It happened one morning–a God of Destruction with a thirst for rare and unusual urethras ate all of the frozen chinpou in Universe 6. Chinpou was a type of candy allegedly, though the Chinese characters for it being “rare” and “Chinese spear” seem rather apt. My good friend tien dominic owns a rare Chinese spear of his own but it’s lost in a dark, coarse forest right now. I feel pretty bad for it not gonna lie.
“Zeno loves chinpou!” Champa whined, pacing before his brother nervously. “He threatened to destroy my universe if I don’t find him some by some time in the future that is both convenient for a story and not entirely reasonable for me to remain calm!”
“Why don’t you calm down, Champa? Your belly is swinging all over the place and it nearly hit my brother,” Vados cautioned him.
His brother looked like he was sleeping until he opened one eye and made a very rude look at his brother who was also a purple cat. Like what the fuck tori you high as shit. “Let me guess, you want me to find some chinpou for you, is that right?”
“I don’t have any stamina. You know that, Vados knows that, even my lunch lady knows it,” Champa said, waving his hands in the air. “C’mon Beerus, it’s my birthday today.”
“It is also my birthday; the manga already made that joke,” his brother, the other hairless puse, growled.
“Lord Beerus, I love chinpou myself,” Whis interjected.
“I would never have suspected that of you, Whis.”
Vados winked and made a peace sign. “Hey, don’t forget me!”
“It’s normal for you to like chinpou, however,” Whis said, humming to himself. “I thought our father was the most powerful being in the multiverse aside from Zeno-sama. How could he screw up so bad?”
“Daddy never makes a mistake, especially not behind the dumpster after Korn’s slam poetry rehearsal that he never invited you to. He’s a good daddy, the best daddy, a beautiful daddy!”
“So, ya gonna go, Beerus?” Champa asked quickly. “I need to get back home, it’s almost time for elevensies.”
“If you ate all of the chinpou in your universe, then you’re out of luck. That’s the only place you can find it.”
“Actually, not true!” Whis jumped in front of Beerus and Champa, doing a little pirouette. You can tell most of the time just by how someone moves if they’re a giver or a taker, a talker or a choker, a biologically nonsensical existence or a plain normal one (like we all should be). There’s also semis but who wants that shit in their life? “For the sake of making this an interesting story, I should let the both of you know that a while back, a closeted Homunculus by the name of IM Baetta would occasionally visit Universe 6 in order to procure chinpou sweets for his sweet baby Pissboy. He is native to Universe 8, so I’m sure if you visit him there and ask him nicely, he’ll give you his chinpou, and once Vados sees a chinpou she can infinitely duplicate it as she has done many times in the past.”
Vados is pretty hot, although it’s a damn shame that her bean is no sausage. “Whis, shush. Those were private.”
Beerus yawned. “Why don’t you go, Whis? I think I’ll take a nap.”
“You can’t take a nap!” screamed Champa, who slapped Beerus out of his chair like a space pimp who just done went broke. “It’s my birthday, I’m a birthday boy!” Champa proclaimed.
“I had a lucid dream last night where old man turtle with the sunglasses and the strange tendencies to shoot fountains of blood from his nose dove deep inside me,” Vados interjected.
“Oh dreadful, that reminds me, I am going to eat four skins of space jagaimo right now,” Whis said quickly, but he only ate three of them, as one fell on the ground, and once it touches the ground, that’s game over man. “Oooh, Lord Beerus! Lord Beerus, now!”
“Hmph. Hakai.” He raised a paw and fired a huge blast at the ground, decimating half of his planet without so much as trying.
Suddenly, time was rewound, only they kept their memories so it was like if Nelson Mandela had actually fucked that prostitute in the back of his brother’s car.
“In English, Lord Beerus.”
“Fine, fine. Destroy.”
Again, half of the planet was wiped out, but Lord Beerus didn’t mind because if he did mind, he had just fucked up big time. It’s never cool to look like an idiot in front of your portly little brother. Whether they be known as tub o’ lard, or the late-night chinpou-whistler, it’s all the same really.
“My, my Lord Beerus, your barbs are long and sharp and look ever so scrumptious,” Whis whispered sensuously. “Good kitty, good. Kitty could be my dildo mmm.”
He scratched him a bit behind the ears, but not that much, as Vados and Champa were watching. It’s always weird to have someone watch you get pleasure like that in public, except if you’re Louis C.K., but then again fuck the gingers.
“That’s enough,” Beerus said, rising. “I’ll be back in an hour with more chinpou than either of you could ram down your throats. But you owe me, Champa.”
“What?! How? What the heck, Beerus?! How could you be so unreasonable?!” his brother roared, jumping up and down and waving his hands. It was almost like he was a cartoon or somethin’ (tsss tsss).
“When we were kids, you didn’t appear in my origin story since you weren’t invented yet,” Beerus growled again like my little Dexter at 3 am when he’s looking for some fucc (the puse game ridic round these parts).
For a while he was drifting back home, through the cannibal forests and floating cities, until he came upon his refrigerator, which stood like an obelisk in the middle of the road. Plastering it were pictures drawn by Frieza of all the planets he had destroyed for Lord Beerus.
“There’s more where those came from,” Whis sighed, coming up behind him, a stack of fresh drawings in his hand. The planets were mostly round, but Frieza had decided to draw himself as a stick figure with a hecka long tail. Beerus became annoyed that like him, Frieza was hairless and possessed a tail. Moreover, though he was without fur, Frieza had several family members, none of them being as rotund as Champa. But then again, Frieza was like eighteen tiers below Beerus on the Universal Tier List (bless his Arcosian nips), so that was fucking weird.
“How could someone so weak rule the universe?”
“It shows how poor of a job you and that Shin fellow are doing at maintaining this universe’s mortal level. I thought we already went over this, Lord Beerus. My father sent you a strict warning not five million years ago that you better get your act together in a hurry or you’ll be replaced. If you can’t clean your room, you’re no better than a space lobster, Lord Beerus.”
Beerus was embarrassed, so he looked away, grumbling softly to himself, as he often did. “That Kai is an idiot. Of all the Kais for Majin Buu to spare… it was that one. He’s the dumbest one of the lot. Did you know, he swore to me the other day that there are only twenty or thirty civilized planets in the universe? Why, we’ve been to more civilizations than that since my last nap, Whis. How does he think the Galactic Patrol functions? What about Frieza’s Planet Trade Organization? Does he really believe either organization could sustain itself if the number of planets were truly so few?”
“Oh, certainly, Lord Beerus. Shin is a bakaboy if I’ve ever seen one, and oho, trust me, I’ve seen many. More than that, even. It’s a shame that there haven’t been any new Supreme Kai fruit in bloom since before the time of Buu. Even so, he’s still rather young, and I doubt he will be stepping down anytime soon. You will need to coordinate with him if you want to bring this universe back up to a healthy mortal level.”
“Whatever. I’d rather eat frosting straight from the can and then take a five hundred year nap. Say, Whis, do the other Gods of Destruction have to nap like I do?”
“Oh certainly not, Lord Beerus. That is a big part of why we’re always so behind. I often think that Vados and I made a mistake picking you and your brother for this job. The least you two could do is stay awake long enough to master Ultra Instinct.”
“Hey, that shit’s hard. How many Gods of Destruction have that mastered?”
“None, of course.”
“And how many mortals?”
“None, Lord Beerus, though it would be a major turn on for me if that were the case.”
“Exactly my point, Whis. Say, what do you think the odds are that after Frieza fails with his ‘take over the universe’ plan, he’ll become a professional painter, or possibly even a beanie-wearing mangaka who poses for the press in the middle of his driveway at around a little past noon?”
“No, of course not, Lord Beerus,” Whis replied cheekily, letting the papers he was holding drop to the ground, where Beerus lit them up with one tiny ball of destruction energy, “I think at that point, he’ll be dead, along with the rest of his family.”
“Theirs is a powerful family, Whis.”
“Yes indeed Lord Beerus, but the plot demands it sometimes.”
The refrigerator was gone. Not even a single one of Frieza’s doodles remained. Beerus had half-forgotten how bad of an artist that cunt was. “Uh Whis… what are we doing back on my homeworld, anyways? I haven’t been here in years. Whis?”
He looked around. Whis was gone, as were the trees, the road, the city in the distance that had been eclipsing the sun. Everything was shapeless and black, and yet still he could not quite push through. It was like with Ultra Instinct, he knew. He had to let go. It wasn’t so much about having intuition as about having precision. Anyone can snort a ball of space wasabi, but if you aren’t throwing up immediately afterwards, or falling over, or letting your eyes water, or gagging, or anything like that… what was the point?
Beerus cared not, for as soon as he thought that, the thoughts passed through the void he was floating in at light speed, never to be thought again.
They had been there, with the other Gods and Angels, as eighteen had become twelve. Lord Zeno had been walking down the line outside his palace, shaking each of their hands, screaming in a high-pitched voice, “Hi, I’m Zenoooooooo!!”, and showing them pictures of him not cleaning up anything, the little shit. At the time, they had been boys, too young to be Gods of Destruction. As candidates for Destroyer positions, it had been their duty to spar in front of Zeno to prove their strength to him.
Even then, he had been faster–just barely, but it had been enough. He had taken Champa’s blows, and Champa had taken his, and there had been no advantage either way. They were at stalemate until the opening presented itself and he faltered. His brother knocked him cleanly out with one right hook. Was that Ultra Instinct?
He made his mind go blank, forgetting all the lies and all the truths at once. There he was now in Universe 8, Liquiir greeting him.
“You’re looking for IM Baetta?”
“If I wasn’t, why would I be here?”
“I want to go on this mission with you, Beerus.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Bad pusspuss bad,” Liquiir growled, pulling out a squirt bottle and nailing him in the face. “Why couldn’t you dodge that, anyways?”
“Hmph, the plot demanded it. Look, this is taking too long. I need to get that chinpou and get out of here.”
“I hear your brother ate all the chinpou.”
“He did. What of it?”
The three-tailed fox gave him a wry smile. “I’m surprised he liked it so much.”
This dream had been corrupted; he could feel it. That wasn’t what Liquiir had actually said. It was all wrong. They flashed forward in time, like leaping through a glass window. The compound was situated in a mining station in the midst of an asteroid field. IM Baetta and his working companion Pissboy were waiting for them. No, that wasn’t right either.
“Heard about the crisis,” Baetta grunted. He was a big lad, the kind who shits five to six times a day and still finds time to grow a beard. When he shaves, he leaves his beard trimmings all over the sink, as if presenting a trophy, but who could that possibly impress? It’s not hard to wonder why he’s still single.
“Shame about those chinpou, they were good frozen treats. Love ‘em myself, but that doesn’t mean they’re they only ones I love, don’t be getting no wrong impressions now.”
“Please give us one,” Liquiir asked politely, bowing. “We only need the one. Lord Zeno is lusting hard for some chinpou right about now. It’s a rare and long pleasure, my good sir. How can you refuse?”
“Eh. Like, I don’t know, man.”
“Who are you to speak to a god in that manner?!” Beerus roared at Pissboy. “I’ll destroy you if you don’t give us what we’re seeking!”
“Look man, I’m just a boy, and I love piss. That’s all there is to this. Like, a hole’s a hole, right? But what’s so great about holes? It’s just an opening. There’s nothing going on with it really. And the bigger the hole, the less tight it is, so isn’t that, like a turn-off? I mean, well, like, basically, it’s just that, there’s so much more to work with with a chinpou, yeah? Like half the guys I know don’t even like the meat flaps. They tolerate it cause they like the rest of the package, and heh, can’t blame ‘em there, but that’s not for me.”
This wasn’t right either, and it wasn’t funny, and it wasn’t meaningful, and there was no character development taking place. That pissed Beerus off. He was about to destroy that loose-lipped dripper when his dream was corrupted again. There was a vast patch of nothingness, followed by a distant humming sound, followed by movement, followed by heavy breathing. The list went on and on, but that didn’t make it any more memorable.
He tried to recapture the scene, but all he saw was melting rock, asteroids flying at great speed in all directions, an explosion swallowing the mining station whole, and two purple, gooey-looking creatures, both obviously female, with head tentacles and arm vents, now floating defiantly between them and IM Baetta.
“Heh, what says you, what says you, my sweet lass?” sang Pissboy. “Love me some goo. Let me get up all in that shit. Goo out on me, all over my face, that way I know you’re one of all them fallen. Well…”
They killed him and his corpse fell upon the last chinpou treat he had been clutching, smothering it. Beerus destroyed the murderer before she had any clue he was coming for her. A muffled scream fell to silence as she melted away from his destruction energy. It was oddly satisfying to watch. He was glad to remember accurately this shred of a memory. He felt like taking a nap, but he was taking a nap–this was a nap, this was not real life. He knew that because he was a god or some shit.
A scream, more fear than pain, was loosed by the other purple girl. IM Baetta’s head exploded, jettisoning blood into the air in a few long, thick spurts. They were alone… how? He did not remember. These were Majin Buu’s kind. He knew that much. He also knew the puse game was ridiculous so you can’t hate the player. He had to let her go. He had been warned before by Whis what would happen to him if he destroyed all of the Majins.
“Crushed it,” Liquiir lamented. “Will Zeno still like it?”
“I don’t know, he’s a little kid with infinite power. He could like anything, or nothing, and it doesn’t matter either way, because if we screw up, we’re dead, and we won’t know we’re dead until after we’re dead, and since after we’re dead, we won’t know anything, it’s pointless.”
“It’s over, as my boy Jiren used to say.”
They fist-pounded, but Beerus felt a little dirty afterwards, as in all his years leading up to this moment, he had never touched a furry before with his bare kitty claws. That was gross, and he never wanted to do it again. Liquiir had a knot; Beerus had barbs and a knot. That meant Beerus would win. That’s why he could use Ultra Instinct and none of the others could. He’d never eat a chinpou like those Saturday cucks.
“Oooooh, whaaaa…?! Is that a chinpou?! A real chinpou? Cool! Pretty! All I have to do is look at it to make my own chinpou tingly!”
“That’s right, Zeno-sama, this is the last chinpou in the universe!”
“Ooh, let me try it, it looks so delicious!”
“Please be careful with chinpou,” the Grand Priest warned him. “They can be quite sticky.”
“Alright, enough of this!” Beerus groaned, pacing before the two in embarrassment. “Wake me up already. I hate this next part. It’s not funny–it just makes me sick.”
The Grand Priest wagged his finger politely. “It would be funny to a filthy boy-maid like the writer of this story.”
Zeno pulled open the packet, and the melted chinpou splattered all over his face. “Ooh, this is so fun, this is so tasty, how cool Look at me! I’m covered in chinpou juice!!” Zeno jumped up on his imperial throne, dabbing respectably, licking the chinpou from his fingers.
Beerus awoke with a start, yelling half-madly and falling off of his cat tower. “Wha…? Where am I?! Whis! Whis!”
“Yes, Lord Beerus?” his attendant said, coming into the room, a half-eaten carton of pudding in his hand. Beerus wanted to vomit, but he hated vomiting so he didn’t. Sometimes that’s the best idea, but usually your stomach just says fuck you and goes for it anyways but I digress.
“Did I win?”
“I’m afraid not. Your brother is still sound asleep in his own cat tower just over there.”
On the other side of the room, Champa was lying on a much shorter cat tower on account of structural concerns in relation to his wicked godly size.
“Vados, I’ll give you a puddin’,” Beerus growled, noticing that his brother’s attendant was there too. “Come on, it’s my birthday!”
“Make it two and a whole carton of God of Destruction litter.”
“What the…?! Why?!”
She was unphased. “Those are my demands.”
Lord Beerus folded his arms impatiently. “You’re a hard-bargainer. Hmph, whatever. Whis, give her the goods.”
He did and so Vados cut Champa’s bed and half, and as he slid off it, Beerus hopped back into his bed, pulled down his nightcap over his eyes, and tried not to lose it when he heard his brother body slam the floor face first, totally unconscious until he wasn’t.
“Huh?! Hey… what happened here? What’s going on?! Did I win or what?!”
“Fraid not,” Whis sang sweetly.
“Of course not, Lord Champa. But you did good. I haven’t seen you nap that long in over a month.”
“How long were we out for?”
“Approximately one month… although Lord Beerus is still sound asleep, as you can see.”
Champa thrust a middle finger at his sleeping birthday brother, blew a raspberry, and declared that he was going home, and since there’s no cracker of a punchline prepared for this ending, I just want to mention that when Vados shaves her vagina, she doesn’t actually shave it at all, since real men are attracted to pubic hair and if you’re attracted to pubic hair, you have a lot of testosterone in you, and basically what I’m trying to say is if you like pubic hair, you’re gay ningen, like fo real my ningen, that’s some nasty-ass shit, good luck with that but im outta here ok like later homelies.
|Brennandi||Dyspo Sucks • Appetent Justice • Filthy Monkeys|
|Nú||Old Nishi • He Needs Some Space Milk • The Naptime Championships|
|Nóg||Leap • Really Big Scary Monsters • The Mortal Flaw|