Scene: A council meeting in the Multiverse Association for Orderly Absurdities. The council includes Zoot (radiating inappropriate passion), the orangutan-Trump (wielding an executive order stapler), Frigidor Dalek (holding a surrealist art protest sign), Satan in his “World’s Best Dad” T-shirt, and Elon the muskrat (chewing wires). They're tasked with resolving a cosmic dispute: a black hole that's been hoarding space debris has refused to pay its multiverse taxes.
Chairperson Orangutan-Trump: pounding the table
“This black hole? Bad. Very bad. It’s the WORST I’ve ever seen. I mean, people are saying—well, I’m saying—it’s a tremendous disgrace. Bigly disrespectful. Not paying taxes? SAD!”
Zoot: leans dramatically over the table toward Frigidor Dalek
“Ohhh, Frigidor, dearest! What passion you must feel about this swirling vortex of unrepentant cosmic greed! Tell us—how does it stir the cold steel of your existential soul?”
Frigidor Dalek: gesturing at a melted clock stapled to his chassis
“TIME IS IRRELEVANT. THE BLACK HOLE MUST BE EXTERMINATED, BUT ONLY AFTER I HAVE PAINTED ITS DESTRUCTION AS AN ODE TO COSMIC CHAOS.”
Elon the Muskrat: hanging upside-down from the ceiling, gnawing on a fibre-optic cable
“Uh, excuse me—can we just plug the black hole into a Neuralink? It’ll solve the problem by uploading its consciousness to my new platform: X² Infinity™. Also, I call dibs on monetising its event horizon.”
Satan: sipping iced tea, unconcerned
“Why bother? Hell could use a new attraction. ‘Black Hole Express: Where Hope Sucks More than the Ride.’ I’ll even throw in themed T-shirts: ‘I Got Spaghettified, and All I Got Was This Lousy Singularity.’”
Chairperson Orangutan-Trump: snatches Satan’s tea
“This is NOT about lousy shirts, Satan! This is about leadership—my leadership! And I lead the BEST councils. Everyone says so.”
Zoot: now throwing roses at the black hole image on the hologram screen
“Oh, dark and mysterious void, take us! You devour all with such fervent inevitability! We are but humble spectators to your consuming magnificence!”
Frigidor Dalek:
“THIS SENTIMENT IS NONSENSE. ROSES MUST BE FREEZED AND ENCASED IN RESIN TO PRESERVE THEIR TRUE ABSURDITY.”
Elon the Muskrat: sniffing Zoot’s perfume bottle
“Wait, is that… Star Musk™? It smells like… starlight and regret.”
Chairperson Orangutan-Trump:
“Enough! This council is a disaster. I’ll make my own deal with the black hole. It’ll be a YUGE deal, and it’ll pay billions. You’ll all see!”
The council is mid-argument when the chamber doors burst open, and a dozen giggling maidens from the Castle Anthrax prance in, led by Zoot's twin Dingo.
Zoot: gasps dramatically, clutching her chest
“Sisters! You’ve come! Oh, how we’ve yearned for a gathering of such… naughty magnificence! Shall we baptise this moment in the fires of improper decorum?”
Chairperson Orangutan-Trump: flustered, waving his arms
“Who are these people? Security! Somebody call security! This is a very serious council. Tremendously serious. You can’t just giggle your way in here!”
Dingo: fanning herself with a scroll titled "The Forbidden Chronicles of Naughty Dimensions"
“Oh, but we can! And we did! Such naughty rules were meant to be broken, were they not?”
Frigidor Dalek: frantically spinning in a circle
“ALERT! ALERT! FEMININE CHAOS DETECTED. I AM OVERHEATING. THIS DOES NOT COMPUTE.”
Maidens: gather around Frigidor Dalek, stroking his cold metallic shell
“Ooooh, what a darling tin man! But why so chilly? Surely you must have a heart somewhere inside that adorable casing.”
Frigidor Dalek:
“I HAVE NO HEART. ONLY A MINIATURE FREEZER UNIT FOR MY BEER. PLEASE CEASE YOUR SENSORY ASSAULT!”
Zoot (from Castle Anthrax): ignoring the chaos, focuses on the black hole hologram
“Ohhh, look, sisters! The ultimate void! How irresistibly… naughty! Shall we leap into it and see where it takes us?”
Satan: now surrounded by maidens offering him grapes and stroking his "World’s Best Dad" T-shirt
“Ahhh, this is more like it. Ladies, you’re welcome to hell any time. I’ll even upgrade your accommodations to the VIP Lava Lounge. No extra charge.”
Chairperson Orangutan-Trump: pounding his desk
“This is a disgrace! The biggest disgrace! You’re distracting us from very important work. I was about to make a perfect deal with the black hole!”
Dingo: leans in close to Trump, batting her eyelashes
“Deal, you say? Tell us, dear orangutan, does your deal involve… spanking?”
Trump: turning bright orange-red, clutching his tie
“Spanking?! No! Absolutely not! This is about taxes and leadership and tremendous greatness!”
Elon the Muskrat: dangling from the ceiling, looking oddly intrigued
“Actually, spanking might be a good motivational tool. I can design a Neuralink module for it. Call it… SpankLink™.”
Frigidor Dalek:
“SPANKING IS HIGHLY ILLOGICAL. HOWEVER… IT DOES APPEAR TO REDUCE COSMIC ENTROPY IN THIS INSTANCE.”
Zoot (from Castle Anthrax): climbing onto the table, waving a feather boa
“Fear not, dear council! We shall handle the black hole with the delicate touch of maidens well-versed in the art of forbidden frolic!”
The maidens erupt into giggles, forming a conga line that snakes through the chamber, distracting everyone except the black hole hologram, which ominously pulses as if... entertained.
Frigidor Dalek:
“THE CONGA LINE IS INFECTIOUS. I AM EXPERIENCING THE URGE TO JOIN.”
Dingo: tugging Frigidor’s plunger arm
“Come now, darling! Let loose! Shall we conga our way into the black hole?”
Chairperson Orangutan-Trump: throws his hands up in defeat
“This meeting is a disaster! The WORST meeting in history. I’m leaving. Someone call me when the black hole agrees to pay up!”
Satan: leaning back, a maiden feeding him strawberries
“Let the chaos flow, folks. It’s all hell anyway!”
