A man went to a laundry.
He gave a dress to the worker and said, "Can you get this stain out of my dress?"
The worker didn't hear him. "Come again?"
The man replied, "No. This time it's salad cream."
…
Anyway,
After that cursed climax, I exiled the Wanker Hero to stand outside the meeting room with both hands in the air—like he was being arrested for asking for a handjob from a mannequin. That was his punishment for… well, finishing.
He was doing that because he wanted to show me that my comedy is so good that it got him screaming without the s. Which… while flattering, is also emotionally scarring.
I don't want such die hard fans. Emphasis on hard.
Anyway, he's out. I've quarantined the horny. Now I can finally talk about things normal people discuss in meetings. Like world peace, taxes, and how to stop unsolicited moaning.
No more jokes from me. They'd either fake laugh again or someone else's meat flute might start playing.
I sat on my throne, stone-faced like I was auditioning for a Grim Reaper's internship. My stats are still Off since I defeated that Awakened Alien. Let's keep it that way.
"First things first…" I said.
The Heroes leaned in with the intensity of orphans watching a magician pull coins from behind someone else's ear.
Even the Wanker Hero outside was eavesdropping. Good. Let him listen. This might fix him. Or at least confuse his dick.
"From now on, Erect is my assistant. My right hand, you could say."
I announced. Erect will be my right hand and if I don't meet a girl soon, my right hand will surely experience something different. Just kidding. I do that with my left hand. Ambidextrous sinning.
[ End this topic! Enough about it. ]
Supreme Man chimed in. It seems he doesn't like such things.
After my totally HR-compliant announcement, Erect stood up so fast he almost moonwalked off the floor.
"What is it now?" I asked.
"Thank you for such honor, my lord. I will satisfy you as your right hand."
I would like you not.
"Sure. Sit down."
"Understood."
Erect sat down.
Anyway, let's move on before someone offers to be my left hand too.
"Erect will manage all matters before they reach me. If it's above his pay grade or below my patience, then I'll step in."
"Yes!"
The Heroes chorused in sync like a boyband without beard and XY chromosomes.
Even the Wanker Hero shouted from outside, probably thinking we were talking about hands again.
Now, time for the next important task.
"Tell me all your names," I ordered.
And since I can't trust my brain to remember all 50 of these names—especially in a world which has its continents name like Cuckwell—I activated one of my favorite Skills:
[ She Knows ]
This Skill lets me remember everything, forever. Great for names. Terrible for trauma.
After that, one by one Heroes stood up and shared their names.
"My name is Ted Bundy, my lord."
Who made you roam free?
Another Hero got up.
"I am Cock Bang."
I will stay away from this guy.
The next hero said, "Pedo."
"Who?"
"Pedro, my lord."
"Oh. Okay."
I am not sure if I heard Pedro.
Hero 4:
"Viagra."
He struggled to sit back down. Understandable.
Hero 5:
"Ginseng."
No comment. No soul. Just vibes.
Hero 6:
"Johnson Oil."
Slippery fella.
Hero 7:
"Nuru Mass."
No appointments I'll take for this one.
Hero 8:
"Gyaat."
This language pack came pre-installed, huh?
Hero 9:
"Ooga Booga."
Sir, that's not a name. That's an ancient summoning chant for Cannibals before brunch.
The names continued.
"Cunt."
I did a double-take.
"Where?" I asked instinctively.
"Beater."
"Goo Goo."
"Gaa Gaa."
Why are the Teletubbies applying to be Heroes?
"Hore."
Why is the W silent? Or is the whole name just a cry for sex?
"Woof."
I will throw a biscuit at this man if he barks.
"Virgin."
Okay now you're just self-reporting.
"Yamete."
Hold up.
"Kudasai."
YEP. That confirms it. Someone's browsing incognito mode at night.
"Khyaal."
??
"John Cena."
Didn't see him coming.
Like this, the names kept pouring in like a cursed gacha roll. I couldn't decide if I was leading a heroic army or moderating a Discord server for banned accounts. Even that wanker Hero standing outside revealed his name. You can guess what his name might be from the list above.
All that remained was Erect.
Even though I already knew his name, I followed protocol.
"Your name?" I asked.
He stood proudly. "Erec T."
"Pardon? What's your name?"
"It's Erec T, my lord. Erec Tile."
I was silent.
He had the same type of name as me. Back in the village he told me his name was Erect. I didn't know there was a space after Erec.
"Who gave you this name?" I asked.
"My grandmother."
I smiled. "It's a good name."
I will still call him Erect though. It'd be a pain to suddenly change names.
Erect bowed and the introductions were done.
Now some info dumping.
"Who rules this world?" I asked. "I grew up in a village that was too poor to afford exposition."
"You do, my lord," Erect said. "You now rule the five free continents. Each one has a castle like this. Once you throw the Aliens out of the remaining two, you'll own all seven continents like a hero at the climax of a novel."
Okay, nice setup.
"How many Aliens are there, roughly?"
"Millions. They reproduce faster than unpaid interns in heat working at a dog care center."
"And if all the Heroes are here, who's guarding the borders?"
"Our soldiers. They're strong enough to handle minor invasions."
"How often do the Aliens attack?"
"Once a month. A female Alien gives birth in ten days and is ready to breed again the same hour."
My God. They're not just dangerous. They're onlyfans in motion.
I had a new business name idea: Bang-UFOs Inc.
Anyway, I was done with questions for now.
"Beater!" I called.
"Yes?" came the enthusiastic reply from outside.
"You can com—enter now."
I nearly stepped on a landmine there.
Beater came in, walking like shame and dopamine had fused into a human.
"I'm sorry for my behavior, my lord. It's the dopamine. It makes me do things."
Sir, that is not a valid excuse. That is a confession.
He sat down.
I said nothing.
Mostly because I was afraid that even eye contact might trigger a relapse.
"How do you guys communicate with each other when you're in different places?" I asked Erect.
"All the soldiers and Heroes have telepathy skills. We talk through our minds."
Damn. Magic walkie-talkies.
"What about the common people then? How do they communicate?"
"They… just use their mouths?"
Oh. Right. My bad for forgetting they operate on manual mode.
"So," I leaned back on my throne like an anime villain preparing to monologue, "when is it most likely for the Aliens to attack? They attack once every month, right? And they haven't done it this month yet. Any guesses?"
The Heroes went silent for a moment, channeling the collective wisdom of toddlers playing hide-and-seek in a minefield.
Then all of them said in perfect harmony, like a cult about to drink a goat's blood:
"They can attack right now."
Yeah, sure.
Just like your ex saying "I've changed."
That "right now" prediction is only cute until it becomes a documentary.
That was only one time thing that happened at the stage back at the village.
It won't happen again.
My words won't always come true.
No other thump will happen.
THUMP!
And no group of Aliens will shout This is an Alien attack. Hahaha.
"This is an Alien attack! Hahaha!!"
This motherf- Why is every word I am saying is happening? Am I wired or something? Or is there Alexa somewhere swearing she isn't stealing data?