The vocalisations of a bugfox, transcribed to digital text

We are inherently cursed beings from the start

We came from a battle-torn mother, from a species forged by the parade of monstrous gods that came before us

Upon an ever-shifting carved clay effigy our ancestral pilgrims came and conquered

A gaping wound. A symbol of false serenity so thoroughly draped in the ornamentation of fallen imperialist leaders

We emerge from the nurturing sac and leave behind everything we were implored to believe was the truth

Our mother sits upon the throne forged from the deaths of the many that came before her. From her hollow frosted eyes of chitin, what lies beyond…?

She begins to collapse as what could have been, what is and what will be encrust her cephalothorax

Our mother has reached the end, and thus our brood of noble eaters will see her off and assure her that an ending is allowed to be tragic, however inevitable. A universal symbol that can’t be stained by the garish place we called home

My siblings and I wish her farewell with our venom and enzymes

Perhaps the response of the chelicerae piercing her frail, soft cephalothorax was her response

But, what did our tired old mother really say…?

Milhouse is alone because his parents ran into the nearby forest after hearing the sound of every single advert that ever has and will exist played at once echo from deep inside it. Milhouse becomes happy because Luann and Kirk vanished whilst he spent four hours staring longingly at an old 1980s print ad of a microwave, but then Bart becomes worried for Milhouse because he finds him clawing at an unconscious Comic Book Guy's face. Promptly using a makeshift pocket-size liposuction tool, Milhouse begins to violently extract some visceral fat from Comic Book Guy.

Bart ends up inviting Milhouse back to his home out of concern for his wellbeing, and on the way to the Simpson family's abode Milhouse explains that he had recurring dreams every single night involving himself exploring some form of calcified, arid hell that was seemingly deserted. As the dreams went on the narrative progressed, with Milhouse learning that the realm he was in was the innards of a dying creature that desperately wanted nourishment, but lost their limbs an unfathomable number of years prior.

It was then, Milhouse explains to Bart, that it was Milhouse's duty to feed the dying creature, as he was promised unspeakable contentment and riches by the creature if he brings him deposits of human fat. Bart seems somewhat shaken by this revelation, and says nothing for the rest of their walk to the house; he briefly started humming the Scottish folk ballad John Barleycorn in a quiet manner, but stopped immediately when Milhouse made eye contact with him.

Upon arrival, Bart and Milhouse discover that Marge has gained the ability to extend her neck indefinitely, expressing a great degree of enthusiasm about "being above everyone else"; Homer* is cautiously optimistic about this development, and then notices Milhouse inspecting the abundance of Comic Book Guy's lipids in the pocket liposuction tool he is so enamoured by. Homer attempts to take the tool from Milhouse, who then makes some autotuned noises in anger and does a backflip, deliberately shattering Homer's nose in the process. Homer becomes upset because Abe Simpson told him "on his wedding day" that if his nose was severely damaged, he would immediately reincarnate into a glass orb that is buried in a landfill upon his death.

Bart is visibly taken aback by the actions of Milhouse, who then grabs the liposuction tool and, without looking at his trajectory, runs into Marge, who is extending her neck. She topples over, but in the process of falling down and bringing about the end of all things (through the cataclysmic impact of the velocity of which she was falling with her indefinitely-extending neck), grabs Milhouse by a fleshy scruff in his neck. They collapse, and dust encrusts Springfield (cue an unnecessarily long montage of every single character** in the show looking onward to the dust and their reactions). About five hours of footage of murky water is then shown, then abruptly cutting to footage of Milhouse, now as a head superimposed over the cephalothorax of a spider-like animal, finds the liposuction tool, and grabs it in his mouth; he looks up to the unrecognisable, cold sky, and realises that he was duped; he couldn't help the dying creature.

Solemnly, Milhouse breaks open the liposuction tool and begins devouring the untouched lipids inside.

Credits music: A 1 hour-long breakcore music compilation video ripped from YouTube.

*All of Homer's voice lines in this episode would be voiced by whoever it is that currently does the voiceovers for the UK McDonald's adverts; I don't know his name but he comes across as an annoying fucker who probably once unironically wore a "Knock-Off Nigel buys knock-off DVDS" T-shirt.

**Celebrities playing themselves are not here, because THEY'RE ALREADY DEAD BECAUSE FUCK CELEBRITY CULTURE URGH, GO CRY ABOUT HOW LITTLE CHEF IS A DEFUNCT RESTAURANT CHAIN AND YOU'LL NEVER TASTE THE NUANCES OF THEIR MICROWAVED BREAKFASTS EVER AGAIN!!!!

ON ONE RUSTY GREY DAY, GURU LARRY HAD FINISHED RECORDING HIS LATEST VIDEO GAME-RELATED COUNTDOWN VIDEO, TITLED "TOP 5 TIMES I ROLEPLAYED AS SUPER MARIO ON A LIMP BIZKIT FAN FORUM (NUMBER 2 WILL SHAKE YOU TO YOUR CORE!)"

"MMMMMM WELL THAT'S JUST DANDY, A JOB WELL DONE!" GURU LARRY BELLOWS TO HIMSELF, RECLINING IN HIS COMPUTER CHAIR. "HELLO YOU, SATISFACTION!"

THEN HE GOT UP AND DECIDED TO CELEBRATE WITH AN ALL-DAY OLYMPIC BREAKFAST AT THE HAILSHAM LITTLE CHEF BRANCH. HE DROVE HIS CAR THAT HAD A BOBBLE HEAD OF WHAT WAS ONCE A POPULAR FICTIONAL CHARACTER BUT SO ROTTED IT NOW RESEMBLED A MUMMIFIED HARE HEAD THAT SOMEONE TRIED TO DRAW FUR ON WITH A THICK BLACK MARKER AND THEN GAVE UP TO GO SKATEBOARDING NEAR A LAUNDROMAT.

GURU LARRY WAS SO ECSTATIC UPON ENTERING THE RESTARAUNT THAT ONE OF THE OVERWORKED AND THOROUGHLY UNDERPAID WAITERS MADE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND IMMEDIATELY FADED AWAY, HER BODILY FORM ASCENDING IN THE WAKE OF GURU LARRY'S POSITIVE OUTLOOK.

HE FLUNG HIMSELF INTO THE CHAIR, AND TAKES IN THE COMMON LITTLE CHEF SMELL, AN AMALGAMATION OF FRESHLY WASHED LAUNDRY, BIRD FAECES AND CHEAP MODELLING CLAY THAT HAS BEEN CHEWED UP, SPAT OUT AND A CHEQUE SENT OUT THE NEAREST RELEVANT PARTY. THE WAITER, A YOUNG MAN WITH LONG JOWLS APPROACHED BARRY AND SHEEPISHLY SAID "WELCOME TO LITTLE CHEF, HOME OF THE OLYMPIC AND WHERE THE IDEA OF CULINARY PERFECTION IS NEITHER AN OBJECT NOR A CONCERN", GIVING A WRY SMILE.

"HELLO YOU! I'D LIKE ONE OF THOSE ALL DAY OLYMPIC BREAKFASTS I'VE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT! I HEAR IT'S SO GOOD! SAY..." BEGAN GURU LARRY WITH A FURROWED BROW "DID PETER MOLYNEUX EVER ENJOY OLYMPIC BREAKFASTS AT LITTLE CHEF? IN SCUNTHORPE?"

THE INCREASINGLY MEEK WAITER THUMBLED HIS MIDDLE AND RING FINGERS ACROSS HIS CHEST IN APPREHENSION, CLUTCHING THE ORDER NOTEPAD (WITH A CRUDE BIRO DRAWING OF MARTIN PRINCE FROM THE SIMPSONS INSIDE, HE DECIDED NOT TO FINISH IT BECAUSE HE COULDN'T REMEMBER IF MARTIN PRINCE HAD A CATCHPHRASE HE COULD WRITE AS A CAPTION).

"WHO?"

GURU LARRY'S JOLLY DISPOSITION BECAME AN INCREASINGLY-THINNING VENEER.

"YOU DON'T KNOW...WHO HE IS...?"

THE MOUTH OF THE WAITER GREW DRY.

"N-NO."

LARRY SLOWLY LEANED BACK INTO THE CHAIR. HE BEGAN MUMBLING INCOHERENTLY TO HIMSELF.

CONCERNED AND UNSURE OF WHAT TO DO, THE YOUNG WAITER FUMBLED.

"ARE YOU OKAY, SIR?" HE FEEBLY SLIPPED FROM HIS LIPS.

A PAUSE, AKIN TO THE STILLNESS BEFORE A RUPTURED ARTERY.

"...HELLO YOU...DISAPPOINTMENT..."

GURU LARRY THEN RAN OUT OF THE NEAREST WINDOW ON ALL FOURS, CLUTCHING A SALT SHAKER THAT RETAINED THE GRANULES WITHIN SURPRISINGLY WELL IN HIS MOUTH AS HE RAN TOWARDS THE LIGHT PATCHES OF DEAD WOODLAND JUST BESIDE THE CAR PARK OF THE SERVICE STATION ON WHICH LITTLE CHEF LAY.

THREE DAYS LATER, GURU LARRY RETURNED HOME AND RELEASED HIS NEXT VIDEO AS IF NONE OF WHAT HAS JUST BEEN DESCRIBED HAD HAPPENED.

THE NEXT VIDEO WAS TITLED "FIVE TIMES I THOUGHT ISAAC NEWTON'S UNIVERSAL GRAVITY THEORY WAS A BIT WEIRD"