Oh, if that grenade could talk.
It’d probably say something like, “Man, my life span is shitty,” or, “I wish I was featured in a better book. Seriously, Billy Higgins Peery, what the fuck is the plot of this thing?”
(To which I would reply, “shut the fuck up,” and “I’m trying, okay?” and “Look I’m gonna outline my next book so hopefully it goes better but hey this one has an assassin group starting up an app and if that isn’t funny then I don’t know what the fuck is.”)
Of course, it couldn’t talk. But this being a work of fiction, we can use our *imaginations*.
And so, as the grenade spun through the air, we can imagine its horror at the sights it saw. Anne, getting whacked repeatedly by a guy with an electric guitar; Sharise, getting whacked repeatedly by a guy with drumsticks.
Then there was Jizz Man.
If the grenade could talk, it surely would have said something like, “AHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOO WHYYYYYYYYY THE INHUMANITYYYYYYYYYYYYY,” as it was absorbed into Jizz Man’s semen body.
It floated in there for a moment — like fruit in a Jello Fruit Salad — before exploding (as all grenades must do.)
For a few moments, Jizz Man kept the impact of the explosion within his body. But soon that force proved too much for him. This meant he exploded, bits of his semen-y body getting all over The Angels of Heck, as well as Anne and Sharise.
“Ohmygod,” Anne said, laying on the floor, bits of semen all over the mech suit she was wearing.
“Shit,” Sharise muttered.
The whole fight stopped. The drummer guy had his drumsticks raised in the air, but a bit of semen got in his eyes. It burned, so he closed his eyes while trying to rub it out.
The guitar guy stopped whacking Anne with the guitar. He had semen all over him, and he couldn’t figure out if this was an arousing situation or not. Should he suggest an orgy?
The guy with the machine guns was too shocked to do anything. The grenade guy had run out of grenades, and thus didn’t know what his next move was.
Laying there, having gotten splattered with semen, Sharise said, “Shit.”