SUPERLOOZ, LORD OF DESTRUCTION™—
was falling out of the sky…
instead of a busted tin can
piloted by two certified morons.
The Z-P-N-E-S plunged downward in zigzags, spirals, death-drops, panic-jumps,
occasionally pausing to kiss the tops of buildings,
as though collecting postcards.
SKRRRRRRRR—WHAM!
There went half the roof of the Save&Pray™ bank.
But things got truly catastrophic
when the ship took the wrong descent corridor.
Every single pilot always enter from the east.
The Z-P-N-E-S entered from the north.
Meaning it went straight into the ass-end of the skyscrapers.
Inside the cockpit:
“ZEROS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’?!
NOT THE SHOPPING DISTRICT—THERE ARE PEOPLE AND DISCOUNTS!”
The Z-P-N-E-S swung into a sideways arc,
raked through four giant holographic billboards,
and detonated them in a glitter-storm of sparks, debris,
and whatever passes for “quality control” at these corporations.
One billboard managed to purr:
"VALENTINA SECRET™—BECOME THE PERFECT DOLL!"Then the ship stabilized upright,
shot across a park,
and clipped the monumental statue of Peace & Reconciliation™,
knocking it into a majestic, unwanted retirement flight
somewhere deep inside a museum archive.
Blindy screamed:
“OH GOD, YOU KILLED PEACE!
PEACE IS DEAD, ZEROS!
YOU ACTUALLY KILLED PEACE!”
And then—
WHAM!!!
The ship smashed into the floating temple of KNOWIN’TOLOGY™.
The Z-P-N-E-S scraped its belly along the holy clouds
like a cosmic washing machine from hell,
while the meditation garden below erupted into:
• monk confetti,
• petals of unexpected violence,
• fragments of shattered gongs,
• philosophical dust,
• and one severely traumatized karmic field.
A ceremony honoring merging Macrohard™ and Quince™ was happening at that exact moment,
because of course it was.
Blindy shrieked:
“YOU KILLED MONKS, YOU PSYCHO!
MONKS! THEY’RE AS PEACEFUL AS THE WORD ‘WHATEVER’!”
The radar pinged a flying wedding platform.
“A WEDDING!
NOOOOOOOO—”
CRUNCH!
A bouquet of flaming bridal flowers
slapped across the windshield
like the universe mocking romance itself.
“YOU CRASHED INTO LOVE, YOU MORON!!!”
By now the ship shook so violently
the lights flickered like a low-budget 80s disco—
and then it plowed straight into the autonomous cloud-taxi fleet Edison™—
BEEP! BEEP! WARNING! BEEP!
KAAA BOOOOOM!
BAM BAM BAM!
PSHHH BOOOOM!
— triggering the self-destruct protocol for the entire system.
And finally:
BOOOOM!!!The Z-P-N-E-S belly-flopped into the hangar,
kicking up a storm of dust, smoke,
and corporate profanity
in at least twelve languages.
Silence followed.
Only the dry crackle of abused metal
and a deep trembling in Blindy’s soul remained.
He sat frozen, shaking,
like someone who had just been proposed to
by that alien bastard’s wife from the casino.
Behind him came a voice—
calm, patient,
and about as comforting as an unwanted pregnancy:
“Blindy…”
The silence dragged out.
Too long.
Long enough to feel fatal.
“…you are a REAL piece of shit.”
Blindy blinked.
“W-what? Why?! We… survived, ain’t we?”
Zeros leaned forward.
His gaze was a cocktail of steel, disappointment, and pure contempt.
“You.
Were.
Flying.
The ship.
YOU MORON.”
His head began to turn
like the turret of a very old, very rusty museum tank.
And then he saw it.
Zeros was sitting in the back.
In the passenger seat.
In the exact place Madeleine had sat last night.
He wasn’t even NEAR the secondary console.
Blindy looked down at his own hands.
They were still gripping the controls.
“…Oh.
Oh NO…”
His pupils expanded like two newborn black holes.
“YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT WAS ME—?!!!”
Zeros slowly nodded.
Without a molecule of mercy:
“You killed the monks.
I’m sure there’s a bounty on your stupid head by now.
You destroyed a library.
You ruined someone’s honeymoon.
You obliterated the cultural landmark ‘Unity Pie™‘.
You wiped out three cloud-taxi stations.
You crushed the memorial to the dog ‘Lucky‘.
And you demolished two high-speed traffic lanes.”
Blindy dragged his hands down his face:
“…well… you COULD’VE said something earlier.”
Zeros shrugged:
“I did. I said: don’t touch the controls.
Besides… I enjoy watching rotten meat destroy other ROTTEN meat.”
He leaned his head back against the seat and concluded:
“By the quantum uncertainty principle
and the divine sequence of Fibonacci…
I HATE YOU, BLINDY.
I HATE ALL YOU FUCKING HUMANS.”