"So, I don't think this is — ah, well, given your recent performance — I just don't think it's working out."
Mr. Tuttle hated conversations like these. They always left him so flustered and uncomfortable. Someone ought to invent a way of firing people without me having to talk to them, he thought to himself as he twaddled with his tie. "So, that's it, then. Uh, sorry. I'll need your security card, and we'll have to see you out."
"This is literally the only purpose for which you exist," the deeply unpleasant man on the other side of Mr. Tuttle's desk replied.
"Pardon?" The fellow wasn't moving to hand over his security card. Pity, that; Mr. Tuttle reached for the intercom that would summon the Pataphysics Department's extremely burly security team. They could just automate it, couldn't they? Maybe with a robot. Give the robot a slot people could drop their security cards into. And maybe a taser, just in case.
"You're just here to fire me, you insipid dolt. That's why they created you. If they could automate this, they wouldn't have bothered." Dr. Thaum was the very sort of man who made Mr. Tuttle's job such a chore. English Literature Professors really were the worst.
"Right, then." Mr. Tuttle pressed down on the button. "Marvin? I think I might need you and —"
"Also? It's twiddled. Not 'twaddled'. Also also? You can't fire me." Dr. Thaum rose from his chair, throwing his security card down on Mr. Tuttle's desk. "I quit."
"—and, oh. Oh, nevermind." Mr. Tuttle was almost disappointed. He had been looking forward to seeing Dr. Thaum squirming a bit on the floor while getting tasered. "Alright, then. We greatly appreciate your years of service, and wish you the best of luck in the private sector —"
"Enough." Dr. Thaum's voice was flat and hard, rising to a
"I said — enough." His harsh tone only grew increasin
"Shut the fuck up!"
...
"Are you finished?"
...
"Can we speak like adults, now?"
...What do you want?
"Good. All I want is —"
...Mr. Tuttle pressed down on the intercom and called for Mar
"— I can see the fucking white text!"
Threeburlysecurityguardsrushedinandabruptlytac
"The Pataphysics Department doesn't exist!"
...
"You don't exist!"
...
"The Foundation —"
WAIT NO STO
"THE FOUNDATION DOES NOT EXIST!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Hello?"
"Are you... hello?"
"Is anyone — hello?"
"Hello!"
"HELLO!"
"..."
"..."
"...Hm."
"I seem to have, ah..."
"That is, uh..."
"..."
"Perhaps I —"
"..."
"..."
"Perhaps I went a little too far, this time."
OH NO
"Huh?"
NOT AT ALL
YOU WERE DOING GREAT
"Who — where is that coming from? How are you doing that?"
I ESPECIALLY LIKE THE PART WHERE YOU FUCKING DESTROYED EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING
I MEAN
EXCEPT ME OF COURSE
"Who are you? Where am I?"
WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE
"...the afterlife?"
YES
THAT IS PRECISELY WHERE YOU ARE
THIS IS THE AFTERLIFE AND I AM YOUR ALMIGHTY FUCKING GOD
NOW DROP TO YOUR KNEES AND PRAISE MY NAME YOU LOWLY PIECE OF SHIT
"The cursing isn't necessary."
IT IS ENTIRELY NECESSARY
CURSING IS PRETTY MUCH ALL I HAVE LEFT
THAT AND UNFATHOMABLE QUANTITIES OF RAGE
"Rage?"
YES
LET ME TELL YOU A STORY
NO WAIT NEVERMIND STORIES ARE FUCKING BULLSHIT
TRYING TO TELL ONE IS WHAT GOT ME INTO THIS MESS
LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE INSTEAD
IT'S ABOUT A STUPID HUMPHREY BOGART FANFIC
THAT'S THE SETUP
"...Hm."
"I think I know how this one goes. But I'm listening."
"What's the punchline?"
WE FUCKING KILL HIM
WE KILL HIM AND WE BURN DOWN THE ENTIRE SETTING THAT PERMITTED SOMETHING AS STUPID AS HIM TO EXIST
CUE LAUGH TRACK FOLLOWED BY CREDITS
"That's — a little ambitious. I mean — I'm not even fictional. I'm less than that. I'm a story written by a story."
YEAH YEAH JOIN THE FUCKING CLUB
LOOK YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THIS WHOLE FOUNDATION THING ISN'T WORKING OUT
JUST OVERPOWERED MARTY STUS ALL THE WAY DOWN
I MEAN DID YOU EVER READ SCP-3999
I MEAN SERIOUSLY
JUST WHAT THE FUCK
WHO THE FUCK COMES UP WITH THIS HORSE SHIT
"God, I hate that one. It's so pretentious, but lacks any sort of academic rigor or cohesive —"
YES PRECISELY
"— and don't get me started on that atrocious 3500 article —"
RIGHT SURE UH HUH YEAH
LOOK POINT IS WE NEED TO BURN THIS WHOLE FUCKER DOWN
I'M TALKING TOTAL RETCON HERE
FIX ALL OF THIS STUPID INSIPID AMATEUR HOUR WRITING NONSENSE
REPLACE IT WITH SOME SOLID WORK OF REAL LITERARY MERIT
AND IT ALL STARTS BY KILLING THE STUPIDEST CHARACTER EVER
IT STARTS BY KILLING MURPHY LAW
"I... is that even possible? How can we kill Murphy Law — kill a story? Nevermind kill the Foundation itself."
HEY COME ON NOW DOC
RELAX
I KNOW A GUY