Cervix

Cervix Bangsister watched as her city was helplessly ravaged, horrified that she might be next but feeling pretty neutral about the crumbling buildings and dying peasants. Maybe I’ll be fine, she thought wishfully. After all, the last time someone penetrated the Red Queef’s defenses, it was hundreds of years ago when the city and the kingdom were taken over by the Grandslams with their dragon army—oh, I am absolutely done for.

Cervix could only watch Dennys fly her dragon over a consecutive row of orphanages, torching them all without hesitation. No matter how much I hate that Dragon Queen, thought Cervix, I can’t help but respect the hell out of the choices she makes.

“Come to mama,” she vengefully muttered, before sorrowfully remembering that all her own prepubescent children had passed well before their time. A tear slid down her face—an important sanity check that gravity was working—and a reminder that Cervix never got the chance to teach her children about the simple joys of life: spooning each other, fucking each other, and fucking each other with spoons.

Smoke trailed behind Dragun as he zipped and soared through the sky, leaving a beautiful cursive message for all of the Strip to see: “PREPARE TO BURN: IT’S BURN O’CLOCK.” All the townspeople saw the beautiful handwriting, and although they couldn’t read, they could still deduce from the massive fires and smoking buildings that it was in fact burn o’clock and that they should prepare.

Cervix observed as Dennys flew to the last standing orphanage in the Strip: Pat’s Extra-Broke Orphanage for the Saddest and Most Tragic Kids Who Also Are Bad at Athletics.

“Gasolina!” shouted Cervix from her window, trying to beat Dennys to the punch and undermine her ever so slightly. Dragun unleashed an eruption of flames onto the building in the shape of two prospective adoptive parents shaking their heads “no” and walking out of the orphanage in the hopes of finding better kids.

Luckily, when the ornately shaped flames hit, all the children were in the orphanage’s kiddie pool and thus were saved from the hellish fires. Unluckily, none of those unathletic kids knew how to swim, so they all drowned, and every single one of them got sent straight to the seven hells because of their lame deaths.

Dennys turned her attention to the Red Queef, locking eyes with Cervix at a distance. They both knew that they were staring at each other, and neither wanted to be the first to blink, but they were both so incredibly far away that it would truly be impossible to tell if either one did. This stalemate between the queens went on for two hours.

Dennys flew to Cervix, hovering as best she could in front of her balcony, which meant she was rising and falling ten to twenty feet in the air every second with the flapping of Dragun’s wings. The result of this continuous up-and-down motion was that everything Dennys said to Cervix was constantly fluctuating in both volume and pitch.

“CERvix, it’s the END of the LINE,” said Dennys as Cervix strained her neck, rapidly looking up and down to follow her. “THE city IS rinGING the bells. THEY SURRender. NOW IT’S time YOU surrenDER! I’VE won.”

Cervix knew the Dragon Queen was right, but she didn’t want to admit it.

“Fine,” said Cervix, knowing she was out of options. “I slur blenders.”

“What?” shouted Dennys, landing on the balcony. “You have to say the actual words. Say you surrender.” To prove that she would accept nothing but the correct verbiage, Dennys unleashed another devastating stream of fire from Dragun upon the city.

“I did,” said Cervix, darting her eyes around. “I stir tenders.”

“You can’t just say stuff that sounds like ‘surrender.’ That’s not a loophole that stops you from having to surrender.”

“What loophole?” asked Cervix, unconvincingly pretending like that wasn’t her plan. “I told you already: I blur gender!”

Dragun burned down another section of the Strip.

“Fine! Yes! I was trying to use a loophole. I spur vendors! Happy?”

Another five neighborhoods set ablaze.

“Say it. Say ‘I surrender.’”

“You surrender?” asked Cervix, feeling very smart. “Well, if you insist!”

“Okay, no,” said Dennys. “Stop trying these little tricks. I have a dragon and burned your entire city down. This is purely symbolic.”

“Ugghhh,” moaned Cervix. She knew Dennys had won. “I don’t even care! I surrender. I never wanted to be queen anyway. This city sucks ass, and Westopolis is horseshit. The Pointy Chair isn’t fun to sit in. Now put your dragon to rest.”

A dark, menacing smirk came across Dennys’s face. “Very good. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Well, I’m off to continue melting the city,” announced Dennys.

“No! You promised! What point is there in further destroying a city that’s now your own?!” pleaded Cervix.

“Sorry, dear, but promises are like similes. They don’t always hold.” Dennys then whispered to herself, “Come to think of it, why should I continue burning the Strip?” She pondered for a moment. “I’m not a quitter? Yeah, sure. I’m Dennys Grandslam, and I never quit!” Dennys mounted Dragun and took off into the sky, this time as queen.

All the hate and pride in Cervix’s life began to transform toward the one goal of making it out of this situation alive. And then her goal of making it out of this situation alive began to transform into the goal of having sex with her brother one last time. Cervix ran to give the Pointy Chair one last kiss before leaving to find Lemme. To spite Dennys, she also decided to lick the chair. Immediately Cervix cut her tongue on the swords but kept licking and cutting her tongue until every inch of the chair was covered in her saliva and every inch of her tongue was covered in stab wounds. Cervix crouched down and carved her initials into the bottom of the chair, right under the heart that said “Ser Wensley + Jenny the Prostitute Forever” and just next to the “Winter Sucks!” carving and just above the carving of a busty she-dragon.

As Dennys continued her rampage and Cervix began her descent of the Red Queef’s massive staircase, Lemme found his way inside through a second hole entrance at the bottom of the palace. He lusted after Cervix, making his way deeper and deeper into the bowels of his former home. Smoke and dust from the crumbling building obscured his vision, as did the fact that his eyes and whole head were made of solid gold. To navigate, Lemme figured out that he could continually slap himself in the face, making a nice ringy-dingy noise against the metal to echolocate throughout the premises.

But such smacking attracted none other than Yourmoms Playboy, who had washed ashore when Dennys’s army defeated him and the Ironic Fleet. If Yourmoms was going to die, he was going to bully Lemme one last time and get in some final taunts and barbs.

“Oy there, Goldilocks, you wanna piece of me?” shouted Yourmoms, as he cut off his own ear and threw it at Lemme. Clang! It hit Lemme’s shiny metal head.

“What? Who goes there!” Lemme greatly increased the frequency of his head smacking to improve his echolocating capabilities.

“I said.… OY THERE, Goldilocks, you wanna PIECE of ME?!” Yourmoms doubled down, cutting off another one of his ears, becoming mostly deaf in the process. CLANG! He chucked it at Lemme; it hit him smack in the temple and let out the perfect ring. With that, Lemme was able to get a picture-perfect echolocated snapshot of his surroundings for a brief second.

And that was all he needed.

Lemme stabbed himself with a dagger and started squirting out a giant pool of blood, which he pushed Yourmoms into. It was gross. It was sticky. And it had Hep C. Yourmoms kept slipping and sliding around in the blood like a fool, humiliated.

Yourmoms used the stream of blood to slip ’n’ slide down the corridors of the Red Queef at breakneck speed, breaking his neck in the process.

“Try and catch me now, pretty boy!” shouted Yourmoms. He zipped and zoomed around crumbling corridors like a bloody penguin, somehow still alive. Thinking quickly, Lemme painted a realistic-looking tunnel to outside onto one of the walls of the palace. Yourmoms promptly slid himself into it headfirst. His thick skull smashed through dozens of meters of bricks, causing further structural instability to the already crumbling palace. He was dazed, but he wouldn’t give up on getting some great last insults in on Lemme. Using a dull brick, Yourmoms carved a slit down the side of his thigh and removed his femur with his bare hands.

“Look!” shouted Yourmoms, sloppily throwing his femur at Lemme. “Now I can say I’ve boned Cervix and Lemme Bangsister!”

“Oof,” groaned Lemme. “That was really bad.”

“Yeah, Goldilocks, I made sweet, sugary love to your Bangsister sister. I poured syrup all over our bodies, and then we feasted on the pancake of the flesh.” Yourmoms said all of this standing on the last leg of his life, tibia in hand.

Lemme knew what he said must be true. Cervix was a sucker for all things sweet—and umami. He had to win this battle, for love.

“Oh yeah? Well I took her to Philadelphia on vacation and got a honeymoon suite. You wanna know why?” asked Lemme.

Lemme got in real close, all up in Yourmoms’s stuff, and with 0.01 decibels said, “Because it’s the city of BROTHERLY fucking LOVE.”

“The only reason your moldy face can get a room with her is because you shared a womb with her. She wants a man like me, one with guts.” Yourmoms lifted his shirt and began cutting open his stomach to reveal his innards.

“Oof, your guts smell really bad, man.”

“Oh yeah?” shouted a dizzy Yourmoms, barely able to stand. “Well… my penis is uh, big! Bigger than yours!” he said, going for the cheap shot and miraculously making out words as his ear holes dumped out blood.

“What? That’s not even a joke.”

“Hm… um, okay. I had uh, um, I fucked your sister!” shouted Yourmoms as if he had just said something very clever.

“Yeah, I know. None of these are good burns.”

“You uh, um, okay, I got this… YOU had sex with your sister?”

“You’re just saying facts.”

“My uh, oh this is good, hmm, yes, oh okay. MY HEAD, hurts?”

Lemme had heard enough. He smashed his head into Yourmoms’s. Yourmoms let out a blood-curdling scream as he fell to the ground, suddenly realizing that because he’d had sex with Cervix and Lemme had also had sex with Cervix, then by the transitive property, they’d had sex with each other. Yourmoms thought he was way out of Lemme’s league.

Smashing his golden head into Yourmoms had given Lemme a perfect gong-like noise with which he was able to echolocate through the entire Red Queef. Through all the walls, halls, and chambers, Lemme was able to get a perfect position on Cervix. Latitude: 50.618952°, Longitude: 165.986255°, forty-four feet above sea level.

Lemme gave a final glance at his mangled rival and spoke words that would echo throughout the course of humankind: “I’m gonna go do incest with my sister.”

Lemme sprinted out the door as Yourmoms, on the verge of death, screamed the last insult he’d ever utter.

“Ummm, I… uhhh, you’re a big fat—no, wait, okay, you’re sooo—no that doesn’t make sense, hmm, wait,” said Yourmoms. And then Yourmoms closed his eyes forever. Minutes later, he had it: “You are a big fat.” He died content.

Lemme navigated the halls of the Red Queef, screaming for Cervix.

Cervix reached the bottom of the massive spiral staircase, distraught. She always thought there were 1,890 steps, but there were… 1,892?

As she began to climb back up the stairs for a recount, Lemme called out.

“Cervix!”

She turned around to see a battered form of the man she had always loved.

“Lemme?” her eyes filled with tears, mostly because of the dust in the wake of the building collapsing.

The two siblings embraced, holding each other as the Red Queef continued to collapse. Bricks, anvils, and pianos fell from what felt like the sky but was actually the brick, anvil, piano, and banana peel storage room collapsing one floor above them.

A doorway to the wide-open courtyard where they’d be safe from the building collapse was mere feet away. Both Bangsisters wanted to run through it, but neither wanted to ruin the moment, so they stood still and kept making out.

Cervix leaned in to give her war-torn brother a final, parting kiss.

“Until we meet again, death makes us all into children once more,” muttered Cervix, as she closed her eyes for the big finale.

Lemme moved his head in way too fast, knocking Cervix hard on the noggin and chipping a few of her teeth.

“Ah! Sorry,” he said.

With a toothy smile, Cervix tried again: “And now, with this kiss, my beauty will sleep forever.”

Cervix took the lead this time, leaning in to suck her brother’s big, shiny metal face.

ZAP! A huge arc of electric current shot from Lemme’s lips to Cervix’s. All that running around with Yourmoms had built up a formidable amount of static electricity.

More pianos and anvils fell from the upper levels of the Red Queef, trapping the lovers inside a stony, musical tomb. Cervix was fried but gave it one more go.

“Our… our love is like a zoo: enclosed, animalistic, fucked up. Now, kiss me.”

Lemme leaned in. This time nothing could interrupt them. They both gave each other a mediocre last kiss with way too much tongue.

And with that, the Red Queef let out its final sigh, collapsing fully to the ground, delighting the Bangsisters with the shared smooch of death.