Technarl seemed lost, he was looking at the Golden Strands right as they slowly ripped through the Councils chambers. Clocks body was torn asunder from the power of the Bloody Strands infiltrating his bubble and tore him apart like a bomb going off inside a wet paper bag filled with french friends.

“I… I… I have to get Morgan away from you!” the Guardian said as he witnessed the bloody splat on the wall dripping down slowly. The Bloody Strands bursting out of the puddle like the finale of a fourth of July fireworks display, screaming with infinite joy as it did so.

“It’s useless to fight me! I will find Morgan in this time, and put an end to his reign of terror! Once and for all! Atsukai nikui seigi jigoku!” the Bloody Strands roared as they multiplied and grew until they filled the Guardians chambers, killing off Technarl once more.It was like a simple firework going off, but the effect was massive, infinite in its power, and five hundred times faster then the speed of light. The red Strands swallowed every atom, regardless of who it belonged to, both Existence and Non-Existence were swallowed in the blanket of red that expanded faster than even Joseph could have moved.

“This is imp-” he was snapped in four the moment the Bloody Strands touched him, ending his role in the Chasm’s plans, but even the tear in space and time became victim to the Bloody Strands wrath. From the outside, it was nothing more than a ball of red, that simply kept on growing with out remorse, fueled ever more by the life energy of everyone it had killed. On the inside how ever, it was pitch black, empty, and almost infinite in its beauty. The Bloody Strands continued its path of destruction through out the dual realms of Existence and Non-existence, and then it exploded. Destroying everything and everyone all at once except for a few select individuals with deathly grave looking bananas in their hands.

But then the individuals themselves exploded into a Microcosm of Impossibility, where nothing made sense, and everything simply turned into a glowing green ball of Burger Hindi Juice. Which promptly and efficiently slammed into the nearest power line and exploded into an even more vast and expansive Greater Microcosm of even greater Impossibility. It was inside this Microcosm of Greater Impossibility the everything was returned to its original position in the universe of Existence and Non-existence, that the events of the past few days never seemed to occur, that Conan O’brian was still hosting The Late Show, and Jay Leno had to return his giant Chin Missile of Death. But still, that was the greater Microcosm of Impossibility, and outside that was just the Regular Microcosm where the individuals once stood holding their deathly grave looking bananas had once proudly resided. But now, the only beings who resided in this dismal reminder, this ferociously startling reminder of the carnage that had played out, like an orchestra’s sudden and strangely addicting urge to kick the person in front of them, where a group of drunken Japanese scientists that had just wandered out of a TGI Fridays with jello shots in hand, and a orange with a red button sticking out of it in the other.

“What the fuck happened!?” screamed the heftier of the four, finishing off his jello shot before breaking out in a poorly done rendition of that scene in footloose where Kevin Bacon just goes fucking nuts. “Press the button and find out George! Jeez! You would thing that after all those tests we did on the fat guy running from the giant cheese wheel of death, that you would get it through your head!” the eldest of them shouted, punching George in the face before doing a bad impression of Lady Kayne.

 ”Well… only one way to find out what actually happens when I- huh? Is that a monkey on a type writer!?”  a third said, tapping George on the shoulder, just before recieving a strong right hook to the jaw. “Sorry Bob, I was aiming for George, why yes Bob, that is a monkey on a typewriter.” Steve said before picking bob up off the floor. The monkey on the typewriter was punching its typewriter in the face, and only stopped when it saw Steve, Bob, George, and Jennifer dry humping a coffin made out of lemon twists.

“Doesn’t that burn Jennifer?” Steve asked, as they stopped just before the monkey. “Dude! why the fuck haven’t you pressed the orange button yet!?” the monkey shouted as it pointed its finger at Jennifer, who instantly regretted drying all those lemon twists.

“Well… I don’t know…” she replied as she began dumping a carton of what bob hoped was talcom powder down the front of her pants before pressing the button on the orange. In an instant, the bloody strands retracted, slamming everything together in a mismatched representation of the Fox News organization as they knew it. And no one actually knew who the Fox News organization employed. Turned out to be the monkey at the type writer. Once again, Morgan had become whole and simply pulled out a chain gun from his pocket and blasted away at Joseph and Aneeh, who had almost but not quite, finished cloning Leonardo Devinci so that he could conquer the Door of Existence before putting on a tutu and exploding. Unfortunately, just minutes before that, Nordafet had put on the exploding tutu and danced his last Swan Lake with tears in his eyes and a very disappointed Ballet instructor.

“POINT YOUR FUCKING TOES!” she screamed. Morgan pulled out a second chain gun and then with the help of Master Splinter, defeated the monkey at the typewirter who had just finished his four thousand page novel about an apple and a orange who had fallen in love at the grocery store, were separated through an earthquake, and then reunited in the digestive track of Joe Biden. Needless to say the monkey wasn’t very happen with page two thousand seven hundred and fifty eight, because the price tag on the silver dress the apple bought conflicted with the current housing market on page three thousand eight hundred and ten.

It was ranked number one for ten straight years on the New Yorker’s best sellers list. Roger Ebert hated it.