Morgan, Kim, Nordafet, Antimo, and for some reason Credion stood around, dumb founded at the pair of bicycles riding by. The bikes themselves were nothing more then two groups of midgets building a working model of a Tesla Coil, but the fact that the whole thing functioned as a bicycle simply amazed and bewildered Kim beyond belief. Morgan shrugged as the midget troupe sung about stoned prostitutes in high squeeky voices. Until, that is, the bottom most midget popped his heel on a thumb tack and deflated. The Tesla Coil, largely unfinished for Doctor Phils evil scheme to transform marshmallows into rabbits that laid grenade like eggs out of their ears.

“Somehow, I’m not understanding how any of this is possible! Just where are we!?” Kim shouted directly into Morgan’s ear, to which a tiny porcelean version of the titanic sank, causing Enigmatt to sit down at a nearby typewriter and write a letter to his congressman about the whole thing. The Tingion soon got bored and wandered off to a local pub and beat every stereotypical nineties action hero into dust for the fun of it. Morgan sat down at chairs foot and wondered for a moment where exactly they were for a while as well. The Reality of the Mind’s Eye had been consumed by the Golden Strands, and it’s Gaurdian for all he knew had been killed off by Joseph Arhem.

He was also aware that shortly after going through the portal out of the Singolarita Dimensionale, the Golden Strands devoured Caasi and turned her into the Dread Queen. But as to their current location, he was not sure at all. And then Pennywise the creepy clown hit him. “Hello John Steinbeck! I’ll eat your heart!” Morgan blinked for a few minutes and then shooed him off in the correct direction of the famous writer.

“Oh… Well, I’m sorry about that, me and Mr. Steinbeck had a two thirty appointment, and well… I’m lost.” the demonic clown told the Lost Wolf.
“You sure you don’t want to battle it out?” Pennywise continued, hoping for at least a little bit of a beatdown. “Trust me. You’d lose. I’m even cutting back nine hundred percent of my potential shooing power to not turn your atoms into jelly.” the man said calmly to the disappointed creature. Kim tried not to scream out of frustration at the complete and utter random things that had just happened in the last five minutes. And then a deep moaning voice erupted the air into a fiery bath of blood and death from which none of the 2011 Oscar winners could escape.

“Housegeusts are not allowed to shoo off Pennywise the clown! Nordafet, please come to the dairy room… STOP THAT!” it roared angrily as the deom was busy flicking toejam at a camera lens floating not one millimeter from his nose. “You stop that… and this aint Big Brother…” he retorted angrily as Julie Chen rose from the ground amidst the disfigured army of Production assistants, headless CBS Lawyers, and violently ill looking Illinios senators. She pointed a long spidery finger at the Deom, opened her mouth, and released terrors so horrifying, so evil, so degrading and mentally jarring, that Richard Simmons threw a Barbie themed birthday party.

“Okay. Why-” “Houseguest are not allowed to question the goddess Julie Chen’s finger poke of death!”

“All I did was-” “Nordafet! PLEASE, SHUT THE HELL UP!”

“Why?” “Houseguests are not allowed to question the Producers!”

“Production is not allowed talk to Deom of knightly stature!” “YOU DARE QUESTION THE VOICE OF BIG BROTHER!? HOW…. DARE YOU DEFY MY ORDERS PUNY MORTAL! TO THE HAVE NOT ROOM WITH YOUR SOUL!”

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Morgan, Kim, Nordafet, Antimo, and for some reason Credion stood around, dumb founded at the pair of bicycles riding by. The bikes themselves were nothing more then two groups of midgets building a working model of a Tesla Coil, but the fact that the whole thing functioned as a bicycle simply am …