"How do you like that?!"
The Reverend then grabbed a bulging bun, and slun-
-g it at Hugo's red Santa pants, with a withering glance.
Evasion? Nah, well there was no chance.
Like a humungous t*t locked and loaded,
The bun was hurled, plump and fat,
and it HIT and exploded
with a sweet, sticky SPLAT!!!
"...Wait, how did you know it was sweet?" A few weeks after this cursed incident, this creamy 'brawl' between two men, a young man dressed in a Santa-outfit as well as a middle-aged, seemingly respectable 'Reverend' (who had done what with his prayer beads?!?! - but this would be a tale for another chapter...), Hugo's mate Quest Chun asked the important question with penetrating precision.
Hugo's hand shook as he seized his stubby, and sloughed a few sloshes of the sh*tty, malty liquid into his mouth for 'strength'.
"-Don't ask."
___
A while later, after the event henceforth known as "Creamgate"...
It was Fergus' time to shine. He was still dressed in his usual backback, tube and nozzle combo, and ascended the stage to receive his trophy for services to "the Anti-Rizz Industry" amidst resounding applause.
"I had a dream. A dream... of cream."
He said.
"Not too long ago... that dream was ful-filled."
"To be more precise... two men... were filled - fully."
"..."
"-Thank you."
"..."
"What even is this scene?!"
"... Just a little icing on top."
"..."
___
The... 'upshot' of the Reverend's bun-shot was that Hugo - still dressed as Santa - now looked like he had creamed himself...
"Hah, how do you like that? Looks like someone got a little too excited about Christémas coming!"
The irony that it was Hugo - the very man who suffered from his PTSD-induced ED - that was now being publicly viewed as a person having extraordinary low self-control and high libido, was not lost on the audience, who immediately questioned their lives, and indeed their decisions which had led them to read up to this point in the story and understand everything, but nevertheless, they still chucked their Power Stones towards the Author because well, no one was getting out alive anyway, and they were entertained, so why the hell not?!
One Reverend with a wet patch.
One Santa with a cream patch.
A third guy who could not only bake, but also lubricate...
Was this fate?
For the cultured viewers and esteemed audience members - well they could hardly wait!!!
____