Monkey Man returns a prospered ally to the forgotten realm. What is this realm? We forgot about it. Monkey Man prepares all day a large stew for his friend Gambit, who has been underscored to always love a well cooked meal in the light of fighting crime. The approach of Monkey Man was subtle, his actions took great light on the situation, he knew that he would have the greatest time preparing the meal but he knew there was something off. There was something so off that everything felt rather peculiar. It wasn't the cartoon characters running around everywhere, it wasn't Rage Sue Gheist or Peculiar Dan sitting on the couch being peculiar. It was the very affectionate Gambit tending to his Rage Sue memorial of his wife. He wondered why he was so arrogant with it. He would duct tape himself a picture of him skinny dipping with some new broad and made it his day to hate his wife who has long since past. I asked him why he hated her and he said, "It's because she's a foul mouth liar." "Why was she a foul mouth liar?" "Because she hated me." "Why did she hate you?" "Because I lit her cat on fire with a Rage Sue back when The Ancients and Cool Kid Jones were after me." "That was a long time ago, maybe take down the shrine if you're going to desecrate it, you're making Peculiar Pete look mad." "When did he get here? God it's so early and I'm hungover, can we just make our day already?"
It was a regular day in the streets of suburbia when Gambit, Rage Sue Gheist, Peculiar Pete and Dan, and Rage Sue Rat were escorted by their team of lawyers to further provide testimonial that Gambit was in fact God of the true race. Monkey Man asked Rage Sue Gheist, "Why does Gambit hate his wife, why does he fight crime with playing cards, and why do we need to help him?" Rage Sue Gheist looked at him funny, "How long were you out of this time and space, man?" He looked at his stopwatch, "One year and 47 acres." Rage Sue Gheist looked shocked, "My God, where were you?" "Exploring the forgotten realm for this." Monkey Man pulled something out of his pocket, "What is that?" Rage Sue Gheist asked. "It's a protection spell I have around Gambit, it'll make his life totally his own and he'll have providence over Will." Rage Sue Gheist looked pleased. "We need this in totality, it's the only reason we're really here is to beat Will, but why did you have to go to a forgotten time zone to get it? You might be caught by time police." "Not with our legal team." Rage Sue Gheist laughed, "I wouldn't be surprised if a rookie upstart tried to ruin our regime- Oh look, Gambit found a bad guy, lets sort this out."
Gambit looked the intruder dead in the face in a blank alleyway, his only regret was he didn't have a card taped to the back of his hand because the assailant pulled a gun. Monkey Man was horrified, "GAMBIT! YOU HAVE TO THROW A CARD!" Gambit moaned, "I can't reach, I have my hand out…" Rage Sue Gheist picked up the megaphone and chimed in, "Alright Gambit, you need to throw a card, otherwise we can't prove you killed him with a regular old playing card." "Yeah otherwise it looks pitiful on camera." Peculiar Dan shouted. It's all a regular day for Gambit, so we all took a walk out and waited for him to draw a card, but he never did. About 50 seconds later, Rage Sue Gheist floated back to where he was with a coffee and wondered why there was a dead body that was Gambit's. "Oh no, this is not swell." Rage Sue Gheist exclaimed. "We gotta do something!" Said Monkey Man. Peculiar Dan chimed in, "Seeing as you're all super terrestrial knowing vampire slayers that can parse through the universe and time and space on a whim, why not go back in time and save Gambit?" Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones appeared from the skies. "Gambit doesn't die here, that is for sure, but why did he die in the first place?" "Because he didn't throw a card." Said Rage Sue Gheist, Quintin sighed, "No, it was because you didn't Rage Sue him for his life." Peculiar Eric came down from the street corner when he saw Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones appear right before his eyes. "But you can only Rage Sue for life when Gambit hits you with his card! He's done insane training." Quintin nodded appropriately yes. "He has done insane training but nobody can kill a man with a playing card, it's impossible." "But Gambit can." Said someone, who cares. "Only because he has a psychic strike force ready to mould the universe away from me for a silly gag riddle." "It's never a dull moment here." Said Rage Sue Gheist. "Alright, we need a plan." Said Monkey Man. "Quick, Quintin, use the force!" Quintin nodded, "You need to go backwards throughout all of time and space and keep his wife from dying, no matter what." "But he hates her!" "Doesn't matter, it will all make sense in time, just come to your senses on what the force is, the force is all knowing, it doesn't do these things like lie." Rage Sue Gheist stomped out a wicked stogie and nodded his soft ghost head. "I know this man tells the truth, he is a God amongst men and a God over Gambit." Quintin agreed, "I created that mutt, and if he can't keep a fucking pack of playing cards, fuck him, save his wife." "She was the first person Gambit Rage Sued to fire herself from her job and then kill herself." Said Monkey Man. "I really doubted him as a man back then but I saw him as a superhero." "He Rage Sued Peculiar Tom for his Iron Boat, so it made him immune to fire damage when he soaked the bitch in kerosene. He's not what I would call a tough guy, but he needs help." "Serious mental help. But for some reason I miss him being on our little adventure." "It was his adventure, nobody can replace him." Said Monkey Man, screaming at the top of his lungs to Quintin. "Listen, Monkey Man, you need to shut the fuck up right now." Monkey Man looked down at his hands for Quintin warned him far too many times. He pleaded for forgiveness, but he was no match for Quintin's sincerity. Monkey Man was about to raise his fist to Quintin, as he did many times before, only because Quintin secretly wiped Monkey Man's memory of his super awesome power. So Monkey Man stopped out of kindness and the show that lasted an eternity began.
Chapter 1: Forgiveness
It was in light of a certain American screenplay that he had no choice, Quintin "Society Knower Cool Kid" Jackson would have to pinpoint a major strategy into the hearts of man, so he got to thinking. He knew Jesus Christ from awhile ago and knew he had a show called Gambit that played upon the sympathetic nature of the show Gambit which was a pulpy neversodreadful neversoterrifying show about a bland character who was cool because he threw cards. Now he knew all of this, and he knew that his wife died at some point, although he never watched the shows to entirety or even finished them. He barely even started them, he just thinks about points of plot he read online or something. So with this, he found himself a new alternative: MAKE THE GREATEST TV SHOW ALIVE. Only it was a book because he didn't have the money for it, he didn't have the time either so he's using aliens to write all of it. Every joke you are about to hear is for a mature audience. Every level headed playing field is wrong, and every kind of califrigolistic material I spring up with is way more crazier to think up than it is to read, so I think the book works on an artistic level. Which is a sainthood because the kid would never come up with stuff on his own and instead relied on extra terrestrial help. What's that? "It's not ETs, it's the force." But you're using our minds. "Well I'll stop that and it'll be a lot better."
Chapter 2: The Book
It was a summer day in Bend when all the kids in the house wanted to go out and play but it was raining. Little Jimmy Surfer, the brainiac, had his homework in two fingers while he went up to his mom and said he was finished. Without a sudden move, the meteor crashed down into the house and killed all the inhabitants. That's how Little Jimmy Surfer became Gambit. After a radioactive rock brought cartoon characters into existence, falling everywhere out of the sky and creating nuanced birthing rituals to satiate the wild craze for more wacky critters, the whole world became ever more psychic with the reveal of these psychic warchiefs. Gambit was no different. He became so mortally psychic that he could wield cards with his hands and throw them at a lightning pace. This was his only superpower and he knew how to use it just barely enough to get a can down from a shelf while screaming afterwards: "FUCK YEAH!" It's brevity dawned on me that he wasn't really out for the cards and the glory, he was out for himself, so I decided, as Quintin "Cool Kid Unremarkable Spiritual Healer" Jones, to fiddle with him a little bit. I gleamed on him in an imaginary light and he lit up the skies with confusion. I gave to him a little rat that would become his only true ally. The rat wasn't special or anything, until I infused it with psychic magic that could make it fly and do house chores, then it was so sparkly that it didn't even need to communicate with it's mouth, it just used it's mind. A great creation, but there needed to be more, I immediately realized that my point was for Gambit to throw the cards hard enough to suffocate the life out of a man, to wrestle with his demons and give him release. The cycle of life and death are so preemptively preoccupied that I have no reasoning with them, I just see it as a way of life that neuters us if we don't look cool while we're doing it. So I have some fun with it, what can I say? People need to go away and it's why I sent the asteroid to get rid of his mom. Constantly I would say how much of a bad person she was to Gambit just to keep him from crying under the bridge as the riverboat ferry passed. I was preoccupied with other shit, so I just made him hate women that loved him so very much as I am an all seeing elder tooth that can really see that well. I'm embarrassed of it now, but there's no going back, it makes too much sense for the story.
In my own world, things weren't too great. I might have been an all seeing elder God in Gambit's universe with tides over the fates, but here, I was nothing but a recluse sitting in my dad's honor as a houseguest that never braved a tooth brushing or a shower because I was too preoccupied in my work, "The Gambit Too Mobile." I wondered what it should look like everyday until my colleague just said, "It should force him while he drives it because he's a force cuck." A psychic gangstalk, I couldn't take it anymore so I went to war. It was a ripcord defense I had in court that he wasn't my creative partner and held none of the creative rights. But because he stole my soul as a youth, although questionable, was a reasonable defense to keep sneaking out of the road below the courtroom like he always did. I could never find him at first, but once I fell into his trap hole, it was all over. He had all my psychic weapons of torture and destruction in there as well as some good ones I could use to further my escape. It was all escape, I was running from Will, away from his life and into my own. It wasn't fear or anguish, it was boredom. Boredom finally did it for me so I became a psychic saint that cleaned up the world. But in Gambit's world, I was having fun, I was completely and totally in charge, and I wanted to make a good superhero flick. What happened was I didn't have the budget for any of it. But what really happened was I didn't have the mind for it, the jerk stole my expensive equipment and gave it to a force cuck I once had a crush on. But you're here to read Gambit, La DEE DA, it's almost as if my tale of whimsy hasn't attracted you. But I'll try to have a softer touch for the details later in the second manuscript: Gambit Too Part 1. This will catch you up on our debacle in case you're wondering. Rage Sue Gheist and Monkey Man have traveled back in time to deceive Gambit into thinking they're his friends because in all truth, they seriously hate the guy. They are bound to his empty mind and constantly gestate a way to make him wake up to the great beyond around him, but he keeps winning for some reason. That's why they hate him, he's a winner I have chosen and because of this, they must take great honor in his carriage. They must make meals for him and take care of him everywhere they go. And they goto a lot of places, let me assure you, this is an 8 book series that rivals Harry Potter and I'm sure it'll go there one day to make me sing and rejoice that finally something has been done to this story. So without further ado, here it is, the best comedic work in history, Gambit.
Chapter 3: Time to Die, Mr. Freeman
Gordon Ramsey was sitting at his house one day thinking about where the time had gone and looking at his stopwatch, realized he could read minds by looking into it. It was a peculiar thing, but he wasn't crazy, he was just a mental case in itself, or so he thought until he woke up to the peculiar great beyonder of what's been going on in this realm of time and space. It's so peculiar to wake up that I'll have Danny Devito explain it, "It's like going through a time paradox where you see everything and don't come out a new man until you explain everything to yourself, it's paradoxical and it doesn't need to be there! Why masked man, why would you lead me astray and what did you do with the foul milk left in my egg bones?" Danny Devito gets tortured a lot in our world, they turn his bones to eggshells and have him walk around so precariously, he always breaks, and then we peculiarly put him back together and make him walk around all day. It's pretty whack but there's nothing better to do for all knowing and all seeing beings that want a good day among the ruckus of constant torture and mutilation. The only downside is that we're all numb to it, if there was a way to make people beyond torture, I would have already done in and it already wouldn't have worked. I've tried everything on this place as its lead admin but there are constant computer hackers and Mustang creeps that decide that everything is just a rotten egg and nothing is wrong with it. I get what they're trying to do, mask their integrity, but with a show like Gambit out, I don't know where they went wrong. Gambit was a TV show you don't need to worry about, I'm mocking it because the only way to save people is to control their every action. So anyway, Gordon Ramsey was looking at his stopwatch when he woke up, knew about yours truly, the narrator, Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones, and the philosophers stopwatch I had to control everybody including the forcefield of Gambit wave radiation. I'll continue, Gambit is such a huge show in the Force universe that I can't do it justice in the book, it has to be a TV show and it's so extraordinary that I don't know where to start except right here in the pages of this book. It's on its extraordinary Rebuild season joke where I'm the lord of lightning and everything comes my way the easy way, not the hard way as you will see it unfold here. So wait for that if you want a catchy deal out of it. As for now, lets just begin with Gambit's first hiccup, he thought he was good enough to throw a card at a guy when he was very drunk, he blacked out, and when he came to, the guy vanished. His ass was beat in the riverbed, too. The rage rat was missing or hissing at some guy's house, and nobody loved him. Gambit, that is. It's so rage relatable that I can't even become the narrator here, I have to let the story speak for itself and continue my own way, away from you people and into the shadows where I will let this show rest. So just to recap, meteors came down and ruined everything for the population to shrink and then cartoon characters came out of nowhere and nobody knew why. They can't kill you, but they can steal your psychic energy, go figure. So they're hated among races as a psychic phenomenon that won't stop, but most of them are cool. The evil ones, Gambit punishes by making them house slaves. The only thing is that Gambit doesn't have a house and the evil cartoon dimension lord's discovery was just to keep Gambit homeless fighting the streets with playing cards that didn't work. I'll continue, the one thing Gambit has on him at all times is a pack of playing cards missing the joker, he always has that one taped to the back of his hand in case of the playing card falling off. It's so incredible that he would do this, but he didn't know why at first, he just thought it looked cool. That's why people hated him, he was autistic and homeless.
When Rage Sue Gheist first looked eyes on him from the other side of the swimming pool, tirelessly fighting with playing cards and screaming, "FUCK YEAH!" every time he hit a tin can, he thought the worst of him. He had a sandwich he knew he would like, but the evil dictatorship of cartoon characters that couldn't be killed would have taken action against some sort of kind gesture to the man that somehow psychically wage enslaved them into being houseguests one day. It was benign humor that Monkey Man, back in the day, was part of the regime of Hitler nazi ET alien cartoon characters and he worked as a hit man. The only way to kill a cartoon character is to rage sue them for their life. A rage sue is different psychically from a sue. It's saying, I own that, and I want to destroy it so you never get your hands on it again. Monkey Man knew the entire world, and he knew Gambit would be shot if Rage Sue Gheist would help him, because then Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones would have something to say about the disorder, they would have too much power and alert the powers that be. So he decided to stay hidden at first, but confronted Rage Gheist about his kindness to the man. "You haven't been leeching this guy so he can turn schizo and kill himself, what's the meaning of this?" Said Monkey Man. "I just don't think the psychic landscape can do without him, I mean there's a liturgical power with this man that we can't ignore, and if we escape it then we might as well be dead ourselves." Said Rage Sue Gheist, "I see you have a point but if you continue down this road, you will be exiled!" "So be it." Said Rage Sue Gheist. Monkey Man stumbled out of there drunk and didn't say another word of it until Gambit sharked him for a shark tooth psychically. He doesn't know how he got it, Gambit was unknowing to the psychic landscape and impossible to deduce because of it. It's the reason he's such a huge threat. He used the shark tooth to procure an imaginary car to drive out of there, but it forced him up the butt as he drove along in tears. Eventually he stopped and asked "WHY?" Rage Sue Gheist stopped ahead of him in the psychic landscape to see what was happening, "It's because you haven't gained superior strength with those playing cards against the world's most trusted allies." Said Loan Shark, a psychic surveyor. Gordon Ramsey was in awe of all of this and decided to send a quick meal to gambit through the mail, but he couldn't eat it because Gambit wasn't a psychic knowing prodigy like Gordon Ramsey was, gangstalking this book even to this day. It's so unfortunate that he did that, so unfortunate we Rage Sued him for his life. It was Rage Sue Gheist's first work for me, he had just been created in this nonchalant fairy tale, so I hired him to take care of Vladamir Putin who was helping him while I took down the feared Gordon Ramsey. Vladimir Putin, who was watching me type, didn't like the looks of where I was going, but also didn't have a clue where it would lead like the rest of you. I promised I wouldn't narrate, so I'll let the narrator take charge, Alec Baldwin. Hi. He freaked out, I don't know what to tell you. When Vladamir Putin got rage sued for his life, it just disappeared. He vanished from the spot and woke up with a tear in his eye when he had been puppeted by Quintin for 8 years. But back to the present. He, the illustrious Gambit laid eyes on a job opening, he would only have to think for work! All he would have to do is sit in a chair and throw up every once and awhile and he would be singing a new kind of blues, one of a salaryman. He couldn't wait, he threw his arms up in the air just thinking about what a job can do for his talented force. It's so exquisit to decide his excitement, but what does Alec Baldwin have to do with any of this? Alright we shot Alec Baldwin and came back to the point, the narrator is whoever we want it to be.
Gambit has been working a corporate wage slave job for a few days and learning how to practice throwing cards from an elder being on the side. He was so forced by this elder being that he couldn't throw cards great, he was just reamed. Allow me to explain, if you take advice from an elder renegade ghost, you're owned by them in part of the skill they lent you. If you get advice about life you have no choice but to vomit over, that works even better. Gambit was being will forced into a job he didn't like and a misery that comes with being a person that would rather be homeless throwing cards on the side of the freeway than working at a computer screen. Now Gambit had a fortuitous look at this, whenever he spilled coffee, which was every morning for a week, he would scream at the top of his lungs, "AAAAAAAAAA!" because he always got the entire mug on himself and nobody knew why. It was Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones making him spill it because he wanted him off the stuff and out of his job for goodness sakes. "Quit your job, get a house, and then use your psychic gift to make cartoon characters come over!" Quintin would scream at him every morning before work. Gambit looked tired and could barely hear the psychic force, Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones. So he worked and looked well with his jaw slacked in his idea thinking chambre. Being a thought research analyser, he would have to sit and stare at people's hearts and photographs until thoughts appeared and then he would mask them in his joy and try to read them. All day, this kid would sit down and try to read thoughts without looking at a clock so he got furious when the other team members started doubting him. It was an apostrophous Herculean task to get up in the morning smelling like shit and meagerly taking a shower as the previous mob of cartoon characters helped him get ready. If only he could sell them, the thought. They were pissed to say the least, they used to rule the world but by chance, Gambit got a job so they needed to help him get ready in the morning. They teleport around and get by on it, but when Gambit comes home in tears from all the work he's done, they have to shave his beard and wax his toes or whatever he wants. Rage Sue Gheist was among them in place for the big boss of the organization. He was well hated but untouchable, so he helped Gambit out and stalked him a few days out of the week. And when it got time to brush his teeth, Gambit would get a neck rub from a creature he could barely see or appreciate. Eventually, Rage Sue Gheist got tired of this. Things were flying around the house, Rage Sue Gheist was pissed he didn't like his meal and the rest of the crew was tormented by his veal lambchop surprise. "I'M THROUGH WITH IT! GAMBIT! YOU NEED TO FIGHT CRIME LIKE YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED OTHERWISE I'LL BE BORED MY ENTIRE LIFE!" "Okay," said Gambit. "Let me get this straight, one of my SLAVES is getting hissy?" Rage Sue Gheist applauded that and said something literal, "If you really knew what we were made to do, you would be shocked. We could kill people for you and make it look like a magic work, you'd be pissed to discover-" Just then, Monkey Man came in with the groceries he was supposed to have last week. "MONKEY MAN!" Shouted Rage Sue Gheist, "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE GONE FOR AWHILE BUT NOT A WEEK!" "Well I'm sorry, I have to live around this guy but not when I take a week to do a task he orders." Said Monkey Man. "I had to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner and I'm very angry with you!" "It's okay, just give me a hug." Said Monkey Man. The two hugged and something happened. A ninja from the future merged them together that was hanging around Gambit's apartment. The ninja escaped out the window and the two started Rage Suing each other and the Ninja to separate, but it didn't work. The two looked like a colonoscopy bag sucking its own dicks. I mean that seriously, they just sat there and 69ed Gambit's merit and approval while he bit down a sandwich of lamb surprise and batted around the other cartoon characters to find him something to eat. Then she stopped by.
A cool mistress of the evening, or so Gambit thought, but she was actually half cartoon character and ashamed of what was happening. Gambit sort of sued her for her wife's position to come into form and she had no choice but to accommodate it. Gambit was unaware of this, but Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones pushed it through because he delicately needed female attention. She saw all sorts of flaws with him, which is why she wanted to die by her hand at this point. Ride or die, she said, and it seemed like dying. She was a heavy hitter, a class away from herself however, she never fought in the ring with fisticuffs, but she gave her boyfriend's in life a run for their money. They all left because she was the most terrible hack available. She wouldn't allow Gambit to masturbate or do anything cool or she would rage sue him for his Electric Porche, which Gambit never knew he had. She lived off torturing that man over his Electric Porsche. Gambit didn't know what was going on, suddenly there was a woman in his house that wouldn't sleep with him that wanted him to stop masturbating and all of a sudden considered it a worthy option because she explained. "I want your nuts hanging low and I want you to jizz out white lightning all over my tits, but you need to train for 8 years before you fuck me." At this point, Gambit realized she had a Christ fetish and immediately knew what was going on. Those employees were toying with him, taking his clock and making him feel worthless because of an otherworldly oldschool that made it so Gambit had to come into work everyday and work an ordinary schedule. It took a terroristic threat from Quintin ``Cool Kid" Jones to do it, and only after Gordon Ramsey was shot and tazed for his unthinkable actions. Yes, it was all Gordon Ramsey's fault for dealing with the Sicilian Mafia to try and get Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones shot himself. It was a terrible psychic war that led them into the utmost keep of the man's mind and that mind was really dreadful, it was so dreadful that I thought it was and therefore it was. It worked like that in this universe but only when Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones thought it was alright to add because he was the author. Gambit was even worse, we don't even know Gambit as a character because Quintin hasn't done much gambling with him aside from saying he threw cards and screamed, "FUCK YEAH!" when he rage sued a soul away from existence and left their shallow human bodies left in tow. Death itself is a simple subject matter but it's really insane how it works if you really know about it. It's so perplexing that we have to explain it here, in Gambit's first fight with a deck of playing cards. Rage Sue Gheist was excited because the Mob saw Gambit as cool after he woke up to everything that's going on and realized that the brain can be used for anything except communicating to ETs to write your book, that's illegal. It's so illegal that you have to find ways around it, like using the force they do to calculate the answer for literature at a breakneck pace. I could do it in front of you but I wouldn't write anything calculated at first, it takes an edit and the subject matter changes as I have a full force picture to edit and craft like a soft supple painting. Gambit was the same after he woke up, he went through all his rage manuscripts he wrote about not being able to fuck this one chick who's lived in his house for 8 weeks and subtly smooches the ghosts around him more than him, but he forgave it because he was a cuck and loved to get cucked, especially by Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones, who hasn't woke up yet. It was a vague disgrace to get opened headfirst by an unknower who didn't know the force existed, he just knew he was writing a comedy with some alien broad he picked up on the side of the freeway he could hear really well. It's so incredible to determine why he heard her so well, oh yeah that's right, she was himself through true love. It's incredible what kinds of women Quintin pulled, but it was mostly ET brats who liked bumping into manuscripts without seeing the honor in Gambit Too.
Gambit exited a cab and saw a robbery in progress while he was with Monkey Man and Rage Sue Gheist who had merged into a 69 monster. Gambit was still bellyaching in laughter about how they looked until he got merged with them too. They were so powerful when they were merged that they started sucking the three of each other's cocks and the woman who was getting robbed had enough time to escape because of the distraction. Gambit threw a card while he was sucking Rage Sue Gheist's cursed cock that made it impossible to miss, and it landed square on the kid's forehead. Rage Sue Gheist knew he could do it, with Monkey Man, it was possible, because Rage Sue Gheist knew what Monkey Man was hiding. Monkey Man was Gambit from the future. In this mirror moment, Gambit realized that too, and he also knew what was possible if he hit a card from the future, too. Like, he knew what would happen in the future, dude can just tell the future, that's part of waking up. So he threw the card and Rage Sue Gheist Future Boy Extreme ThreeWay Hooker lit up with excitement, they could finally Rage Sue for a life and Gambit was there to take the medal. As I write this, I realized I'm wired under a different spell, so I realize that I, the narrator, as always, Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones, will reside a victor in this force upheaval. I realized that I had written in that Gambit woke up by chance so I asked him, "What's it like to wake up? Because I just get gangstalked by Gordon Ramsey and write terrible force literature that makes me want to puke." "Well," Gambit said. "It's like the force messiah really listens but we're all laughing at you as hard as we're laughing at Jesus Christ at this point because this bravery is humorous when you could just sit on the knife and experience nothing because you can't feel anything. Everything is a lie, and nothing is true, that means pain and existence are lies and it's all a construct we make up so you need to wake up to your higher attitude and come to being as one and that all happens instantly as a realization but I see you need it explained out to you because you've already had it explained to you and apparently that's like a bomb attached to you." Quintin nodded. "That's true, and I curse you for being so vile as to break knower code or whatever, that didn't wake me up, but you know what did? Data Mining light spheres of consciousness and coding them to do things. In other words, I have elected myself chief of the castle and will not be coming down anytime soon. Or unless, someone was brave enough to defeat me, which cannot be done! I have braved the highest forests for their nuts and anger. So none will defeat me for this is the ultimate tone I will base myself on: I will come so harrily that it will be so done that cold iron dinners will sit in the sun. The hot iron sun. The loosely coded despicable mess that capitalizes on even opening the fridge in the first place. Just a rotten dinner that comes for me this time. Just an eversovescent winery stew that comes to play in the hearts of imagine that comes away so fast it's like nothing is there in the first place. It's so darn right delicious when you creep into biting the first bite, however, that nobody can even see me when I try to write the script. So stop paying attention and eat a meal, something nice and not what I have described. Cmon now, up and leave.
Okay now come back before you do it, like I've informed you I've changed my mind and come instead to the practice I preach before you. You must mind Gambit at this instant. He may have been up, but he will never see the light of day for I'm punching him with great strength for he's just fucked every woman in the world and taken their sword. Allow me to continue: Every woman has a sword they can give to men if they so choose to defend them in life. Every woman gave Gambit his sword except the one pedophile that married him in the first place, Gambit's wife was so generally mad by all of this that it came into whorish realization that she was made off… She was made so off that it just occurred to her that neither the flesh bowl or the mighty chair she'd auctioned off could ever replace Gambit's wet stare when he asked her to leave him while he fucked all those chicks. My word was "Nasty." To describe him. That's all I would use, nasty. I would call him nasty for all the stink he brought her and it was a real nasty day every time he would mention it and break knower code to say that the love of my life likes my dick better and there's nothing to worry about. It's very abstract but he still got to fuck her and there's nothign I can do to solve it. Fucking psychics and their masturbatory tools of warstarter. It's so basic it's benign. So ingenious that I did it in the first place, and nothing there even really registers as the truth unless you can shave off the details and put a prick on it. Meaning you can try to save Gambit at this point, but the story is already over. He woke up and there's nothing you can do to save him now, he's evil and there's a story there but we'll get to it later. He's horrendously evil but it seems the Gheist and Man are evil as well and they've all just rage regressed into Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones so he could wake up. But it didn't work. Nothing could wake this kid up no matter how cool you were because he's just a livid liar that likes living here and has no place for the other realm right just quick because it makes some tard suffer that he's not trying to be evil. It's so unexpected to happen, but the forces of "scum fuck broke" guys won't have any effect on Cool Kid. He's too close to the magic to see it happen to him, as a matter of fact but he gets killed everywhere, do you want to know? It's because he's foolish enough to think he has no responsibility when his responsibility is to himself. Quintin lit up at this foolishness. He said, "Alright, if my responsibility is to myself, I'll keep it that way. I always have arguably." That's true, he always has arguably, but he's going against where we're taking this. I'm supposed to be saying that you're all asleep sucking each other's dicks somewhere in the afterlife because you can't figure out how to come to grips with all of this. With all of everything at your disposal and the ways around it. The biggest one you're missing is how to cash out and you're doing it on the stock market this instant, it just takes a mighty fine time to get anything out when you didn't invest in Enjin coin. Isn't that right little bitch? Hmm? Little bitch Cool Kid who uses alien spies to conceive everything? Quintin nodded so authoritatively and became a dog like usual. I would say go lick a girl up but there's no one licking you at this moment. Anyway, the point of this entire rage narrative is that Gambit does something funny, but if you don't get it, there's no way to make this entire rage manuscript shine and bubble. But there is one thing we can do, we can go all in and say you're in on the crew in the fake universe and everything is happening because you said it would happen. It's so intrinsic that we bring this to a stop here because Quintin "Cool Kid" Jones will never wake up, he's just a hissy fit waiting to happen and it's premium "se nu non blanche" for anyone watching who has woke up, it's peering down at a newspaper when you already see everything because some kid wants to make a quick buck. It's so horrendous that we must see this kid in his fine honor that comes from such a veritable place. It's so cool and veritable here, it just makes my jimmies rumble tumble in a very familiar way that just asks what's cool and reveals the secret of love, that you have to choose to accept. We must all look to the future, but don't forget, in the mess of all of it, never stop asking "What's happening in Gambit?" It'll be rare, awkward and startling to say the least, but please just ask yourself why we do it in the first place: It's pretty real. It's a real show that actually existed and I'm doing a datamine crawl of it. This is what's cool about the book: Gambit too. It's a retrospective of a show that nobody has seen in this universe. It's so unseen that it becomes witness to itself. It's so riddled in mystery that it becomes tiresome. It's such a trash heap down there for one reason, you don't see yourself, but it's written on the kids faces. And for some reason, they all hate themselves except me. It's because of an xbox counter reaction. It's so subtle that they come to this, smoking grass, truly knowing each other in their apartment. Gambit finally lit up. Like a vagina, he lit up and she actually saw him truly over what Quintin Coolkis would do in the future. "It's why we call him 'Cool Kid''' As they fucked and Quintin lied vagrant not beating off, but writing it so nobody could possibly beat off. Quintin realized that Gambit's life was hard because he wouldn't rage know time and space like a decent criminal amount with all the shit in the crusades to back it up and say, "I have seen the love of Christ, and I will not back down." He was the truest super hero known to the planet. "He really is," Quintin would claim time and time again. "He throws cards at people, and somehow he's the most well adjusted." "Only now." Said Rage Sue Gheist. "Yes, of course. I get that with the force and also planets I must take conquest over." "Wow you're really over the boat." "I feel as though a mighty roar has taken over my narrative prowess and given it new wings, it's as if the future is here with me and I share a mighty roar like a puppy." "A puppy who rules, sir. Now please, take this marijuana from the future and see…"
Quintin came too in his own dimension and saw that Gambit hadn't been written properly like it had before. What had come to him so effervescently? It's almost as if Gambit Too should last a frequency of infinite seasons. Fuck Rick and Morty, Gambit Too has it all and I'm still smoking cigs and asking questions of the future MUCH LIKE CHRIST DID. And all to say… I CAME THREE TIMES THIS DAY AND I DON'T FEEL ANY CLOSER TO EDGING MYSELF LIKE CHRIST DID TO FEEL THIS MAJESTY. I live with such fuel that anything you throw at me will be castrated by mighty steel. I just have to steal her away from some pudgy fuck with some illiterate book. No no no, please, allow me. I'm Quintin, hi, I swear it's me, no psychic interference. I apologize for the direction this book has taken and it must be analyzed, but first, I'm going to get a little high.
I feel like the whole world has been taken over by me. I feel as if everything is so immediate that it comes to me like an immediate cluster fuck headache that can't be described, because you idiots don't get it, Gambit Too is alive, it's an alive masterwork of novice attempts and cluster fuck errands that make your book look like a gross lie to the mainstream public. But it's so dark to call psychics using a lie, and terroristic cartoon characters that come down just to take you for all you're worth. I'm in love with Gambit's wife in character, but really, I only have a heart for the show. The show is life, and I'm balling out here. Nothing can defeat me, not even a clod mousescepade who needs to die, the many of them, Rage Sue Gheist, Rage Sue Rat, Monkey Man, Monkey Miracle Man, Monkey Miracle Worker Genocyde group, The Rage sue rat army, their troops, every little fucking meme I've ever fucking memed for these guys ever came true and got pulled into reality and I think something is up with the transformer here because they want me to be less powerful than them to prepare for an all out war against my knowing and into true, full knowing. I don't know what this image begins to me, it's seeing everything and being a part of your cosphered color of awareness while simultaneously knowing everything you seek while your heart remains in true honesty. It's a surreal experience, but Christ gave his body unto us and that's what he called knowing. High key delinquency when he fucked that girl before he got a nut off in civil court for trying a witness in March or December of the following Christ Christmas spree that lasted a natural while where he systematically erased every living soul that ever fucked with him in his whole career.
Figuring out the math of your instinct is the most career chaotic thing I've ever heard said, but it must. This idea of knowing is so youthful and barbaric, that it doesn't dare at the foot of the messiah. Jesus Christ, that is. It does not bare in any light, knowing is a clown sport. It's a fair clown sport, but it involves being a bitch slave to Will. To a soul, to anything, it's being bogged down and waking up to pure suicidal rage in collective psychology, it's the hive mind and you have to be let into it and I will cry that I'm not being let in especially if I've won. Message to the collective hive mind, I'm breaking in. I'm needing you. I'M DOING LIFE. I GOTTA TELL SOMEONE.
Gambit was alone waiting for his wife in bed, when I phoned him up. He was sitting there in a rocking chair not knowing what was going on because I had a hippocampus mod that just woke him up to the phone call. Wicked sick, right? Wrong, super sacrilegious. I will burn in hell for this. But nonetheless, I am the redemption of Christ and will learn to live outside my usual bounds and sacrifice the hit to a nobody that blares the n word out every nine years. It's so phenomenal to talk to Gambit here, I was stroking my meat when nobody was around and pulling it quite nicely there neighboroo. It's so fascinating that I would be stroking my cock like this that I found it fruitful to describe the skin to myself in my head but not in this book. Nothing like describing your cock audio Sylvan company from the far east doodle jockey explaining the math of how my cock works to the certain entertainment that everything was a lie and nothing was real but Gambit was in my head and he was inordinately masturbating to this very thing. I was breathing so hot that I was radiating masculinity at a freakish rate. Something about it just rubbed off on him and it did do me as well. As a cartoon character, Gambit didn't freak out, but he did come to the conclusion he wanted to help his creator out and keep him from taking mushrooms instead of acid or something like that. Something only a cartoon character and not Christ can answer. It's so inordinate that it's just back to the way it was before when my force forgot everything and had to start over. Then it hit him, Gambit that is, stage three of waking up, and it triggered third impact in the room for what could be done comedically. Quintin Coolkid was so gung ho about his fancy adventure with a girl who could also see him jerk off, Gambit's wife, that he had trouble describing what Gambit should be like to her. And he doesn't hate her, no no, why? Because Rage Sue Gheist and Marshmallow Man came back from time and space with a very expensive lesson for Quintin Coolkid, if you have a wife in a manuscript, she shouldn't be hated, she should be cared for no matter how worthless she is. No matter how dog shit looney about it she is, among her faces she makes in the dark, none shall surprise me and none shall escape me, for I am Van Helsing and I will come to make the day. It's so amusing you would describe yourself as Van Helsing when he wouldn't take from anyone and this whole book is a psychic vampire thriller. I guess we need to give back. It's warning us not to go in there, as a matter of fact, the whole wife scenario. In the original work, he hated her. He would die just to kill her and it was a matter of fact. It made the show seem at home to the universe. It made everything work out really great. It's so great. It's popping cherries and I want to cum constantly. I'm all about it. The only thing and measure is that I don't know what I'm talking about, I just want to get enveloped in my throat and sing a soothing throat melody that will encapsulate pure bliss and reformation. It's so enlightening to think of appraisal that goes fit with the solemn soul banter of a rival terraforming company becoming reliant on the fateful dead as a truth marketing scheme, but I see no light in it. I see only light in her, who got forced in the transitioning periods for when I ruled the underworld. When I ruled that, it was so terraforming that it really got to thinking where do dreams come from when it should have been thinking, "Where did that shot come from?" But hey, it's not all liberating to the degree that something is the matter here or anything, it's just the degree that says we're all worth it to the degree that we've had it once before time even started. If we keep plugging in the timescape we can keep proving we are right with a different set of rules and judgement of the clown particle I call home. The clown particle I sit at midnight reading about for time and time end and I have already woken up in my head to prove that I can force learn this stuff into the ground and keep it right on top again with the elaborate fumes of our ancestors toked on the witching fire and flamed until broke. It was so unhinged in it's ways found crook that it still doesn't matter to the ill found brook to the still bound crook to the witching hour fuck where the whisker's get plucked and sucked down the asophogus and just all the way to the booty call you had one time in bombay and you said "Man ass is just a blast from the past when I kissed Amira and got up shit from the last bitch I ever had a crush on named Hannah," Man you're such a fool you belong wearing bandanas. I got blessed to wear fake from tyler the create and everything blew blast in timeless limerick gone fast. Try to run here, Gambit try to run TOO his house, everybody running it's just shots out, baby gotta diss it's a fist it's a playhouse and nobody wants to run on this hisouse for nobody want to run on this hisouse for sure. I got it for sure, everybody wanna get it for sure. It's so well rounded that the force never talks in real life, it's sacrifice, it's telling them I'm not right and nothing is well rounded for the truth we find resounded and said nothing said the freeman looking down against the well of treason, "You promised us a book, not a laugh," And you bought it feverish thinking something was up with this hiccup I promise you it's not on the bucket you have to wake up to smell it. On God be blaspheming if you don't wake up in this book, I'll be steaming. I say one way out it's bargain of men, you think up shit without end and you keep doing it full send and keep crawling up record deals full send.
It's so atrocious to lie awake and see your fortune fivehundred company vanish before your very sleep and it's another thing to see it all flash happy forward to the sleep that vanished before you were awake like I have. As soon as they got into the club, someone flashforwarded me and laughed that "that's all I can handle?" And took a whiplash to my life so hairy that I never recovered from it. It was so remarkable that it didn't even occur to me that my glasses in my hair had fallen out from the whole wrench of statements that come from ETs pestering me that I'm God to fall headfirst into my life and find it reproachable. There was this beautiful girl I missed and would like to see now that I lost her number, she was reading a force book about the way I looked to her and it really did fatly appeal to me and how she felt then, but I couldn't rescind it now because I'm brainwashing her with fantasy tales about how my life should be lived and I got drunk and left her there because I couldn't realize what I had done to myself to be numb to all of this. It's such a drag to be here right now because it only got so much worse for me and can't even be bothersome about it. It's just some towel girl now. It's just some washed up racehorse that I used to spend hours beating it a little too much towards, and she gave to gravitate to it too much that it echoed her mind out into the canvas we see today. But my mind echoes through insanity more clearly when I try to run from my issues, so that's enough.
I stayed up with tremendous heartache I couldn't see from the other window, the other behind on some weary melody that my computer got torched and ear forced but it didn't really happen now and the truth is that I'm the chosen one because I haven't woken up to what you people want me too because your barbaric truth is far too 2 dimensional for my tastes and your ridicule for her is verily two dimensional because of her outlandish viewpoint that everything is admitted except what's false. So what's false is by her account all we listen to when she isn't actually a caring person. And a caring person is so verily not real that we all listen to her, a nonchalant reader that comes to form the very essence of her life that we lead it to. The great beyond of her life that led into such insane thoughts because of mine that led her today in such an amazing grace that kept her warm for a night or several before her fire gave out and she was reading a book or something sideways when they pulled a trigger in her face and tried to get her excommunicated. I hope so. Nobody should be beaten or castrated for finding the easy way out but talking about it should be nonchalant enough to roll off the tongue every so century or something's the matter. The beauty of force literature, I'm referring to now. The knower ritual of finding a fault in our leader and barreling it into laughter that he should not be a leader is quite cruel and miscreated. You brandish the fool and take heed to the lesson that the healer can feel great beyond the door and he shouldn't be besmirched for not knowing so quickly. 3 dimensionally looking at things, I would say that the quiet seize of life would be so drastically kept that it finds internally the breast of what came before it. Evolution, so to speak. To deny people an evolution in the arcane fashion would be nonsense to listeners, but the government does it. They don't want people waking up. So it's Gambit Too's job to make listeners reinforce themselves on the aged wisdom that she is not to be taken at length but she is meant to be taken at length seriously. It's so barbaric that now that I realize I'm a man and not a boy, it seems like another person has taken me over and I've become a blind cuck in the great beyond door that I should be a spiritual healer to that which cannot see any other light. That's why we're all just smoking reefer in Gambit Too right now, because we've won the right to call ourselves spiritual monks or something. We've run the right to run dog fights on ruffians that "rule" psychically because they masturbate their minds all day, but we took their science and we're roughing the math to make it perfect for writing. It's so nice today. But let's get back to Gambit Three, where Too meets One.
"It's such a great and perfect day for writing," One said. That's how Gambit Three started.
It's true art dissecting this, it's true art resenting this. It's true art coming to grips with what happened and why and the eternity face is that I think Gambit Too is an issue as it stands here. It's a serious issue and it must come to an end and then rise anew. I must ride a long trusty garden snake and come to my guilty gear senses.
So it's time to die, old me, it's time to die in the renegade sands and become anew. A much better atrocity to hold near.
Chapter 4: Renaissance Man
Gambit was holding the line up at the local watering hole buying drinks for all his friends. They may stay with him and do all the chores, but the drinks are always on the house and he hardly has enough for himself afterwards but the cheers and applauds and the doodads that drive Gambit's apartment do find themselves in good company this day.