IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T BEEN PAYING ATTENTION: After the bizarre reality shifts caused by the Moderator, His Holiness Pope Lucius and those other guys with no discernable personalities tried to find out how to stop it. Summoning the pointless chthonian known as Skub-Nazarthotep, they decided the only thing to do was to end this fucking stupid sequence of parodies was to bring to a halt their particular strand of the universe. Why? Because they're nuts. Who? I just told you. When? Sometime around now. How? Fuck knows. But what does matter is the fact that you're actually reading this. So please carry on.

"What if we staged that 6 hour extended version of HMS Pinafore where all the characters can fly?"

"That's your answer for everything, Barry," the Pope replied. "No we need something so cataclysmic that it would actually annihilate everything. Lame celebrity jokes won't work here, sadly."

"I know, I know, I know", Cardinal Gary said. "What if, right, what if, we kill all the members of the Libertines." He looked extremely pleased with himself.

The rest looked at him.

"Look, this is getting nowhere," Cardinal Åårsøl said. "We need something to do fast, because if we've already run out of ideas by the seventh episode, then we're totally fucked."

"Yes, yes, I know," the Pope replied, with the manner of someone who knew. "If only I could just think of something. Just think of something really clever. Really. Really. Really. Clever."

There was a resounding crash as something huge and German-made obliterated the wall of the Vatican smoking room.

"Run for it!"

"Hallo!" The Kommander took his helmet off and greeted them. "How is everything with the changing of the reality type business, ja?"

"That's all sorted now we're safe in our own webspace."

"Or are you?!"

"Shit! That was a bit scary!"

"Sorry."

"Then vot is the problem being? We're all safe from the Libertining, yes?"

"For the moment, anyway. But to completely reverse it, we need to end the world."

"Ah, ending of the world! Doom of der gotts! I am loving the apocalypso!"

"Uhhh... yuh."

"Hey, look at this," Barry cut in, and pointed to a headline in the Papal Tribune.

"'Bike Theft Leaves Father Antonio Devastated'?"

"No, the one below."

MORON BEGINS POTENTIAL APOCALYPSE BY STEALING PENCIL, ERASER THERE IS fury in London today as some idiot managed to break the Seventh Seal, held beneath the British Museum, by stealing a pencil and eraser from it.
"We just don't know how this happened," said the curator of the British Museum. "We have very strict safeguards on these kinds of things. It must have been done by someone so monumentally stupid that they managed to evade all the security we have."
Cont. pg 94

"Yeah I see what you mean," Gary said. "Poor Father Antonio."

"Hang on," the Pope interjected. "Isn't this one of those tabloid scares they dredge up every few months? Or are we actually gonna have to go to fucking England again?"

"Well, handled properly, this could be what we call an Apocalypse Lite," replied Barry. "Like a regular Apocalypse, but half the fat."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I certainly am."

"Shut up. Look, let's just cut to us in England. God I hate that place."

They materialised outside the British Museum.

"That always makes me feel queasy when you do that," said Barry.

"It's cheaper than Eurostar, though, lemme tell you. Right, let's get on with this shit."

The Museum was cordoned off by policeman carrying machine guns and wearing those stupid fluorescent jackets.

"Ahem, hello my good man, I am the Pope, and these are my good friends Barry, Gary, Wehrner, and Åårsøl."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hallo."

"Hi."

"We were just wondering if we could get through to the scene of the crime."

"Dunno," replied the policeman. "Are you a terrorist?"

"Do I look like a fucking terrorist? Not that it would make any difference to you nutters anyway."

"Well, your holiness, you might not be the pope. You might be some dirty terrorist from some crazy country a hundred million miles away, but you're disguised as a pope."

"Just get the fuck out of my way, you stupid cocksucker. I'm holier than thou."

They ducked under the cordon, and walked into the museum. A balding man with glasses and leather patches on his jacket ran up.

"Your Holinesses! Thank the heavens you're here! You've heard what happened?"

"Some guy stole pencil and opened seventh seal, yeah happens all the time,"

"Not quite. He stole the Pensilla Rasa, the duct tape which holds the Seal together."

"Wait a minute," Gary interrupted. "The Seventh Seal isn't actually a seal?"

"No," said the balding man, "and Seal isn't actually a seal either."

"Hohgod..." said Gary, and sat down, turning pale.

"Who would do that though?" asked the Pope.

"Obviously someone with a mind to creating the Apocalypse Lite," said the balding man. "The Apocalypso."

"Don't look at me," said Wehrner.

"Well, let's have a look," said the pope.

They were in a darkened chamber. A strange blue light seeped out from the cracks in the Seal. As the light hit the balding man, his hair grew back.

"Wow," said the Pope. "That's pretty handy." The man said nothing.

"The thing is," said Barry, "this is only one of the Seals. You need to break all of the other six before."

"Uhh..." said the no longer balding man, looking embarrassed. Scattered around the room were pieces of stone, all different colours. "I tried to juggle them. I was pissed, alright?"

"OK, well, you're the Pope. What do you suggest we do?"

"This." Screaming in some weird tongue, he drew his sword and drove it through the crack of the Seal. Wind seemed to rush out as the light grew blinding.

"Where did you get that sword from?" screamed Barry.

"It's a handy plot device! Plus it looks cool!"

The light was distorted. It seemed to bend itself into ethereal simulacra. Not only had the balding man's hair grown back, his teeth were sharpening to points and his eyes were glowing deep red.

Laughing hysterically, he said, "I always knew the Church would come out on our side! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA- I don't get it," said Gary.

"I knew your face was familiar!" said the pope. "You're Nergal!"

The Seal exploded. Shards ripped through the air as everyone ducked into the corners of the room. The hole in the fabric of reality was widening.

"Armageddon outahere!" said the Pope.

They ran out, up through the museum and out the main doors. The skies were curdled with blood red clouds. The ground was cracking up as roots tore through the asphalt. Chaos reigned with an iron fist of disorganization - the Apocalypso was finally here.

"Look at the sky!" said the Pope. "It's unfurling! Just like in Revelations!"

A section of the sky was folding back, like parchment.

"What's that stuff behind?" asked Gary.

"Firmament," replied Barry.

Firmament: churning, shifting, shaping proto-substance, the building blocks of reality. Modelling clay for the gods. It looked pretty much like the rest of the sky, only with more confidence.

"Well, Popeyboy, it's all gone to plan so far," said Barry. "What happens after this?"

"Who knows? Everything's possible," said the Pope. "We could turn up in Cadillacs and Dinosaurs."

And then the demons rushed through. Out of the hole in the sky came millions of them, swarming masses of creatures, not exactly evil but not exactly good, whose only purpose of existence was destruction. Some of them bore a resemblance to vials of Branston vinegar sauce.

"The shit's really hitting the fan now, isn't it?" said Barry.

"I sense a horrific anticlimax," said the pope.

As the demons poured out they did what they were designed to do. Tearing up fragments of everything and hurling them around.

But this was just the beginning of the assault, as they began to rip reality itself to shreds, atom by atom, cell by cell. Each hole torn would free more of them. A side effect of this was the freeing up of possibility strands normally rendered impossible by the rigid laws of reason.

"Oh my goadadad, this is really weird," said Barry, whose face looked like a sandwich toaster.

"Ooh," said Gary, "can I use your face to make a toasted cheese sandwich?" but sadly his goal was never achieved as at that very moment he became lactose intolerant.

"Don't worry chaps, this is the Pointlessly Surreal Bit," said the Pope. "We're not over the worst yet though, so ride it out."

"OK," said Gary, and he did. "Yee haw."

"Excuse me, Your Holiness," said a mound of turf with a copy of Reader's Wives in its grassy hands, "have you got the arm?"

"About 6:30," said the pope.

"Thanks you," said the mound, and flew off.

At that point Wehrner multiplied into 8 versions of himself each an eighth of his size.

"Scheize!" they said. "Zis is ein weirdokkuranz!"

"Don't worry, I've got a lemon," said Barry.

"IT'S NOT A LEMON!" screamed Åårsøl. "IT'S A PIECE OF GLASS!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Barry, and threw it as hard as he could right over there, where it exploded into a milkfloat, which then turned and drove into a wall.

"That's weird," said Barry. "The wall didn't congeal."

"The weirdness is dying down," said the Pope. "Now it's time for the nasty part."

What remained of the sky then collapsed, sheets of atmosphere crashing down upon them. As they fell to earth, they caught fire - the number of them increasing until it was virtually a firestorm.

Volcanoes erupted, blizzards, tornadoes and hurricanes stormed across the world. The demons continued to rip everything to pieces, while angels sort of helped them while trying not to hurt anything. The rich tried to flee in their cars only to escape into something even worse. After a few hours of this, the real end started.

"AahaAaAaAAaaA, this feels weird," said Gary, as he began to fade out. "I feel everywhere and nowhere at the same time."

"WOW, I can change my height," said the Pope, growing ten feet tall.

"Look my arms," said Barry, whose arms had extended and were going round corners.

The 8 Wehrners merged back into one, who then jumped up in the air and floated off.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," he said.

"He'll be back," said the Pope. "This is really fun."

"Not too long to wait now," said Barry. "That Moderator was the best thing that happened to us."

The universe started to come apart at the seams. The physical damage was meaningless as everything was basically just matter, which was now freeforming.

"Death to ewerything!" said Wehrner, flying back. "Hahahahahaha eat this!" He held a shotgun which was firing rounds travelling at 5 miles an hour.