This article is part of the The Legend of Tooth Tooth series.
It has been some time since we had occasion to build together, god. For that you have my deep apologies. I been mad busy in the Library of Righteousness, educating myself on matters of righteousness and supreme truth of existence.
I ain't mad.
And also my boy got a damn Sega so we been on that shit a lot too. But you know it was not my intent to leave your ass hanging with this Tooth Tooth story, for that shit was just getting interesting. Interesting, yea, and deeply consequential to the very soul of our city, god, for I was telling the tale of how our proud brother had been poisoned with a particle of hated swine flesh by Jeremy Birdcastle, the whitest boy in town, who sought to undermine the moral perfection of our most righteous teacher. So where we leave off at?
If I recall correctly, Tooth had gone to the nexus of all alabaster sorcery: the county fair. There, a seven-foot Nordic warrior been explaining to Tooth how the Yacubian white devil overran the cultures of the darkest north with his despicable mystery god, and now the righteous Black Metal warriors been burning down the vile churches of the soulless white man and praising their warrior god Odin in song, right?
Word. That seven-foot Nordic man, Valp Kattunge, was just saying all how Tooth's eagle was perched for millennia atop Yggdrasil, the world tree, until the foul white man had imprisoned it in a zoo; and how the eagle had not truly forsaken Tooth, his brother, the man who freed him from the bonds of white zoology, even though Tooth ate a mote of the meat most vile-- the eagle merely had to stay away a minute, lest its righteous rage over the scent of unclean meat on Tooth's breath provoke the avian fury that has been the undoing of so many bacon-wafting miscreants of the Yacubian variety.
And finally, Valp Kattunge told Tooth of an unholy syzygy of white spiritual power that was occurring right then up in the fairgrounds: Jeremy Birdcastle, the blinding-white parody of a man who favors uncouth bitch shit such like bikes and Stargate and shit, was present to display a big-ass turnip he grew on his damn windowsill on some urban farming bullshit. Simultaneous to that, we got the world's largest swine, pinnacle of perverse white science, being given a medal by the twisted warlocks who run the fair. Big turnip, big swine, Birdcastle. An alabaster apocalypse in the making, god. So that's where we at.
OK, cousin. I'm ready.
So yeah, god. Valp been telling Tooth how they got this big-ass swine at the fair, and Tooth immediately knew the swine gotta be some step in his path back to righteousness, only he don't yet know just how. He got corrupted in the first place by unwittingly ingesting the fruit of a hog, so how is yet more hog exposure possibly gonna be any help at all? Tooth can't quite figure it. But at his disposal right there he got the rarest of beings: a white-skinned man who is not beholden to the Yacubian evil of most devils. In fact, he has been building quite favorably with this Valp Kattunge, honorable man of the north. So he feels it would not be inappropriate to seek the counsel of this rare bird.
"What, pray tell, am I to do with this huge-ass hog they got, my friend? Am I to slay it?"
And Valp says to him, "This I cannot tell you, Tooth Tooth. You must seek out this pig, and you must find the answers yourself."
Tooth bid Valp adieu for the moment, telling him he'll catch up once Birdcastle has been defeated, but Valp won't have it. "I must return to my homeland, Tooth Tooth. I have other tasks to complete in Odin's name, more mystery-god churches to burn and more white devils to hypnotize with my songs of agony. Go in peace, righteous original man; defeat the whitest kid in town, reclaim your eagle, and return to your streets with head held high."
And Tooth shook the seven-foot Nordic man's hand, and he felt something peculiar: rather than the clammy softness of the usual white handshake, Tooth Tooth felt the electricity of one original righteous brother meeting another original righteous brother.
"Game recognize game, Tooth Tooth." And with that, Valp Kattunge whipped his spiny cape around and strode into the dark backstage area.
Yes, it's the perfect form for surviving a car crash. But it's also the perfect form for so much more, like surviving the trauma of reading any news headline in 2016.
It's just a little confusing, is all.
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