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Bread Sandwich, Part VIII

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Marvin re-materialized in a vast space filled with nothingness. To his surprise, there was no blood, or even pain emanating from the wound he had just sustained. Rather, the hole persisted in his stomach, as empty as the room around him. On the edges of his wound, a purple border resided, like the frosting of glass blown by a veteran craftsman. For minutes, Marvin was alone in the space, accompanied by nothing but a low hum resembling the chants of Gregorian Monks. Eventually, shadowy spires clashed together, creating a portal from which that one-eyed frog from the last episode appeared, only this time looking oddly humanoid.


“Hello,” the frog croaked. “It is I, Ubaldo Grenouille. What do you want?”


Taken aback by the directness of the Amphibian in front of him, Marvin had to think a second. “I want out of here!”


Ubaldo remained still and silent.


Marvin didn’t know what to do. He paced, trying to think of something that could satisfy the frog’s question. Eventually Ubaldo retorted, “What is it that will satisfy my query, you indominable slut?!”


At this point Marvin was so confused he didn’t know what to do with himself. After thinking on it for another moment, Ubaldo dissipated once again into darkness, and that dark energy flooded the wound in his stomach. It was at this point that Marvin was transported to another room that looked similar, only filled with dozens of black statues. He looked down and noticed the darkness of his wound start slowly spreading across his body.


“How do you feel now punk?!” Ubaldo’s voice boomed and echoed from seemingly nowhere. “How else can darkness exist if not for the absence of light?!” Ubaldo taunted. “Where would you like the paper, ma’am?!” “I’ll have the number five, no pickles?!”


The room felt like a wind tunnel of dark energy threatening to knock Marvin over. The confounding confusion of Ubaldo’s statements threw Marvin’s mind increasingly from the dilemma at hand. As the darkness continued to creep, it had now spread to over half of his body, and was beginning to crack from the wound like that glass we talked about before.


At this point, Marvin could think of nothing to do but shout random shit.


“Blue French horn!” Marvin bellowed to the heavens. Nothing changed. “Lemonade! Jack-O-Lantern! Isotopes! Chemical engineering! Tables! Igloo! Ghost pepper!” Marvin noticed at this point that he could no longer move his arms, as his joints had become darkness. He grew increasingly frantic. “Keyboard! Telephone! Iodine! Laundry Detergent! A way out!” He really thought he was clever with that one. “Guitar! Basketballs! Lemon! Floppy Disk (ask your grandpa)! Lamp! The love of a woman! Electric eel! Box! Snowfall! Galaxies!” At this point the darkness had consumed his entire body, leaving only his head untouched. Marvin reached the point where he had accepted his fate, but as his mouth was just about to solidify, he tried one last ditch effort based on something Ubaldo had said earlier.


“Dill Pickles!”

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