I looked back and saw a giant boot, owned by this brown-haired individual, chasing Sevarros and myself. From the squeal that emerged from both our lungs, we both knew the outcome: we were roadkill.
As I chased Sevarros around in my brain, I saw angels fall down. They proceeded to simply fall through the gelatine road in front of me, shattering the glass walkway as if it were made of papier-maché. I pulled out a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun-sword and cut down every shard in my path. Luckily, they were easily filleted, and soon were nothing more than minor threats to my skin, like a paper cut. I continued chasing that damned Mettaur up a flight of potato stairs, leapt off the edge, caught myself on a pterodactyl made of dog shit... ew... and rode that bitch all the way to the climax of Stirrup Fountain. I leapt off, bathed in the liquid leather, and emerged on the other side, cleansed in the power of dried flesh, passing over Discord's head as he taunted the Mane Six with these weird and wacky happenings.
"Huh," I said.
I returned to the chase, swimming through clouds of melted butter, and watched Sevarros disappear into oblivion. I chased him into that plot hole and emerged, blind-bag-pony-sized, in a shopping mall from underneath the shorts of
I looked back and saw a giant boot, owned by this brown-haired individual, chasing Sevarros and myself. From the squeal that emerged from both our lungs, we both knew the outcome: we were roadkill.
At the last possible second, a
dove in our way. He took the full brunt of the boot press as the world around us became a crushing, fuzzy white sightscape.
We lay there for a while, fighting to breathe, as the pressure suddenly released and the gray sky came back into view. I glanced over at Sevarros and received an evil smile in return. I growled, leapt up, and lunged at him. He taunted me with an anime, wide-eyed, tongue-flapping, hand-waving "nyah-nyah!" before blasting off again.
"Get back here, you cod-pasty blowfish!"
I chased him underneath a rack of goods, through which we entered and exited yet another plothole. Suddenly, he turned around and attacked me with a hammer the size of three of my bodies. The hammer sent me flying onto another hammer that I had to balance upon because it was smaller than the head of a nail. Soon, a hand reached out and...
Except it wasn't the little hammer in her hand - it was me!
"Aw shit!" I screamed.
The world went white. Literally. Like, I was floating in the slowly-diffusing grip of a female that had obviously died because I was in the way of her hammer.
Suddenly, a scream tore open the fabric of time and space and everything that relates to life, the universe, and everything. A giant 42 fell from the sky and crash-landed into the non-existent ground. The whiteness split again. Out of the ground emerged one thousand thousand Doctor Whos. They began doing various things with each other, whether it was fighting, kissing, slapping, playing TARDIS Chess, knitting threads of time together like Viking warrior men, or simply nomming on each others' heads. The David Tennant Who and the Tom Baker who, at least, one of the pairs, were sitting on chairs near a fireplace, narrating and providing colour commentary on every single story on this site at once.
But, while fascinating to watch them repeatedly slam some guy named Slaying Metal or something, it was unimportant to my saving-the-universe shtick. Like a ghost, I drifted between through the Sea of Who, looking for one minor inconsistency - namely, a Mettaur with a giant scythe. Sevarros had to be around here. He couldn't just up and vanish because he was pulled into another universe, could he? No. That's too hard because, hello, author!
Unfortunately, the story began developing a consciousness of its' own, and I would not be in control of it for much longer...