Exception Aftermath 3



The bright white flash was unexpected, as was the clanging noise that echoed through my brain. The electrical jolts that ran through my crotch were completely expected, they were a byproduct of the new weapon I was working on. Everything was dark, my suit dead, my senses quiet to anything technological. I couldn’t even feel the nanites. Is this death? Erstwhile audience, if I have in fact finally killed myself, it could not be with any weapon grander than every bit of porn on the internet downloaded at once!

Feeling started to return. Whooshing, a nice whooshing sound. Wind, I think I’ll call it wind, that’s a nice name. Louder noises began seeping in at the edges of my hearing, a ghostly voice that was… almost familiar.


“I would not, could not, with a goat!” I screamed back at the void. At least, not again, not that the whistling void around me needed to know that.

“BAAAAHHH snort.”

“He says he doesn’t believe you.”

I ripped my eyes open, only now feeling that I HAD eyes. Something was wrong with the way they opened, but I couldn’t place it. The world around me was still grey, but I could see rings of lighter and darker grey, swooping past me in an appearance of motion, like I was going through a tunnel. I still couldn’t feel limbs, weapons. I felt like I was hurtling naked through the void, which is usually a pretty good party, but this time was different.

“Who’s there?” I admit, not my wittiest of lines, but I thought I was rolling pretty well with the punches.

“BAAAAAAA.” There, on the edges of my vision, a fuzzy figure, no, two of them. Dancing around me through the grey mists, four legged figures. With horns.

“Trying to get my goat? Won’t work.” That’s right Gecko, taunt the spinning dancing figures. Any minute now one of them will be riding a broom, screeching about my pretty dog. Well, it IS pretty big, but that’s besides the point.

“No, but you can get mine any time, rawr. Just find me when the Old Goat isn’t around. You’ll love the way I nibble!”

Woo, party over here. Something was… familiar about her voice though. And the goaty silhouettes around me. But just as it started to hit me, it hit me. The ground that is. You could say I hit it, but I was the one floating in the void, a free standing heavenly body of a heavenly body, so I prefer to say that the ground hit me.

I could feel all my limbs again, but it wasn’t an improvement. Everything hurt, and nothing was in the right place. A strange sound filled the air, like a combination of a whistle and a xylophone being played by a muppet on speed. Now that’s my kind of musical instrument, all banging and blowing. I stood, bracing on my wrists as I pushed up. I discovered, looking at my hands, that this was because the most solid thing about me was the metal bands around my wrists, a thin metal rod leading from each to the ground. I waved my arms about, and felt pressure as the rods drove my arms in circles, my actual muscles floppy and useless. My armor was made of painted cardboard, which is why I couldn’t interact with it. I hated being anyone’s puppet, but at least there wasn’t a hand up my ass. Well, without a dab of crisco first.


The source of the musical interlude stood in front of me, in all its crimson and yellow glory. Large as life, red roof and yellow seats, NEIGHBORHOOD TROLLEY painted across the sign on it’s top. It darted back and forth a few feet, clanging and whooting. No, it… it couldn’t be.

“Timmy fell out of the well? Push him back in boy!”

He clanged at me again, and sounded hurt. Damn me, but that trolley actually made me feel bad for being my usual effervescent self.

“Sorry Trolley. I assume you want me to get in you? Deep, deep in you?”

The trolley backed up, clanging uncertainly, then came back forward. I hopped up, and marveled at the iron rods around my wrists, looking at any time like they were embedded in the ground, but moving through it as if it, or they, weren’t there. Either the jolt of the internet had me hallucinating, or someone was going WAY too far for a gag. I mean, for a good gag, they have to look no farther than my crotch.

The trolley started immediately, clanging and tooting. I enjoyed the view, looking around the Neighborhood. I know what you’re thinking! A Psycho Gecko, is up to no good, gonna start making trouble in the Neighborhood. He started one little fight and Mr. Rogers got scared. Not happening. You know why? Cause twelve days ago was March 20th. Mr. Rogers’ birthday. I’m not saying I won’t KILL anyone, that was two weeks ago, but I’m not going to start it.


That was a weird noise. The Trolley stopped as a big ball of fuzz crashed to the ground in front of us and rolled off to the side. I looked up and saw purple feathers, white fur, and a BIIIIIG red nose. Up in a tree, Lady Elaine and Henrietta Pussycat were balancing X the owl on his head.

“Hey there X! Something from the OCS, I take it?”

They looked down at me, and X tumbled back to his feet. “Well how the hell you doin’ new neighbor! OCS? I take lessons from the COCS! Cool Owl Correspondence School. But no, I’m taking a page from the great Benjamin Franklin. He had a couple of French whores help him piss, for prostate pain. I figured, pissing, coughing up pellets.”

“X! Language!”

“Well, I’m jawing in English, what the fuck language you speaking, friend? Now, between you and me, I couldn’t find any whores. These two sluts give it away for free.”

The crudity was… I should be reveling in this. This is my kind of place. But seeing the Neighborhood perverted was… perverse.

“I uhh, I mean… Pellets hunh? What were you eating?”

“Rats, mostly. Though in a little bit, I’ll be eating me some pussy.” He nudged Henrietta, winking, and I felt a bit sick. Henrietta hung to one wing, and leaned towards me conspiratorially.

“He doesn’t have much of a tongue, meow meow, but have you seen the beak on that bird? MEOWW meow.”

“Is that any way to be talking in front of a Lady?” It was a lame line, but I was flustered, fuck you.

Elaine laughed. “Lady? You better not be talking about me toots. If you make it back around after seeing King Friday, I’ll show you MY nasty surprise, mister.”

Trolley started to move forward, and I saw some numbers on X’s tree. Roamin’ numbers, just right for a roamin’ train. IIIIV Forty Five? If this continued, I’d be ready to put one in my brain. Speaking of brain… she said Nasty Surprise. I quickly flexed my own, only to see a small feather pop out instead of a blade. Kinky. More and more this seemed like a set up.

Trolley clanged around and quickly the castle came into view.

“Why hello Trolley, welcome. Have you brought me more bitches?”

King Friday called down from the tower. Trolley clanged in the negative, and I looked out.

“Good morning your majesty!”

“OH! A new visitor. Allow me to introduce myself.” The King fluffed himself up, and I noticed some shining spikes waving back and forth just barely poking over the parapets. Parapets? I never see just two. And they don’t eat anything, or play fetch. Anyways, several trumpets blared and then he burst into, well, I hesitate to call it song, but it had notes and rhythm.

“I’m King Friday, Friday, all the bitches go down on Friday. I’m always looking forward to the sucking, fucking, Friday, Friday, you better be getting down on Friday! I want fellatio and analingus, from front to back my needs are vicious, I’m rude, I’m crude, horny and lascivious, Friday, Friday, all you bitches go down on Friday.”

With that, he shuddered, moaned, and left. Queen Sara stood up, wiping her face. “Ugh, the wrinkled old prune is gone. Must be three twenty finally.”

I looked at the clock tower, and sure enough, the big hand was on the four and the little hand on the three.

“So big boy, why don’t you come up and see me sometime?”

“Err, uhh, I’d love too, but, you already have King Friday.”

She leaned over the tower, showing me her… royal endowments. “Yes, but I could always uses a Mr. Thursday. Or a Miss Wednesday, if you know anyone.”

“Right… trolley, get out of here.”

It bothered me on a deeper level than I’d care to admit. Normally I’m all for perverting and changing, but… this is Mr. Rogers. You don’t fuck with the neighborhood of make believe. When I found the person responsible… Well, the place was going to get even dirtier.

He clanged again, like he was laughing, and trolleyed along. We passed several more Neighbors, old goat and new goat going at it like, well, goats. Daniel Tiger (senior, you perverts, this was very much the original timeframe, and not that new abomination) was getting his stripes put back on from a large leather cat of nine tails, swung by the cat of one tail, Henrietta. None of the “humans” appeared, thank all that is dark and perverted. Finally, we trundled into a large clearing, heading back towards where we started, and I called out. “Stop Trolley.”

He came to a confused stop, and I jumped off. “Okay you bastard, I’ve had enough, you can drop the charade.”

He clanged and whooted, and started to… change. Beams and panels arranged themselves and in moments, he stood two stories above me. Two giant brass bells hung in his crotch, clanging as he moved. A giant air whistle stood up from between them, whooting and tooting with steam shooting out. The Neighborhood Trolley sign wrapped around him, the words simply the numbers 34 over and over again.

“You tire of this land so soon, Gecko?” His voice boomed and burned in my mind.

“Who are you?”

“I am your creation, and your undoing! Your dark deeds have created me.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, I’ve done a lot of dark deeds.” I actually already had an idea, based on the repeated theme of the number thirty four that I had just noticed had followed me on this narrative, but I let the villain monologue. The… other villain.

“You tried to download all the porn on the internet at once in order to create a virus that would overwhelm and destroy AIs. Thus you created me, The Rule Of Thirty Four! FEAST ON THE PERVERSION.”

I fell to my knees (not like that you dirty readers) under waves of sexualized purity. Charlie Brown doing femdom with Patty, the Scooby Doo villain in a gimp mask, you don’t even what to know what the Sesame Street was up to. Eventually, I resisted, and stood again.

“Stupid program. You may have all the perversion of this world’s internet, but I’ve dealt with a hundred worlds of filth. (Literally. Lovely little system near Andromeda. A hundred planetoids each catering to a different perversion. Great vacation spot. Bring the kids! Keep them away from 4, 7, and 17 though.)

He reached for me, ready to squash the puppet that was my body. “Wait! You are not alone! You have a brother!”

“A… brother?”

“Yes, the porn project was one of two. Activate Project Creepy Pasta!”

The lights dimmed, and a mass of tentacles made out of spaghetti coalesced. It reached out and touched 34 with its noodley appendage, and he screamed.


He collapsed in a heap, blood, at least, I hope it was blood, pouring from his eyes and ears. The world vanished and reality came back to me. I unplugged the cat five from my crotch, and got to work cleaning up. I’m going to end this post now, as I’m planning a four way with a Lady, a Queen, and a Pussycat.




The crazy, zany, and completely NOT CANON! interlude you’ve just read is part of the Serial Fiction April Fool’s Day Swap, 2015 Edition. The mindblowing gag post(and this blurb) you’ve just read was written by Alexander Hollins, who is currently on hiatus from writing, though he is working on a few stories for http://www.requirecookie.com . It was supposed to be written by Underwhelming Force at https://shinynewjustice.wordpress.com/ , but wasn’t given his assignment due to a typo by Alexander. Alexander has been flogged in a way he won’t enjoy, and promises to be very very careful in the future.

Psycho Gecko , who normally writes this story, was assigned to write for Unillustrated at https://unillustrated.wordpress.com/ .

For a full list of all our April Fool’s Swappers and their stories, as well as dozens of other serial novels that will tickle your fancy, check out The Web Fiction Guide at

Thanks for reading and remember, the best way to support your favorite serial novelist is to tell all your friends about them.

2 thoughts on “Exception Aftermath 3

  1. Pingback: Exception Aftermath 2 | World Domination in Retrospect

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