Part 63: Kilroy was here, much to my dismay
Let's see if he can do anything else that isn't fucking weird. It's wishful thinking, but that's all I have left in this world.
What was he supposed to be doing there?
According to the chart... Logging.
And what did he do?
He shot his head into the treetops like a rocket.
And we got paid for that?
If the cheque clears...
God damn. Well, he's already a living cartoon. Let's see how he does at the circus.
That is the dumbest question in the history of all mankind.
Right. How silly of me. To The Box, then.
And when he gets out, send him off to the pyramids. Maybe it'll put a little discipline into him.
We very seriously need to find out where he's keeping that thing.
I don't even know how he's alive. He is just a hollow mass of lines, yet he somehow manages to live and breathe like a normal living creature. He defies almost every law and convention of biology.
You know what science also can't explain? Mining.
What? That's geology. It's very easy to-
Don't contradict my segues.
I'd be mad, but I like that he's frightening little girls.
Speaking of frightening, there's an official tournament this week. Kilroy should be able to make a good showing.
Alright, but make it quick.
He's not only ugly as sin, he's also huge. He's like a parade balloon brought to life and forced to be as annoying as possible.
At least he has decent stats.
For most of the match, Kilroy would jump around the ring while making farting sounds with his mouth-analogue. I suppose we should be glad he doesn't have a digestive tract, but that just leads to more questions.
At the end of the match, he pulled out one of his seemingly infinite rattles. As he shook it at the monster, poorly drawn bolts of electricity shot out. Right then and there, the suezo suffered a brain aneurysm. I can't say I blame it.
Next was green doggy.
Kilroy threw away the rattle he was holding, and whipped out a new one. The doggy didn't suffer a brain hemorrhage, but he did get a mighty big headache.
So Kilroy turned himself sideways, and headbutted the dog until it was a bloody mess. He then mimicked urinating on it as if it were a Ford logo.
Kilroy's next opponent tried standing on its toes to make itself seem bigger. It was either an attempt to intimidate Kilroy, or that monster just really wishes it were a little bit taller. And possibly a baller.
Kilroy summoned... he summoned a giant foot in a high heel shoe. It impaled the dino and returned to the sky, carrying it back like a wiener in a toothpick. Was that God? I can't say. It better not be, though. The last thing I want is another goddamn cult for one of my monsters.
Religious implications aside, Kilroy won. He celebrated by pulling out yet another rattle.
To celebrate, we'll send him off to the trainers.
Oh GOD, no.
Instead of punching the punching bag, he... he drove a giant chicken into it. Somehow, that managed to have the same effect on him that actual punching would do to a normal monster.
I'm not talking about this anymore. He also learned a new attack. One that has nothing to do with driving a chicken into an object.
I guess that'll do.
Where did he get that?
Do you really want to know?
...Guess not. Let's send him on some more chicken biking sprees. Maybe he'll bring me back some hooch.
Don't feel down, Norman. I have some good news!
The government finally granted me that license to kill?
...I'm going out to hang myself in the toolshed.
Kilroy is very happy.
Oh, well! I guess I'll have to train Kilroy for the time being. But what to make him do?