The Love Dodecahedron Duology (Book 1 + 2)

Chapter 5

Trigger warnings: very emotional and sad!!(eth)

"In vain I have strugglinged-eth. It will not do-eth. My feelings shall not be repressed. Eth. You must allow me to tell, no, show you how enthusiastically zealously totally I admire and love you."

"RAWRRRRR! GRARER!!!JAEAE~!!!!!", Grogda mewed. Her throat was dry and raspy-like from her 2 previous hours of passionate screeching. She waz so, so, so, angry !11!

How could they. How dareth they try to reason with her? Ask her to give up the only thing she was waking up at 2pm every day for, dropping her beloved surgical mask for, touching that knobblely knob of that door knobbely for?

All her life. All her life, she had spent, wishing for a world like the one she was in. Working her bottommous bottom off until she'd shed her last follicle, taking on the demanding role of Supreme Skibidi Cult Master at the young foetal age of 39 years. Grogda had spent all her living dayz hiding behind a mask of superiority, pretending, for other people, to be totally tubular and Elastoplast when she wasn't. She hadn't started living for herself until recently. And now they were asking her to destroy it in the name of benevolenciaga? Like wut? Not fire, not woke, no mood, not bussin', not goat, very cap, not lit, no bet! 🔥.

The striking colours of the flame reminded her once again of the current roast shortage, causing her to produce another steady stream of briny liquid in a search for empathy, because she wanted everyone to look at her, because she was kool.

"H-H-H-H-HH-HH-H—H-HH-H—H-H—H-H-EY E—E-E—E-E-E—E-E-E-VERYB-B-B-B-B--BODY, TAKE A L-L-L-L-L-L-L-OOK AT GROGDA!" She whimpurred pruneily.

"non!" The Elizabreath objected, lifting her index finger into the air while fixing her sock curls, something she'd recently taken a liking to. Boomquifa was at her side, indecently stroking those kmart socks with those beautiful ender men. Scandalous!

However, Grogda, Skibidi Cult Master, snapped her head around so fast she could almost not see her head being still. This. This was her breaking point. She'd explained her predicament a bajillion, quadrillion, trillion, doubliion, thousandillion, infinitillioningeth, three hundred and seventy seven times point too!. How many more would it take for them to grow one groove in those perfectly polished thinking knobs of them of her !!!!!!!

A rage bubbled and brimmed to the surface. Hot molecules percolated out of Grogda's largest organ, down to her smallest bones in her three middle ears, because she had a rare form of polydactyly that caused her to grow one third of an ear at the top of her chin, giving her hearing abilities alike her sigma canine relatives. But that was totally besides the point. Because Grogda was very, very, incredibly, mad.

Her dormant symptoms of behavioural disorder and several different types of anger issues, as well as something that gave Grogda the urge to consume The Elizabreath's hair. She assumed it would be crunchy. Perhaps with an undertone of dandruff-

Non! (The Elizabreath's language proved to be a bad influence). Grogda was still very, very, incredibly, mad, maybe even more so once she realised that her grippers were bare, meaning The Elizabreath had utilised her socks for such a plebian purpose.

"IT IS I, GROGDA, SKIBIDI CULT MASTER, HOLDER OF THE SUPREME BRICK POSITION. I AM VORY, VORY, ONGRY!YY!Y!Y!Y!Y!Y!YY!Y!Y!Y", said by Grogda, who was ongry.

Her alpha tone blast resonated through the archaic walls of the Stonks building, their meeting place.

"Bro, it's not that bad, brother, man, chill out, bruh", The Elizabreath spit facts repeatedly right in front of Grogda's third ear.

"FUNGU*!!!!!!!!'

*a blended term coined by Grogda, symbolising the union of "fudge" and "u".

Grogda's rage spitted and spatted, making her blow menacing raspberries until she hitted the ground.

In a fit of rage, she directed all her anger, all those times she was refused entry into the Barbie movie premier because supposedly, large katanas were not suitable, which Grogda thought to be a macroaggression targeted toward her religion, which was basically racism (🤓👆), all those heated stares, all those little macaron flickers of flashiting fly flies of angwar as she passed her fellow Skibituses, which was obviously bc they were trying to be elastoplastic rebelz like her, but were failing to, because they hadn't yet memorised all 11 verses of the Skibidi Scriptures, so that was their fault, and all those times Grogda had trotted on past them on all threes, shooting a menagerie of gang signs with her free hand, and stabbing them with said katana with the other, Grogda directed all her anger, all her Skibidi supremacy.

At none other than The Elizabreath.

The Elizabreath had never thought about what it was like to die. And she still hadn't cuz she wasn't dying unless her hand sanitiserism caught up with her prematurely. But as Grogda's lips compressed and refracted, sending longitudinal waves that rebounded across the room, she couldn't help but notice that Boomquifa's orbs had widened, and left index toe was moving toward her slowly. Too slowly. Was everything in slow motion, or was she just too speedy mobeedy? Was she speeding? Was she Sonic the Hedgehog? Did someone say KFC?

Boomquifa couldn't help it when Grogda's magic finally hit The Elizabreath. By it, she meant the way her lids reddened, the way that she was quickly becoming desiccated, desert-like and arid, and the way words slipped out of her Xiao-like lips so fast she couldn't even say "when the snow is ready, we can eat it" before they resounded in the air.

"Thats so malapert rememb'r im adeptus xiao bro how couldst thee thou art currently using mine own gay men webtoon breaketh!!!!111!11221111~111"

When that didn't stir The Elizabreath from her Skibidi recital, Boomquifa tried again.

"Waketh up!"

Nothing.

"Stop ho doing yond!!!!! You areth makingeth the Boomquifa mad!!!!!!!!! WOFOWOFWOFOWOFOWFHARHARHAHRAHRHAHRAR"

No observable effects except for the way that damned verse 9 of the Skibidi Scriptures oscillated the air particles around them. Maybe using her full name? That was what penetrated the emo masks of those who didn't want her to see their emo sleves.. their true sleves..

"THE ELIZABREATH ZHENGALING GAY, THOU ART ANNOYING ME!" Boomquifa shrieked, her voice shrill-like and reaching frequencies unbeknownst to human beans.

Instead of replying, verse 10 of the Skibidi Scriptures continued to sound.

That was when Boomquifa felt the first tear slide down her right buccal, which she daintily wiped away, because it tainted her gaslight gatekeep girlboss persona, and also because she wanted to be mysterious. Instead, she parted those slobber gloss lips.

"stand ho yond, doth thee heareth me !p(@!"

The Elizabreath, who Quifey now deemed The Elizabreath Of The Skibidi Toilet And Skibitus (Unvoluntary), did not falter.

For the first time in 2917728419209683749293758132949102483285928741827409123 years, the Quifa family line shed tears at a rate faster than that of which they dehydrated.

"Youeth cannoteth leteth meth go.. you cannotethethetheth!!!!!!!!"

Nothing.

"ples.."

Nothing.

"ples!"

Nothing.

"PLES!!!!!!"

Nothing.

"BUT I LOOVETH YOUETH!"

Nothing.

And so, Boomquifa accepted her new name. Le Jashriek Master, of Le Boomquifa Le Sadge.