Part 65: Kilroy whips D Cup

What are you doing on the shed floor, Norman?

_{Stupid cheap Thai rope... this is what I get for not buying American...}

Are you all right?

Holly.

Yes?

Holly, if I open my eyes and still see you here I am going to start throwing hammers. Understand?

Hey! Kilroy! Let's go training. Like, right now.

_{...Maybe I can angle that hacksaw so it'll fall on my neck...}






I- I suppose that was a success. Maybe you can do something that doesn't involve detaching your own head?





I had that coming...


HOL-LYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

Yes, N-

WE ARE GOING TO FFF... FFFIGHT DAT FUCKER UNTIL HE CROAKS

You mean in a tournament, right?

Your idear works too. TO THE COLOSSHEUM!!

Let's get some coffee into you first. I don't think we can afford any more legal fees this month.

Not my fault the kid didn't know how to take a punch

You hit him in the back of the head.

He had it coming!

He was four years old.

You know what? I say that the-



And so we arrived at the Official D Cup tournament.



The first opponent tried to copy Kilroy. It was so cute.



That is, until Kilroy started whipping Igunisu with parts of his own body.



Next was Mopeto, the fat stone dog. Norman wanted to ride him, but he could barely even keep his balance while sitting. It's the little miracles like that that get me through the day.



Kilroy pulled his head off, and tossed it into the air.



The head hovered around the arena for a few seconds, before dropping on Mopeto, crushing him flat. Kilroy very calmly picked up his head, and screwed it back in place. His neck made a rusty squeaking noise with every turn.



But he wasn't scared of Kilroy... Norman managed to sneak into Michel's holding pen. They kicked Norman out of the arena after that, losing two and a half guards in the process. He has a lot of energy for a drug-addled, alcoholic old man.



Back to the matches. Next was Guran the Golem. He was strong, but very slow.



Kilroy shook his rattle at Guran. A saucy latin beat reverberated throughout the arena.



Kilroy's samba was so overpowering, that Guran felt compelled to dance until the match ended.



Thus granting Kilroy a victory by time-out. It appears as though he has a very sound tactical mind underneath that thick layer of random insanity.



The final opponent was Whirl, the ninja dinosaur.



I'm not even going to dignify this attack with a description. It defies every law of physics known to man, and I refuse to believe it exists.



In response to my protest, Kilroy pulled his chicken-cycle out of nowhere, and did several laps around the ring. I think I'm starting to understand why Norman drinks.



But we still made out pretty well today! I'm pleased.

Hey, that fucker's rank c now. We can send him off to-



What? What is it now?




If you'll let me finish, I was going to say that we should send the bastard to stay with the nerd for a few months of training. Vacation time. You get me?

Yes, that will do. Because he's in-

I'm reaching for a hammer right now.

Nevermind.





Take him to the mountains, Nerd.

Can't you just train him yourself?!

Mountains.

SIGH. Fine. But I'm totally not giving you a gift pen.

I took a handful when you were checking Kilroy's file.

Damn it!




He... he rode his chicken around in the snow.



I think I miss the crying golems. They were annoying, but at least they made sense.



When he was dragged off the mountain, he assaulted several trainers with his wheeled chicken. I think he may have figured out how to use it as a weapon.



Oh christ, he really did. I'm not sticking around to see that. Nerd boy, you're taking him again.

I should have been a fitness instructor, like Mom wanted.







I must say, this training run was the most enjoyable. All day, every day we took turns rolling Kilroy around the desert like a wheel.



He didn't learn any new attacks, but something stuck to his body after the last rolling. We would normally keep it for ourselves, but nobody wanted to touch that thing to get it. So I guess it's yours.




What the hell is that?



That would be nice, if I didn't already have a very handy brainwashing regimen to force my monsters to love me.



SATAN!

Close, but it is in fact me. Karn.

Let's just get this over with. Where do you want to drag us off to this time?

Hartville!

Oh boy, the jungle. Lord knows I fucking LOVE rummaging around a sweaty, disease-filled dank cesspit to dig around for bananas.

So that's a yes?

That's a "Let's ask the internet again".