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A Worse Idea 130

“Bobby,” Sharise said, speaking into her cellphone as she stared at the growing jizz-like substance in Prometheus’s garage. “You don’t know who I am, but I’m really gonna need you to answer some questions.”

“What?” Bobby said, voice grobby.

“Several weeks ago, you had an incident.” As Sharise spoke, the jizz-like substance mushroomed off of the microscope slide. It grabbed a hold of the microscope and began subsuming it. “Can you tell me what exactly set off this incident?”

“I told Metahuman Aff–”

“That you have no idea what caused this white stuff to come out of your wrists.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Do I sound like a fucking idiot, Bobby?”

“Uh, no… ma’am? I–”

The jizz-like substance began subsuming the table. “Bobby, were you trying to masturbate when the stuff came out of your wrists?”

“Oh god, ma’am, I–”

“Bobby, I do not have time for your shit. Were you masturbating a couple minutes ago?”

After a brief pause, Bobby whispered, “Yeah.”

The jizz-like substance (which we can now probably just refer to as ‘jizz’) took on a human-like form.

“Bobby, I need you to look at the grossest thing you can. You have to be so flaccid, Bobby. I know you’re a teenage before, but you have to be the master of your domain, dammit.”

The jizz-man grew a face. Then, he spoke. “I live.”

“Goddammit,” Sharise said.

“Gross,” Anne said.

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