AN: I try too hard, and not at all. It cancels itself out, and I'm left with nothing. Well, nothing I'm proud of.

Funny thing is, I still end up posting it on the internet. Why? Why do I put up such horrible things in a place where people from all around the world can see it?

...meh, heck if I know. For now, at least, It makes me laugh and get a kick out of it.

I've said it before, I'll type it again. Your pain is my pleasure, I delight in raising your blood pressure.

Swinging my legs atop the altar, humming and eating, while life felt exactly how it had for a long time.

Beautiful. Or, at least, in comparison to how life had been before the second sun rose into the sky.

I was listening to music, (self-made) eating something I'd rather not think about, (good thing I found some dry-rub in the back) and I had plenty of time to enjoy the lovely art that decorated the walls, hand-made by yours truly. (Though a few of the pieces were missing, or rather, I knew exactly where they were, but I don't want to think about it)

Outside, the morning sun had just risen on a new day. Birds were singing, clouds were drifting, light filtered in through the beautiful window, and warmed this chilled room.

"Hmm, mmm, mmm, hmhm, mmm."

Of course, there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Something rather urgent.

Since two hours ago, the banging on the door had stopped. Which, leads me to what woke me up this fine summer morning.

Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming. A couple splatters, a few, wet, squelching noises, and you can imagine what happened. A few unlucky passers-by had been ripped to pieces. At first when the banging stopped and the calls for help began, I looked out through the convenient holes in the door.

First, the humans tried to run. They were quickly overrun by the unfortunately extremely light monsters, (they weren't burdened by arms you see.) and soon a feast was held. A very bloody, morally wrong, feast.

Not that I'm one to talk...

It's been roughly an hour since the screams had stopped. Imagining what kinda things could have made them scream like that for an entire hour, all while still keeping them alive...well, lets just say I thought up some new things to try on bi-Luke, next time I see him.

"Nomnom mmm nomnom."

Ah...so peaceful...so serene...so unapocolyptic.

...

...something feels wrong. What's happening outside? I wanna go and look, but then what if I see something that makes me throw-up? I mean, I'm confident in my stomach so I doubt I'd do that, but I don't want to go through the whole process of eating these ar-uh, 'chicken' arms all over again. Though, I have gotten sort of used to the taste. Now it's like bland shit, instead of the fresh stuff.

Now that I can make a comparison like that, I feel truly sad for myself...

*Beep beep*

My phone vibrated. I almost choked on the ar...'chicken' arm in my mouth. I took a look. Oh hey, it's my good buddy anon again! Wonder what lovely thing he'll say to me?

You're fucked.

-Anon

...

I hoped off the altar, and put my phone away before I could throw it at the ground. I took a look around for something to beat on something else, and conveniently found a super-sharp home-made handy-dandy spear of death, with top-quality material, taken from the newest of mop handles and the freshest of monster claws, secured via your all-purpose tape.

I'm being sarcastic, in case it wasn't blatantly obvious.

Picking up the spear in one hand, I looked around for hopefully a just as convenient thing to beat on. And, whadda ya know?

The doors flew from their hinges, and landed a couple feet in front of me. From the door-way, a small, brown-haired male monster walked in. Not much was unusual about him, just, you know. The GIGANTIC, FUCKING, WINGS, on his back.

Yea, you know. Pretty much common-place, you know?

I'm not pissed off. I'm not angry. I don't have issues. Well, maybe the last one...I have just one, teeny, tiny, eensy, problem.

Why, the FUCK, does he!? get wings!!!

I'm the one who keeps falling off of shit! What is he gonna use them for, to wipe off his hands with? Fuckin unbelievable. He probably wipes his ass with them, just to rub it in my face.

Well. Confucious, I know you taught peace and knowledge, but for now, I'm gonna get a little bit stupid...or was it violent...? ...whatever.

Wait!

...I just thought of something.

I looked at my right hand. Well, would you look at that! A very convenient bird whacker! Oh, but what's that over there in the doorway...? Well, if you couldn't guess, it's a big-ass pigeon!

"I'll make tape out of you."

Pigeon-boy grinned, and took a running leap.

---

Fuck stars. Fuck lamps. Fuck eyelashes. Fuck birthday candles. Fuck rainbows. Fuck wells. Fuck dandelions. Fuck wishbones.

Why do I suddenly hate all of these random objects? Because wishes are fake.

I wish for powers. My gun breaks. I wish for wings. A freakin monster sprouts them, out of the blue. What should I wish for next, perhaps a truck? That way one might run me over!

Pigeon Boy gave his wings a boastful flap, and headed straight for me, his body horizontal to the ground. I spread my legs, bent my knees, gripped my home-made bird whacker in both hands over my head, and let my teeth show.

"A little birdie once told me it's painful to get clipped.

I hope this hurts!"

Swinging the bird whacker down, I cut off half his right wing. The claw slashed through like a charm. Felt like I swatted a bug. Maybe I should rename Bird Whacker?

I turned around, expecting a one-winged little shit. What'd I get? A two-winged little shit. Life is unfair sometimes.

Did I miss? But I felt and saw it slash through...

Pigeon Boy didn't have a mark on him. And he still had that stupid grin. He began walking over, and spread his claws. It would've looked more intimidating if he wasn't barely an inch taller than me, but I think the large wings on his back served to make him look bigger.

...ah. I see. He's compensating for something. *cough, shorty, cough*

How about I cut him down a peg? I mean, another one. He comes in swinging from both sides, I duck my head and step forward. Now, this isn't really what someone with a spear should be doing. They should be keeping their distance, right? I mean, aganst someone with a short-range, I'd have the advantage! So why would I do a silly thing like get right into his prime strikezone...? Well...?

...

Now, can you tell me? Cause I don't have a clue why anyone would do an idiotic thing like that. Seems like they've got a deathwish or something.

Wait. Deathwish? To wish for death?

Ah! I just realized! There is a wish I can get granted!

I bring my hands up to celebrate my new discovery, but unfortunately for Pigeon Boy, I was holding newly-dubbed Bird Impaler, which happened to go up through the bottom of his jaw and into his brain, out the skull. The funny thing is, I lifted him, impaled bird and all, and it felt light as a feather!

What was it about feathers, birds, together, and fire? I can't remember, but it was awesome, I'm certain.

Pigeon Boy was frothing at the mouth and twitching, probably because of the spear in his cranium. I know I'd get the hiccups from a large object impaled in my brain. Or something like that.

What does the brain do, again? I forget.

I gave Bird Impaler a swing, and off Pigeon Boy flew once again, except not so gracefully, and also his skull got cracked at the end. Mm, as good as shish kebab is, I've had enough of eating things off of sticks. I mean, I didn't necessarily need to impale all of those ar-...uh, 'turkey' arms, but it made me feel like it was somewhat closer to food, and not, you know, an abomination of all of my morals and a disgrace to my family and upbringing. Little stuff like that.

Oh, looks like Pigeon Boy is back on his feet, all healed and raring to go. Funny, usually monsters take a minute, but he took ten seconds. Hm, then, if past experience serves, he'll just get better and better at not getting cut, and eventually it'll be impossible.

Hmm...as much as I'd like to take a pick of my middle finger and send it to that anon guy, he does manage to convey a lot in few words. I have to respect that, at least. Oh wait! I think I have a second here while the murderous pigeon gets untangled from the pews...

Let's see...zero, zero, zero, three. Camera, picture, aim it...and done! Sent.

I put my phone back in my pocket, after taking a selfie with my most offensive finger next to my smiling face, I feel pretty good. What was I doing again...?

Oh, right! Pigeon Boy! I totally forgot!

I turn around as fast as I can, and whoops...

...guess I'll have to re-dub my spear. Bird Decapitator it is. Hm, that head is really rolling far...

I take a minute while Pigeon Boy runs after his head to open my phone again and check my messages. Let's see...Oh! Mister anon replied!

I get the feeling you aren't taking this seriously.

-Anon

Ah, I can't understand him. Can't a guy take a joke?

As Pigeon Boy comes back, head reattached, I give Bird Decapitator two swings. I can imagine the poping sound the arms made as they fell off. I wrapped my arm around Pigeon Boy, flipped the phone around, and gave the bird a good pair of bunny ears. He tried to take a bite out of me, so I gave him a kick. Walking back in front of the altar, I open MEME-MAKERX and put a caption under the photo I just took. I hit send, and look back up.

Pigeon boy is still flailing around, trying to put his arms back on, but being without arms in the first place, he's having a tough time. Looking back at my phone, anon has already sent a reply.

Under my awesome picture, captioned, "What makes you think that?" was an ellipses. Hah!

I put my phone back in my pocket, and look up. Uh-oh, Pigeon boy looks like someone just took a shit on his windshield. Oh, the sweet, sweet irony. He's opening and closing his mouth, with a myriad of sounds coming out. Eventually, I can make out one word.

"Die..."

Then he takes a leap, and starts flying at me. You know, I've been doing pretty good on the stupid so far, but I don't think it's enough. What could I do in this situation, that could make it stupider?

Why, drop Bird Un-Limber!

Pigeon Boys' eyes follow my home-made spear as it totters to the ground, so he misses when I grab his outstretched arms with my left arm. Without stopping his momentum, capitalizing on it, in fact, I turned to the side, and reach up with my right hand, placing it on the back of Pigeon Boys' head. Then I let go with my left arm, and put all of my strength into my right.

With the sound of one rock being smashed into a much bigger, much harder rock, Pigeon Boys' head splats into the altar so hard, it breaks in two!

...this feels like the perfect time to call him a wedding-crasher, and yet I don't think it works. Oh well. He doesn't seem too bothered with a smashed head, his headless body is flailing on the ground, while the head is starting to reform. Well, better work quick, huh.

I pick up Bird Whatever, and step on Pigeon Boys' back. I make sure to trap his arms under his body, then take a swing at his wings.

Sure, they cut like paper, but it's like they're made of mist. The second the spear cuts through it, even while I'm cutting with the blade, the place behind the spear is healing. Strange. I wonder if I can touch it?

I drop Bird Something, again, and grab Pigeon Boys' left wing with both hands. Feels like cotton candy, like it'll tear with a squeeze. But, that won't stop him from healing.

...hm...

Ah! I know, I'll do what you do with weeds!

Tear it out by the roots.

Reaching towards the base of the wing, feeling around the muscle on Pigeon Boys' back, I found the one that connected to the wing. Taking a firm grasp, I put my left foot just under it. I begin to strain.

Ah, it's impossible-is what a smart person would think. It's a good think I'm not...that...thing, which is good at math and stuff. Yeah. What?

I kept pulling. My arms feel like they're coming out of their sockets, and my legs is cramping. Ah, it really is imp-oh hey. I heard a ripping sound.

"♪Pull, pull, pull their wing! Pull, until, they scream! Rip, and shred, and tear it off, cause I like the way they yell!♪"

*Riiiiiiip!*

I almost fell over as it came off. I gave a sigh of relief, and moved to the right one. Well, time to sing my ripping song again!♪

---

I'd secured the wings with rope, and folded them up until they were roughly pillow-sized. Very light, very thin, I'm impressed Pigeon Boy could take off with them. I'd hung his arms up on the wall, next to his head. I was currently sitting on his body.

I was listening to music, (self-made) eating food, (that I don't want to think about) and enjoying beautiful life. Until I saw a cockroach.

"..."

"..."

I stared off with the little bug. Neither one of us made a move, until I slowly, slowly pulled out Long Silver. The bug was nibbling on Pigeon bits stuck in the altar cloth. I made sure a bullet was loaded, aimed, cocked, and pulled the trigger.

*Bang*

"..."

I stared at Long Silver.

"...seriously?"

I put Long Silver back in my pocket. I was resisting the urge to throw him at said altar, where a bullet had just demolished a bug, and bounced off the stone altar, resulting in sparks, which had caught the altar cloth on fire.

...huh. Guess it's time I leave. Burning human flesh I can handle, but the smell of burning cockroach just makes me sick.

As I walk out of the church, my phone buzzes. I open it up, and take a look.

I didn't expect that.

-Anon

Ah...anon, a man of few words. I ran back in just long enough to take another picture, this time of the wall. It was where I kept all of the left-arms. I adjusted the fingers, got some distance, snapped a shot, then ran back out. A real blaze had started.

Just then, I remembered. You know, the thing about feathers, birds, together, and fire.

"♪Oh-! A bird on fire is less one feather, again and again, until they're all together-! In death-!♪"

I'll have to work on the last part, maybe something about fried chicken? Honestly, I'd go for anything not raw at this point.

Behind me, a church burned to the ground. Strange. A little spark like that shouldn't have burned down a whole building, plus that was way too fast. Ah, well, who cares.

I whistled, and walked in the direction I'd last seen Luke. I had something to show him.

Turns out, I did get my wish. I've got wings and everything!

Ah~the world is a beautiful place indeed.

AN: I don't know what happened. This was supposed to be a serious, last-boss type of deal, but instead it turned into...well, this.

Whatever. I'm sleepy.