EPILOGUE

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The dust began to settle, not sure where it came from, but it was settling all right. We did it, no, I did it. Test was just kind of there, I really did all of the heavy lifting per the norm.  I had just realized the gravity of what we just did. We killed the writer, so, guess I'll have to narrate from now on. This is Fries speaking btw, I wasn't sure how to say that organically. I'm also not sure how to end this book either, maybe we should have asked the author dude what he had planned before we enacted first degree murder on him.
  But it was a little too late for regrets I guess. We won though, saved the world or whatever. Now we could go follow our dreams and stuff. Maybe I'll become a world-renowned bachelor. "Hey I wanna become a bachelor!" Test interjected, of course he could never become such a thing though; he didn't have the same charisma as I did. Nevertheless he and I would go on to rebuild this island from its shambles. The massacre had left its once green grass still green, as most of the carnage had already despawned. I was thinking of turning it into a glorious empire, a fortress of complete isolation. Walls a mile high, and automatic machine gun turrets decorating them. I'd finally have some peace and quiet around here. But Test wasn't all about my cool world domination/bachelor idea. He wanted to establish something more humble, a village. A hubworld for all memes to gather together and take refuge. Personally, I thought the idea was cringe with a capital C, but if it meant he'd finally stop me following around, I was willing to let him go through with it. But in the meantime, we just decided to take a moment to bask in our glorious awesome victory. Which was totally poggers, by the way.
  After it all, I was proud. Proud I had achieved something. I wondered if my father would be too. Of course, he had so many missing and unexcused absences at this point that he was surely expelled from this plane, but perhaps, somewhere beyond the faults, in the stars, he was looking down, probably remarking: "Wow Son, I never took you as the cold-blooded serial killer type, but shoot dang, you do a mighty good job of it, and you look pretty wizard doing it." Yeah, he'd probably have said something like that. Test gazed longingly into the horizon, a horizon they had freed, and pondered, "Ya know, maybe someday we'll get to find out what this key is for, and I'll forge my own path,  I might even be the main character of my own story too, perchance."
    Test was right, maybe he would be. It didn't matter what became of him, I was just happy it was over with. There was something I found though, something I had neglected to inform Test about, as he probably wouldn't understand, or would say something stupid like, "You shouldn't steal things that don't belong to you." But what he didn't know wouldn't worry him. I pulled it quietly out of my pocket, and glanced the object over. It was a pen, why yes, it definitely was. But what kind of pen? The tip, while obviously well worn, was still as sharp as my father's blade, and had plenty of ink left to boot, the other side, an eraser, which oddly looked as though it'd never seen use. Was this what the Author was using? It looked so... simple. Not anything like the complex mirriad of spells and illusions he casted against us. That wasn't all I had found in the wreckage of his charred remains though, there was also a small notepad, which appeared just as unassuming as the pen. Flaunting a basic black cover, featuring only the green silhouette of a crown in the middle to break up the void of darkness. I opened it, and stared at the complete recordings of everything we'd done thus far, the cave, the market, Bobby's severe allergic condition, everything. I flipped page after page, each one less detailed than the last, until finally, I'd reached the end. "The last thing I could hear were a few piano chords from some song I'd never heard of before, and then everything went black." It was the last line of the notebook, a line I didn't recall ever hearing. There was still plenty of paper left however, and to my surprise, the remaining pages were almost completely blank, almost. It was that "almost" that intrigued me more than anything. One word, one word graced the proceeding  page in a loud, bold font. Annoyingly, I couldn't erase this word no matter how hard I tried, which was really triggering my OCD. Was this just the scribbles of a dying Author, Or something more intentional? I wasn't sure. It was a cute notebook nevertheless, one that most definitely harbored no demonic properties or abnormalities. Maybe I could use this for drawing, I could draw that imposing castle I was planning, hidden away in the tundra, far away from any obnoxious memes.

Thanks for playing.

And can I please just get one more extension?

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