At the very same time that Maxim Prather was discussing the end of the world with Perfect Jones and Dani, Tigerlily Binder… lately of the Hex Kittens… was about to complain about her lot in life.
“Oh, great,” she moaned as part of a predictable and tired running gag. “I’m in a filler story… hey! Quit biting my style… you’re the narration. Me breaking the fourth wall is one thing, but you breaking it by reaching into the story isn’t clever… and more importantly, it isn’t funny, either.”
It’s a little bit funny.
“No,” she said. “It isn’t. Like, at all. It’s just obnoxious. What the fuck are you cutting to me for, anyway? People were digging that last scene. Don’t leave things hanging like that… or at least throw some work to somebody else who actually wants it. I’m not a Hex Kitten any more. I’m just Lily. My girlfriend is finally pulling a day shift, and I’m completely free for the first time in years… the first time in my life, actually. So, really… thanks for the interest, it’s very flattering, but really, I just want to enjoy a quiet night at home, okay? I don’t want to dance like a little monkey girl for your amusement.”
Lily Binder just wanted to enjoy a quiet night with her girlfriend…
“I just said that. Ass.”
…but little did she know that earlier that same night, the idol of Ook the Dancing Monkey god had been stolen from the Nebula City Museum of…
“Hey, what? No. NO. This is an ongoing narrative with a semi-consistent mythology. You can’t just pull a monkey god out of your ass to make a cheap joke at my expense. Some people could pull it off, maybe, but face it: Tom Jones you ain’t.”
What?
“Tom Jones. The animator,” Lily said. “You know… ‘Duck Amuck’? The paintbrush and the eraser keep reaching down and messing stuff around every time he says something, and at the end it pulls back and it’s Bugs Bunny drawing the scene? It like won an Emmy or something.”
Do you mean Chuck Jones?
“Him, too! Whatever. If you want to do a filler story, go bother the cyclepomps… most of the people reading probably haven’t even heard of them, since you’ve never merged the old stories together,” Lily said. “Or maybe finish that weird Arthurian kung fu melange thing you had going on. I don’t care, so long as you leave me the fuck out of it, because I’m pretty sure I’m going to score tonight but I’m also pretty sure I’m in the wrong story for that to happen if you hang around here narrating.”
At the very same time that Maxim Prather was discussing the end of the world with Perfect Jones and Dani, on the very same night that Lily’s period started five days early and she got a truly horrific case of food poisoning that made her seriously just want to die, a figure in red leather raced through the streets of Nebula City astride a powerful bike.
Her name was Val. She was a messenger, and she was about to make a pickup.
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