dragging him out to a nearby beach, where he now found himself lying atop the sand, staring up at the night sky. It was cold, but something about the crisp night air comforted him. Rodney thought back on all the things he'd missed out on in life – love, companionship, acceptance. He'd never truly made a connection with a woman. He'd never rode a ferris wheel. He never got another letter from his Louisiana-based pen pal. He never did get to visit 2023's worst holiday destination Poopoo Island. But despite these failings, there was contentment, too. He knew deep down he'd captured the hearts of tens – no, dozens – of internet users everywhere.
As Rodney laid dying on the beach, he thought he saw something in the air – some kind of shooting star, perhaps. A guiding light to carry him to heaven. The light of a Lord he was never too sure existed, but remained hopeful of nonetheless. Suddenly, a bizarrely monstrously muscular and juiced-up Zangoose plummeted down, destroying Rodney in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a hamster-scented mist of fur and Oxbow Western Timothy Hay.
All was still.
On a serious note I absolutely ran out of time here and the story did suffer a little - I've rewritten some of the midsection to smooth out some bumpiness along the way and have streamlined a few things just to make it a (hopefully!) more complete and enjoyable read. This story is also absolute complete nonsense and was born out of my temporary obsession with Farm Merge Valley on Discord so if you're not into that then I can only apologise and recommend you read one of the many other fantastic entries from this year's contest. This story contains some violence and profanity but nothing too crazy.
I also shamelessly stole this CSS from Chase but since others have too I'm happy to share the crime.
Rodney's Final Merge
by You-Know-Who
"The more I merge, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing."
– Voltaire
– Voltaire
Long ago, society had reached an impasse. Progress was no longer possible. Technology had stunted – nothing new could be discovered, nothing new could be made. That was, until, someone dared to ask the question: what if, instead of making… we merged? World leaders were in disbelief. Top scientists were flabbergasted that they'd missed something so obvious. Einstein himself rolled in his grave. That one brave man – a genius of his time – was John Zynga. And with his question, he birthed something the likes of which mankind had never seen… Farm Merge Valley.
For a few months, world peace was achieved. Man and woman alike came together, merging their livestock and crops in sweet, tranquil, blissful harmony. The economy recovered to the strongest it had been in years. House prices fell by more than 75%. Even the users of #serious Discord channels everywhere were able to look out the window and see joy where they used to see nihilistic misery. But sadly, that wasn't to last.
Many lives were ruined by this game – and one of those lives belonged to a small blue hamster named Rodney. One fateful afternoon, Rodney discovered the joys of Farm Merge Valley. He was enthralled – he couldn't believe the hours of fun he was having merging together farmyard animals. But that enthrallment soon turned to addiction. Rodney lost hours of sleep to this game. He had no wife to lose, but he would have lost her too. Eventually, Rodney was among the top 1% of players. He even made it to the Merging World Championships, where he made it to the final round. Everything was pointing to a total victory for the rotund rodent. Nothing could stand in his way. Or so he thought.
Rodney lost the tournament at the final hurdle. His final merge failed – he realized too late that, due to his horrendously subpar eyesight, he had tried to merge a mixture of stage one cows and stage one goats. He was a fool. He was the fool. It took Rodney years to overcome the depression he fell into. His therapist had suggested he make guest appearances in the highly popular Animal Crossing video game franchise, as a way of restoring his zest for life — and while Rodney still hated himself for numerous other and perfectly understandable reasons, he did finally shed the shame that had come with his failure. Rodney hadn't touched Farm Merge Valley in almost fifteen years. Rodney had long shaken his merging addiction. But the same couldn't be said for his father – Toddney.
Toddney was once a normal hamster, living a comparatively normal life with his Unnamed Wife and his son, Rodney. That was, of course, until he was drafted into a revived instance of the MKUltra experimentations. After the initial programme completed its goal – making all Australians forget where they're from – its senior operatives realized they still had significant funding leftover, and began a series of new sick and twisted programmes of experimentation. Toddney came away from the programme 25 pounds lighter and buccal fat free, but with the small caveat that he was now labored with a crippling merge game addiction.
His downfall began when he first laid eyes upon the Merge Mansion grandma. He was infatuated with this irresistible woman – her devious schemes enticed him, igniting a spark Toddney hadn't felt in years. Merge Mansion led to Seaside Escape; Seaside Escape led to DesignVille; DesignVille led to Merge Sweets. But the worst came when Toddney was on a Discord call with one of his many "e-Kittens". After a misclick, he discovered a game you could play inside the Discord app. A game he had sworn never to touch after what it had done to his son. Farm Merge Valley.
It only took days for Toddney to have sunk his entire life savings into the game. He sold off his parent's home to fund further purchases of premium in-game currency gems. He burned through Rodney's Animal Crossing royalties in a matter of weeks. The game had, to put it lightly, ruined Toddney's life. Rodney was furious – his money was gone, his father was a loser, and now he was constantly reminded of his biggest failure. Every night, Rodney was kept awake by the never-ending sounds of incessant mouse clicks and worn-down keyboard presses. The shrieks of laughter as a lucky merge five bonus was achieved. The sobs as Toddney maxed out another credit card on yet another farm expansion. One night, Rodney had enough. He stormed into his father's swampy bedroom and demanded he never play the game again.
"B-but son, le ham," Toddney stammered, glancing back and forth between his chubby revolting son and the progress on his bakery expansion, "I-I can't just stop! I'm in too deep… the money – our money! I can't let it go to waste, le ham!"
"What about our family, le ham," Rodney bellowed, grabbing his pathetic father by the scruff of his neck, "what about us? You're tearing us apart! Our money – it's all gone, le ham!" Rodney put his father down, letting out an exasperated sigh, pacing the room with his tiny diminutive legs.
"I h-have… I have an idea, son, le ham," Toddney said, his lip quivering. "You see, there's this competition of sorts – a-a, a tournament –" before Toddney could finish his sentence, Rodney had gone feral, sharp teeth shooting out of his jaws like some kind of freakish X-Man knockoff. MMost veterinary professionals wouldn't have hesitated to euthanize him on the spot. Toddney jumped back, agasp.
"That tournament ruined my life, le ham!" the rodent screamed, in disbelief at the audacity of his father to want to enter. But deep down, Rodney knew he was right. There was no other way that they could win back all that money unless they entered this year's Merging World Championship at the PokéCommunity Get Together Crypto Arena. Defeated, he retracted his teeth, and meekly glanced at his father. "Just don't mess it up like I did, le ham."
A defeated Rodney returned to his room, noticing his highly valuable Funko Pop Vinyl collection had been tampered with. Suddenly, a bag was thrown over his head.
- - - - -
Rodney's disgusting little bloodshot eyes slowly began to squint open. He had been taken somewhere – a warehouse, perhaps. In front of him was a fully functional road legal Little Tykes hybrid diesel-electric car. The license plate read "A7CN3M". Beyond the car, a figure emerged. The shadowy silhouette slowly paced towards Rodney, their echoing footsteps the only sound to permeate the uncomfortable silence of the room.
"I'm afraid I cannot let your father enter this merging contest, rat," the figure said. They stopped in front of Rodney, crouching down to his eye level. "Or there will be… well, dire consequences, I fear," the figure said, smiling.
"W-who are you, le ham?" Rodney said, his rotting buck-teeth chattering in his mouth, as much as seven teeth total could chatter.
"Me? Oh, I go by many names, partner. But most call me Dr. A. R. Caneum," the chilling yet oddly Welsh-sounding voice replied. Rodney figuratively and literally shit his entire pants. This was the Dr. A. R. Caneum. The most feared and deadliest Mafia enforcer on both sides of Texas. Dr. Caneum was the leader of the dastardly evil Greek Mafia (named not after the country but instead named based on a non-binding Discord pin in the #writers-desk channel). "Y'see, rat, your daddy is quite the merger. Me and my boys, well, we ain't neva' seen anything like it. That, y'see, is a problem." Dr. Caneum began to pace the room. "I got a whole lotta money on the world's Number Two. She's one helluva merger too, y'see. Name's Erica. Unusually small, mind – much smaller than you and your gross little rat pack, and you ain't much in the ol' height department anyways," the Dr. said with a smile. "If she wins the tournament, me and a lot of people are gonna make, well, let's just say we're gonna be sitting pretty."
"L-listen, Doctor Caneum," Rodney gulped, "m-my father – he has to–" Dr. Caneum spun round, pulling out a magnum revolver and aiming it right at Rodney's bulbous greasy head.
"I couldn't give two shits what your daddy needs, boy," Dr. Caneum barked, "this is your only warning, rat. You get that feeble little rodent you call a father t'pull out, or I'm gonna be comin' back. Trust me, you don't want that. Wouldn't wanna mess that disgusting ol' face ah' yours any more than God already did, huh?" Rodney was sweating more than he had ever sweat before. "Y'understand me, rat?" Dr. Caneum asked, once again crouched down to Rodney's level.
"Y-yes, le ham," Rodney whimpered.
"Good."
Before Rodney could say any more to this convenient expository character, Dr. Caneum's fist had knocked Rodney into oblivion.
- - - - -
As birdsong filled the morning air, Rodney awoke back in his bedroom, the shape of Dr. Caneum's fist still embedded into his repugnant face. Rodney ran downstairs and into the kitchen, finding his father and Unnamed Mother tucking into their morning breakfast from the wall-mounted hamster bottle. "Dad, dad – you have to pull out! You can't enter! The Greek Mafia–" Rodney's father froze.
"W-what did you say, le ham?" he asked, trembling. "The Greek Mafia… No… They have killed every top Farm Merge Valley player in pursuit of that final prize… the world's second smallest Canadian… the green dragon woman… the banana scented feline… they all died, le ham!" he exclaimed, before fleeing the room in fear.
The next week was futile. Rather than be dissuaded from entering, Toddney fell deeper into an obsession-fuelled psychosis. He began trying to merge everything, even in real life. The boundaries between game and reality blurred. He had dedicated everything to this game – he'd put everything on the line. If he didn't win this contest, the banks would surely eat him and his family alive for generations to come. But more so than anything, he knew that for plot conveniences, he simply could not drop out. Rodney tried everything to get his father to see sense, but to no avail. It appeared that the threat on his life had only increased his primal urge to merge.
By the end of the week, Toddney had proudly announced he wouldn't be backing down. His family begged him to change his mind – but he was too far gone. Rodney knew now it was only so long before Dr. Caneum and the Mafia would arrive to execute him and his entire bloodline. He went to bed defeated. This was it. That night, Rodney barely slept. How could he? His entire world was about to be turned upside down.
- - - - -
The next morning, Rodney cautiously came into the kitchen. Toddney was furiously dragging three cheerios together, letting out near-inhuman roars (editor's note – as Toddney, and by extension Rodney, are not human, this makes sense, but for the sake of the story, this is very bad news) as they refused to merge. Rodney's Unnamed Mother approached him a final time, concealing something behind her.
"I won't let you ruin this family, Todd, le ham," Rodney's Unnamed Mother said, as she revealed a knife. "This needs to stop!"
"Quiet, you!" bellowed Toddney, who had lost all sense of sanity. He swung round, pulling out a party popper from his pocket, firing it at Rodney's Unnamed Mother. The devastating impact was so powerful that she was thrown through six walls, leaving increasingly perfect indentations of her large hamster-ous head in each. She landed in the family's notably awfully parked Chrysler Sebring; her last breath expelling a Rodney-shaped cloud into the cold morning air. Much like in Farm Merge Valley, her body then disintegrated into a puddle of ash, leaving behind but a few bronze coins – not a valid currency in any known US bank, so no help to the family's financial woes.
"All I wanted was to merge, le ham," Toddney groveled, dramatically throwing his pitifully small fist into the air. "My whole life has been ruined, le ham!"
"Oh… your whole life, is it?" a mysterious farmer-accented voice queried. Rodney and his father turned to see Dr. A. R. Caneum enter the room, accompanied by their Greek Mafia henchmen. "A'can't let you get to tha' tournament, rodent," Dr. Caneum spat, pulling out a revolver from their jacket. "We gotta a lot of money to win tonight, boy, and all bets are on that Erica."
Toddney stepped forwards to beg for his life, but before he could muster a world, Dr. Caneum's cold stare made one final pierce into Toddney's soul – "Farewell, rat." The gangster shot one single magnum round straight through Toddney's disgusting face, snuffing out his Farm Merge Valley championship dreams once and for all. As he fell to the ground, his last conscious sight – of but a split second – was his Discord client losing connection to the WiFi, and his farm disappearing for the final time.
"Dad, le ham!" Rodney cried out, diving towards his lifeless father, cradling his pathetic little rodent body in his arms. A single tear rolled down his cheek, as his grief swiftly turned to rage. Rodney slowly looked up at Dr. Caneum, every muscle in his body, of which there were few, tensing up. Dr. Caneum smirked, reloading their weapon for dramatic effect. Before they had time to raise their gun, however, Rodney had launched himself across the room, mouth wide as he soared towards Dr. Caneum. The enforcer smirked, ready to swat away the pathetic creature. What A. R. Caneum had not counted on, however, was how many rodent-esque diseases Rodney carried. By most definitions, Rodney was a category-7 bioweapon, capable of spreading enough unknown viral infections to take down a developed nation in under a week. With one swift bite to the leg, Dr. Caneum fell to the floor, writhing in pain as their body became a melting gelatinous blob of blue-furred ooze.
The rest of the Greek Mafia opened fire at Rodney, who without time to think, began scampering away. In a stroke of luck for the rodent, Rodney's oft-forgotten brother, Rodney the Second, walked into the kitchen, stinking of almost two-decade old limited edition World of Warcraft Horde Red flavor Mountain Dew. Unaware of his surroundings, Rodney the Second slipped in A. R. Caneum's goopy puddle, sending his disgusting body hurtling across the room, conveniently managing to be hit by every single bullet that had been fired at Rodney, like some kind of rodent-sponge. Unscathed, Rodney managed to dive out a nearby window, leaving his now swiss-cheesed brother behind.
Out on the streets, Rodney ran for his life, his pathetic little legs carrying him as fast as they possibly could. Turning a corner, he passed a worn-down, near–yellow cladded house, giving him a momentary pause – he recalled a much better story he'd read years prior – before he fell to his knees. Like Benjamin in this superior story, his father was gone. Unlike Benjamin, his entire family was gone. He couldn't let the universe get away with this. He pictured what his father would say to him if he were still here. He knew what he had to do — he had to face his fears, and win the Merging World Championship. Just as he had this third act defining revelation, a huge roar of an engine was heard, and a bright orange car pulled up, driving at speeds far beyond those appropriate for a residential street. The car slammed to a halt.
"Gerrin'!" a bizarrely accented voice barked at Rodney, as the passenger door of the car flew open. Rodney panicked.
"Do you have a booster seat, le ham? I don't meet legal-" Rodney queried, interrupted by a firm hand grabbing him by his rarely washed striped shirt, yanking him inside the car with such force that Rodney was left with a medically diagnosable concussion. Rodney finally saw his savior, and couldn't believe his eyes. "But… you… you're… le ham…" the Rodent was lost for words – his savior was none other than noted Discord sensation James [REDACTED], the last surviving Australian. Of course, Rodney thought – that's why his accent sounded so strange!
"Criheyymayte, ahnewyerrdehd, dahngoeewahr," the Australian shouted, speeding off away from the seemingly endless fleet of pursuing Greek Mafia hearses. "Ihayyn'teertahsahyva, mate, Imeertah'gerreveengefahrrtahowssies," he said with a smirk, removing a small pocket knife from his glove box. Rodney had zero clue what was being said, but knew that this was not good news, and recalled a very brief reference earlier in the story to all Australians being wiped out, surmising perhaps these two developments were linked. Suddenly, seemingly lucid for the first time, James said in perfect the King's English: "You're didgeridead mate," before laughing maniacally. Suddenly, the car hit a catastrophically huge pothole, swerving out of control before being sent soaring up into the air. Rodney, who had defied the law by refusing to put his seat belt on, shot out of the windscreen, flying through the air with such momentum that he soon broke the sound barrier.
- - - - -
Rodney awoke with a start in a motel room. Dazed and confused, he took in his surroundings – before he observed his savior. As it turned out, a fabulously bald man wearing a Jynx t-shirt had found Rodney just outside the city limits. But this man wasn't just any man. No, of course, he was Rodney's number one fan. He owned all the merchandise. The t-shirts. The scarves. The bedsheets. You name it – he had it. The man had sensed that, for plot reasons likely owing to a lack of writing time on the author's part, Rodney needed to make it to the Get Together Crypto Arena in the Bay Area for the Merging World Championship, and in a moment of heroic kindness, had given Rodney a ride. The two shared a knowing look before the man disappeared, mumbling something about an artist named Travis.
With no time to recover, Rodney ran like he never had before, arriving at the Get Together Crypto Arena just in time. Across the room, he locked eyes with Erica – she masked her rage at seeing the rat, already settled down at her Merge Gamer PC. Rodney sat at the PC opposite, nervously eying his bloodthirsty opponent. Erica said something to Rodney in a thick Canadian accent that he didn't understand. He smiled and nodded. And thus, the merging began. For hours, the two engaged in a merge-based battle – merging cows, chickens, pigs, carrots and soy beans in ever growing quantities – until it was time for their final showdown. The audience couldn't believe how quickly the competition had gone, until they realized the impending Small Writing Contest deadline was also mere minutes away.
This was it. Rodney's time for redemption. He began to spam open boxes of unknown items for his final merge. His eyes narrowing to account for his horrifying lack of acceptable eyesight, with his final box, he saw it – he had enough cows to complete the fabled Mega Merge. Sweating more than any mammal had ever excreted before, Rodney closed his eyes, and clicked his mouse, triggering the merge. He couldn't bear to look. After what felt like an eternity, silence fell. Rodney opened his eyes. He couldn't believe it. The world stood still. As the computer lagged to catch up to reality, it was already clear – it had worked. He'd done it. He had made the biggest merge.
The crowd could not believe their eyes. One audience member collapsed, later found to have died of an undiagnosed sinus issue, but in the eyes of Rodney, he'd died of shock at such a merging feat. His blissful moment of victorious bliss was, however, not fated to last. In a blur of noise, the competition's second-place entrant Erica stepped forward, rage in her eyes – in an instant, she fired a single gunshot at Rodney. It completely missed, but hit a nearby glass teleprompter, which sent a maple leaf-shaped piece of glass right into Rodney's abdomen. As chaos erupted, Erica used the chaos to flee; she was never seen again, in part due to her height. Rodney was stepped on upwards of three-hundred times as patrons fled the gaming arena, nobody paying any mind to his pathetic wounded body. The world became a blur.
Rodney faintly recalled a sweet Texan boy dragging him out to a nearby beach, where he now found himself lying atop the sand, staring up at the night sky. It was cold, but something about the crisp night air comforted him. Rodney thought back on all the things he'd missed out on in life – love, companionship, acceptance. He'd never truly made a connection with a woman. He'd never rode a ferris wheel. He never got another letter from his Louisiana-based pen pal. He never did get to visit 2023's worst holiday destination Poopoo Island. But despite these failings, there was contentment, too. He knew deep down he'd captured the hearts of tens – no, dozens – of internet users everywhere.
As Rodney laid dying on the beach, he thought he saw something in the air – some kind of shooting star, perhaps. A guiding light to carry him to heaven. The light of a Lord he was never too sure existed, but remained hopeful of nonetheless. Suddenly, a bizarrely monstrously muscular and juiced-up Zangoose plummeted down, destroying Rodney in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a hamster-scented mist of fur and Oxbow Western Timothy Hay.
All was still.
