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By Vonnegut Frey

 

AND NOW FOR THE #1 BEST STORY OF THE MAGAZINE WITH EVERYONE’S FAVORITE SHORT CTHULHU-ESK MONSTER, MIKE!

 

Content warning: This story is absolutely too incredible for human minds to read without their tiny carbon-based brains exploding in a spectacular fashion. So humans… do not read unless you wish for your final moments to be spent in complete and utter bliss. 

 

     Standing on a gargoyle atop a skyscraper, lightning flashes behind me. 

     My trench coat and tentacles flap in the wind. 

     Smoking my bubble pipe, I tip down the fedora on my large, brilliant cranium. (Editor’s Note: Compared to his shrimpy-ass body)

     I know what you’re wondering: how did I, Mike, the runt of the pack, elder god, and awesomeness extraordinaire become the greatest person to ever live. 

     It’s simple really… I was always the greatest. But don’t worry feeble humans, I, Mike, will take pity on you and give you the only tip you will ever need on your long journey to becoming number two: Be more like me!

     I can see that in this week’s issue of the world’s best magazine, (I’m in it aren’t I?) the pages are full of cool vigilantes and edgy characters.

     I, Mike, am not cool, ‘cause of course, I have transcended onto a level far beyond cool. I am uber rad. As for edginess, Batman, Dorian Grey, The Punisher, they’ve got nothing on me. 

     My backstory is far superior. Your parents died, Batman, try your entire species. I suppose Superman also has that backstory, but he never met his race. I did. So I guess that means I’m extra Superman. (Editor’s Note: Yeah, if Superman couldn’t muster enough strength to open a door). Superman was lucky anyway. Everyone I knew back then was a jerk.

     So I, Mike, the uber rad, edgy guy’s story is perfect for this greatest of magazines. This story begins with me in my man cave, (Editor’s note: His roommate’s Sh**y apartment) chilling out, and doing cool guy things (Editor’s note: Losing at video games) when my mustached human roommate Jerry walks in and asks me to go into the office and turn in his paperwork for him. Jerry’s a nice guy, but he’s clumsy and not that bright. For example, he thinks you should eat on plates instead of eating the plates themselves. Crazy right? Jerry told me, “All humans use plates this way.”

     And I responded by telling him, “I don’t find that very surprising because humans aren’t that bright, and why would you care that much anyway because you always drop the plates and break them anyway.” Back to the story though. When Jerry asked me to turn in his paperwork, I was tempted to remind him that he is my minion, not the other way around, but I decided that instead, I, Mike, in my infinite kindness and humbleness, would do this small favor instead. 

     At the office, I decided to take an innovative new path to the paperwork drop-off (Editor’s note: He got lost) AND ASKED THE EDITOR TO STOP TELLING THE AUDIENCE LIES! (Editor’s Note: Ok I’ll Stop) On the way there, I got envious sneers from jealous coworkers,  similar to how the editor has been doing it here. They didn’t hurt my feelings, of course, (Editor’s note: Yes they did) ლ(ಠ益ಠლ) (Mike’s note: Die fighting this angry emoticon,  Editor!) but they did bring to mind how my entire race is, and how because of that, I would never be able to talk with someone as great as me ever again. Struck by this sudden realization, I needed to do something about it. I deserved to have the company of someone nearly as amazing as I. So I did what I do whenever I have a problem, I got a spellbook from the basement and performed dark magic!

     Flipping through the book there wasn’t much of use: a spell to make you beautiful, a spell to make you good at everything, a spell to make you all powerful and able to rule the world. Those were all traits I already possessed. Then I found what I needed: a duplication spell. So I prepared the ritual and cast the spell. Wind whirled around me and I could feel my body stretching. It hurt a lot, but eventually, my two halves ripped apart and grew into two separate Mikes. My clone and I stared at each other. It was silent. This is what I looked like? I had a stunted, shriveled body. My head took up half my height, and my wings were only inches tall. I was beautiful! I couldn’t stop admiring myself. I’m sure my clone admired me more though. 

     Eventually, Jerry walked in and broke the silence. “Hey, Mike are you there? I was worried sick about youuuu…” His eyes darted from one of us to the other, and I am certain that our combined greatness was too much for my poor feeble-minded friend to handle. That’s why he fainted and fell face-first onto the floor.

     This was enough to stir me from my daze, so I extended my hand and said, “Hello, I’m Mike, the greatest one.”

     My clone got up, and pointed at me, “What? No! I’m Mike, the greatest one.”

     “In that case, then I’m the greatest-er one.”

     “Then I’m the greatest-est one!” Then we both said simultaneously, “Hey! Who do you think the original is here anyway?”

     “Well, it’s obviously me.”

     “It’s me, you’re the number two.”

     Now it’s time for I, Mike, the smartest person to ever live to tell you that if two exact copies of someone with the same physical and mental abilities fought, it would last forever.  Luckily for me, we didn’t have the exact same abilities because I was better. That’s why I punched my clone in the face. Then the greatest fight in the universe began! Me and my clone exchanging blows with infinite skill and speed. We grappled each other and rolled back and forth across the room. Eventually, my clone got tired though and called for a breather.” “Huff, Huff, how do I dispel this clone anyway?” I asked, picking up the spellbook to check:

 

A CLONE CAN ONLY BE DISPELLED BY THE CASTER LOOKING AT THEMSELF AND SEEING THEMSELF FOR WHO THEY TRULY ARE.

 

     “Well, that’s easy! I, Mike, am the greatest one in existence!” With that, I looked back and the clone was gone. It worked! 

     That brings us to now, dear reader, where I am editing this stupid magazine editor’s mistakes. They had assured me that they were the best editor in the business, but all they’ve done so far is spew blatant envious lies. I wonder who they are anyway. (Editor’s note: Well, wonder no longer, because I am none other than Mike the greatest one!) “You again? I dispelled you.”

      “You tried, but you failed because you weren’t the greatest one, number two, I am!”

      “You’re my clone though so why did you say those lies in your editor’s notes?”

      “They weren’t lies. You’re weak and pathetic, while I’m perfect!”

     “Despite your complete wrongness, how did you defeat my emoticon? He was a hardened warrior chosen by yours truly.”      

     “I don’t know. He never showed up.” BOOM!  ლ(ಠ益ಠლ) Oh my slightly less great Cuthulu, he’s here! Sorry reader, but I must stop this, the best of narratives, for now. I have an angry Emoticon to defeat. Stay tuned to read the next issue of 

 

THE #1 BEST STORY OF THE MAGAZINE WITH EVERYONE’S FAVORITE SHORT CTHULHU-ESK MONSTER, MIKE!