As últimas páginas dum livro q nunca escreverei –exceto essas últimas páginas.
Arrant, the arrant villain, could not contain his joy while glaring at our two heroes tightly bound to the nuclear warhead by his minions.
“So you see. Your wit and your grit are no match for my it. Mind games are my forte, for ambiguity is the playfield of language, and intelligence is its ball.”
“You cunt, Arrant,” replied Angrit, our witty hero. “You’re mistaken there! Language is the playfield of intelligence, and its ball is ambiguity!”
“HAW-HAW-HAW-HAW! How cute.”
“Er… Don’t titillate him,” stage-whispered Witnay, our gritty hero. “I… I think… I guess… Well. Intelligence is the playfield of ambiguity, if I’m not mistaken, and language is its ball, is it not?”
Arrant shot them a not unmeaningful smirk.
“You see what I mean? You can’t decide.”
Angrit and Witnay looked at each other in despair. They knew that Arrant was right once more. How could they have fallen into one more of his traps?
“I’m sure you’ll pay for this, Arrant,” spat Witnay.
“No, I won’t,” murmured Arrant, bringing his nose closer and closer to Witnay so that he felt the smell of his snot in his nostrils.
“Yes, you will!” hollered Angrit.
“No,” calmly warranted Arrant, playfully hovering his finger over a button on the console. “I won’t.”
He pressed the button and instantly the whole Human Evil Island blew up in a gigantic poisonous mushroom cloud, killing them all, turning minions, heroes, villains and possible descendants into dust in two mere seconds. Three minutes later, the sea had swallowed all.
Yes, children, Arrant killed himself too. For what’s the use of complete victory if then you still remain in thrall to the will to live?
