Quantum Exile

It is well documented that, in 2007, a sect of Jehovah's Witnesses came together and cast a spell on Plaxton Emmons. This spell sent Plaxton hurtling through the local Multiverse, leaping from parallel earth to parallel earth, searching for a way home and righting any wrongs he would come across. From his journals we get a glimpse into his trials and tribulations throughout his journey home, and finally his vengeance upon his implaxable foe... The Jehovah's Witness. These are his tales:



Earth 778: Ancient Greece

The Thirteenth Labour of Plaxcules

When Plaxton awoke and found himself in Ancient Greece, the locals thought him a god of Olympus. "I'm no deity" shouted Plaxton (as he often does), but these poor souls were in need of something to believe in. They needed a hero, and Plax is always up to a challenge, so they took him to the king. King Eurystheus doubted in Plaxton's incredible abilities, so before assisting him in locating dimensional rifts, he set Plax on 12 labours to prove his worth. Plaxton begrudgingly agreed and set off to Nemea to slay a man-killing lion that had been wreaking havoc among the villagers there.

Upon reaching Nemea, Plaxton wasted little time in locating the great beast. The monster man eater snarled as Plaxton lunged his spear. The lion batted it away with it's enormous paw. As his spear fell to the ground another item fell from Plaxton's tunic, his trusty Gideon New Testament Bible. The lion was aghast, seemingly recognizing the pocket sized book. "YOU ARE NOT OF THIS TIME!" he roared! Plaxton, though stunned by seeing a giant speaking lion for the second time in his life, replied "yes, I'm from another time and place, sent into the multidimensional void by the cult known as Jehovah's Witness." The lion licked his lips seemingly chewing on the fat of the information just provided him. "I believe your tale, you seem to be an honest and true hero, will you join me to Mount Olympus, so that my pantheon and I may help you enter the next dimension."

"Your pantheon?" Plaxton asked. The lion became swathed in a cloak of bright light as he transformed into a muscular, bearded elderly man. "I apologize for the deception my new friend. I am actually Zeus! God of Thunder and Lightning; and Skyfather of the Olympian Pantheon!" Plaxton replied, "Oh, well now you have my apologies, for there is only One God, and you are not he!" "Agree to disagree." said Zeus. "Now let us away to Eternal Olympus!"

Atop Mount Olypmus, Zeus told Plaxton's tale to the other Olympians. Having no love for the Jehovah and his witnesses, they agreed to outfit Plaxton with gifts fit only for the gods. Athena bestowed Plaxton with a cybernetic eye that could see all wavelengths of light, including lies. Hercules blessed him with immense strength after a quick wrestle and training session in the greco martial art known as pankration. Ares and Apollo gave him a laser pistol that shot beams of concentrated solar radiation. Hephaestus a mighty shield and indestructible armor. Aphrodite and Artemis gave him a night of passion. Plaxton did not wear a condom, and got very deep inside their divine guts. All of Olympus joined in on the orgy at the request of Bacchus. The Earth shook that night under the Thunder of Zeus's immortal orgasms.

The next morn, Zeus gave Plaxton the location of the dimensional portal. "Thank you for the information, however, I made a solemn vow to King Eurystheus to complete his 11 more of his labours. The first was defeating and killing your lion form. Why were you killing innocent people by the way?" "They're but mortals, sometimes I like to transform into beasts and fuck em', sometimes I like to kill em'." "Fair enough", said Plaxton, "I'll take your mane as proof of my conquest, complete the other labours, then be on my way." "Hermes, take Plaxton wherever he wishes, then bestow some of your great speed to him." The messenger of the gods did as he was bade, and took our hero to Lake Lerna to slay a hydra.

The remaining labours went by him like a breeze. With the gifts given by the Olympians Plaxton defeated the Lernaean Hydra, captured the Ceryneian Hind, and finished all of the items on Eurystheus' shit list. Eurystheus was pleased and made Plaxton the official hero of Greece, giving him the name Plaxcules. Plaxcules made an announcement to the court. "I have but one more labour to perform." Everyone in the room looked confounded, but fell silent

Plaxton laid down on his back in the middle of the King's throne room. He breathed short rhythmic breaths. The king's court stood confused, "What is going on here? Be he possessed?" shouted the king. With one mighty push Plaxton gave birth to a litter of lion cubs. They quickly grew and slaughtered everyone in the palace, all except for King Eurystheus.

"CURSE YOU!!" the king muttered as Plaxton drew his sun gun and said "I knew you were a dirty J-Slug when first we met." The king on his knees proudly declared "Jehovah will protect m--." Plaxton interrupted, "Tell Jehovah I'm coming for him next you Witness swine." Plaxton pulled the trigger, incinerating the evil king. He then took a piss on the atomized ashes, kissed his lion cubs goodbye, and left Earth 778, never to return.

 Earth 34 

 The Creativity Crucible 

He awoke on an island, unsure of how many Earths’ were in his rearview mirror. Tucked safely away, rescued by their hero the Quantum Exile. “Where the hell am I now?” Plaxton said to himself, but did find familiarity in his surroundings. “Ah you’re finally awake, I was wondering if those Moon Lagoon Men had finally gotten your goat” a familiar voice said. “Circe! You old hag, did you use your magicks to prevent me from travelling to the next earth?

“Quite astute Mr Emmons, for this poor Earth is severely lacking any literary heroes.” “No great books to read on this Earth, what the fuck Circe?” Plax snarled. “I know, but I’ve got a plan to get the great authors of history back on their paths, so that they can go on to write masterpieces.” she replied. “Very well, fill me in on your pla…” Plaxton was interrupted by Circe as she pleaded “We will begin soon, but first you must make love to me Plaxton. I haven’t felt passion in my heart since the great orgy of Mount Olympus on Earth 778.” Plaxton gave a reluctant sigh. He didn’t really want to bang Circe, but it had been some time since he had lain with a woman. “Fine” said Plaxton “it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten my pencil wet, now disrobe so I can fuck ya!” She obeyed, and they totally did it.

“Now that that’s out of the way, what is the plan?” Plaxton shouted. “Well, we’ll travel throughout this earth’s timeline and give influential authors a little push towards their success. Our first mission will include me transforming you into a raven to rap on Edgar Allan Poe’s door.” POOF Plaxton was transformed into a raven and transported to Baltimore in 1844. Plaxton knew the story well. So he flew to Poe’s house, tapped 3 times upon the door. “Tis some visitor,” Poe muttered, “tapping at my chamber door-- only this and nothing more.” “Oh no,”  Plaxton said “I was supposed to rap first, what do I rap? What will give Poe the power to break his anti-creative chains?” Plax decided to sing from the heart. Poe heard but a faint whisper. “Speak up please. I’m unable to hear you.” Plax transformed his whisper into a roar. He rapped the most appropriate rap he could think of, Diamonds & Wood by UGK (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uijHb5U1pD8).

Having seen a raven drop the tightest rap he’d ever hear, Poe sat at his desk and wrote a monster poem, saying to himself “Fucking schoolchildren throughout time will be forced to read this stupid goddamn thing forevermore forevermore.” Next Plaxton was transformed into a sewer clown and was dropped off inside a storm drain in little Stevey King’s neighborhood. When little Stevey finally walked by Plaxton shouted at him, saying “come float in here with me you little nerd, or go back to your house and write something cool.” Stephen King entered the sewer, saying that writing was gay and gay was a sin. Plaxton then used his sun gun and incinerated the young boy right there in the sewer, and he made RL Stine watch. RL Stine went on to write It and many more of Steve King’s classics.

Plaxton wasn’t very happy with his next mission. He had to pull the trigger on Ernest Hemingway’s shotgun, assisting him in suicide. Turns out that suicide creates a huge creativity increase across the globe. His final mission was an unplanned one, but involved another suicide. This time it was to rescue himself from his own suicide. He went to his house in highschool and found his younger self on the floor. Young Plaxton had swallowed too many pills. Plaxton picked himself up and forced his finger down his throat so that his younger self would throw up the pills. He did! Plaxton successfully rescued himself from suicide.

“Wh… Who are you?” Young Plaxton asked. “I’m the Quantum Exile, and I’m also you from the future. I’ve come back to rescue prominent literary personalities and will fill the future with creativity.” “That’s a really cool story” said Young Plaxton “maybe I’ll write it someday.” The two shared a hearty laugh. Then Plaxton said “so I’ve got an idea on how to return me to my own Earth and time, but you may not like it.” “What is it Old Plaxton?” “If we jerk eachother off, it won’t be gay, but the act of the paradoxical masturbation might shift and skew the cosmos in such a way that it sends me home to correct itself.” Young Plaxton didn’t really understand the science of it all, but said “what the hell, it’s not gay or anything.” The pair jerked each other off, finishing on the other’s tummies. “Damnit! It didn’t work… again.” Plaxton lamented. “Again?” Young Plaxton questioned. “No time to explain Young Plaxton, go on writing, you’re one of the greats kid!” Young Plaxton watched as his future self was teleported away by what appeared to be grecian magicks. “I become a pretty cool guy.” Young Plaxton thought.

In Circe’s chambers she screamed at Plaxton “ You were not to rescue yourself from suicide, you oaf! You were supposed to die, then this version of you would fade away and I would raise our baby together. I would raise him as a Jehovah’s Witness, just like his mother.” Plaxton sighed, knowing he’d have to perform yet another abortion. But Circe was prepared for this sort of reaction “You won’t abort this one Exile, if you move a muscle I’ll turn you into a pig for the rest of your life with my dark grecian magicks.” Plaxton looked defeated, just long enough for Circe to bring down her guard, then he said “can’t cast spells if you can’t see” he then scraped his temporal counterparts jizzum from his tummy and flinged it into Circe’s eyes blinding her. “AAAAHH” she screamed. Then Plaxton drew his sun gun and blasted Circe into the next life. Disintegrating her and their unborn child. Lights surrounded him, as he was whisked away to the next Earth, he thought to himself “will I ever find love?”

To Be Continued...

...in this sentence. Earth was different than Plaxton remembered. When the ship lowered itself and Picayune, Mississippi came into view - the pine trees and mobile homes that were painted on Plaxton's mind as his cherished memory of home were gone. In their place were smoldering piles of ash, scattered groups of weeping people and animals fighting over charred corpses all stretching out unto the horizon.

Plaxton exited the ship as the futuristic gangplank shot out. "WHOOSH!" "CLUNK" All of the people, the whites of their eyes shining like gems from their soot-smeared faces, now stared at Plax. "Is it him? Is it the messiah?" Whispers scattered out from the groups of people like so many cockroaches and deformed mutant mice which skittered about.

Suddenly, as Plax began to walk to the edge of the ship's docking bay to better take in the scene, a hologram-like visage of Lindsay Lohan flickered into view. Plaxton shook his head, befuddled, and taking one step back, took another one forward just as soon to reach out to the visage, grabbing at its breast. The hologram flickered again as Plaxton's hand passed through, a rope of sand. Plaxton looked down at his empty hand and back up again at the hologram.

"What foul sorcery is this?" Plaxton creamed out of his mouth indignantly.

In a broken, computery voice, the hologram spoke: "I am the spirit of this world, and I brought you here. The inhabitants of Resurrection Life Fellowship made me, and left me. Their R&D department created me to guide the next saviour to our planet."

"I...I don't understand..." Plaxton looked confused as ever, and a small fart escaped his now tightly-clenched asshole.

"Our world has undergone devastation. I am just a recording, but it is my duty to inform you that until you solve the mystery of what happened here, and make right what has been wronged, you may not leave," the hologram stated, matter-of-factly. The hologram wore no clothes, and Plaxton wished he could stare at it's greenish-pink flickering nipples forever, his zipper now under tremendous strain from his engorged penis.

"So I'm...here to save everyone?" Plaxton asked.

"Set right what was wrong...," the hologram of Lindsay Lohan repeated, and flickered out into nothing.

"Wow...talk about a freak friday!" Plaxton said, excitedly. He looked around expectantly. Only the vast wasteland greeted him, no laughs for his incredible joke.

Plaxton adjusted his eyes once more to the filth that lay before him. Suddenly, his eardrums were assaulted:

"JESUS?!!" - a shrill scream rang out.

Plaxton was still standing at the top of the gangplank when a little girl with only one leg, hobbling on the stump of a bone ran up to him and bowed at his feet. She continued shouting the name of Christ as more people gathered around the ship. Plaxton noticed a noise welling up among those gathering around the ship...he recognized it after a few seconds, the large group now forming around him was singing "Our God is an Awesome God". Plaxton swallowed nervously. A tiny drop of urine dripped from his wiener, creating a dark spot on his khakis. If he had a pickle, he would have swallowed it whole.

The song swelled up to an incredible volume. All around Plaxton people gathered, bowing. The whites of their eyes were leaking rivers of tears, stripping the grime from their faces just as they were hoping Plaxton would do for their souls.

Suddenly, the singing stopped.

Everyone bowed at once.

In the silence, Plaxton took one deep breath. He looked out for a brief moment over the pallid, urine-colored wasteland - his empire of dirt - he closed his eyes, and then spoke:

"It is me. Jesus Christ."

The end?

Nay, a beginning. The people looked up at their new god and beheld him - the small, moist stain near where the head of his penis stood obscured behind his pleated khaki pants not darkening, widening - as was Plaxton's soul. Deep down he knew this was wrong, to lie to these people. But who gets the chance to be a God? On either of his shoulders, Plaxton had the spirits of good and evil, and for Plaxton they manifested in the spirits of Edgar Allan Poe and Anton LeVay.

"Go ahead...say something fucked up, Edgar whispered in Plaxton's ear."

Anton, ever the voice of reason, argued caution: "Plaxton, you have a real opportunity here, to find out what happened to these people, and make things right. Use this power wisely."

A cool wind blew across the wasteland and against Plaxton's face. Plaxton once again closed his eyes for a brief moment and spoke:

"I have brought you all a new Bible, a new word from the Lord. Please wait here"

When Plaxton returned from the cavernous guts of the space ship, he was wheeling a dolly full of cardboard boxes. Clumsily settling the dolly, Plaxton began unloading the boxes and passing out copy after copy of "On the Hills of Insanity" After passing out around a dozen copies, Edgar once again appeared and spoke into his year: "why the fuck are you doing all the hard work? Make someone else do this shit!"

Plaxton nodded and wrung his hands greedily, now becoming drunk with power. Plaxton harshly ordered a young retarded child to begin distributing the books, and, with sharp gestures, ordered several overweight people (of which there was no short supply, this being Picayune, MS), to form a sort of human couch upon which he lounged while the masses opened the books and began reading with wonderment.

.....

Weeks had passed, and the spaceship in which Plaxton arrived looked more like a shrine - adorned with banners that read "Hosanna!", fake, plastic plants and altars made of stone. Plaxton lay lounging on his human couch, several of the people who comprised it now deceased. Plaxton was picking bits of food from his teeth with a fragment of bone.

Stretched out in front of him, lines upon lines of people had sojourned here like it was a sort of Mecca, making a holy pilgrimage to just lay their eyes upon Plax.

The day shone bright, and from behind the silver sheet that hung from horizon to horizon the heat seemed to come from all angles of the sky - one of the lasting effects of this nuclear wasteland's greenhouse gasses blanketing the atmosphere.

Plaxton sweat profusely, he wore a dark "V" of sweat upon the front of the red robe he was wearing.

"Fan HARDER!" Plaxton barked at the weary children being forced to fan him with giant palm fronds. Their bony arms moved in rabid motions. One of them fell to their knees in exhaustion.

"To the pit with him." Plaxton said, not moving his head or removing his gaze from some unknown spot on the horizon.

Guards wearing the skulls of boars and little else swooped in and carried the exhausted child off to a deep pit not twenty-five yards from the deck of the spaceship. As they got nearer to the pit, the child could hear groans and see crude, sharp spikes fashioned from railroad ties protruding from all angles. The guards didn't stop their pace, and just as they approached the edge of the pit, they tossed the child carelessly in, and turned around just as soon, headed back to the spaceship. They didn't even pause a moment to watch his frail body impale itself upon a railroad tie which had already skewered several bodies, the most recent of which seemed to still be twitching and writhing in pain.

"Tell me, Paul." Plaxton addressed a bishop close to him, designated with the various bird feathers which adorned him and his face painted to resemble a skull, "do you recall that song...by Joan Osborne..."What if God Was One of Us?"

The bishop cleared his throat nervously, "why...yes...of course my Lord."

Plaxton shot out a hyena laugh which echoed for miles out into the wasteland.

"Well," continued Plaxton with a smarmy grin, "it seems we finally have an answer to that question. So what do you think?"

He stared directly at the bishop, Paul. Paul knew better than to meet Plaxton's gaze. Many men who had done this had not lived to tell about the horrors they discovered deep within those inky pits in the centers of his irises.

"I think..." Paul stammered,"I think it's really nice."

"Very nice...yes..." Plaxton resumed his gaze into the horizon from his human-couch while gently rolling a booger between this fingers. His robe lay open in his lounging pose and his genitals waved gently in the warm breeze.

"Tell me, Paul...what is our progress on Mission Omega?" Plaxton ejaculated.

"My Lord, the progress on Mission Omega has..." Paul stammered again in his typical style, "...we've hit a wall, my Lord."

Plaxton grew visible angry. He flattened the booger he was rolling into a small, grey pancake which he flicked over the edge of his space ship. "Every time we get closer to an answer about what happened to this place...we hit another wall. What was it this time? Mutant muslims? That angry mob of children that's melded together and roams the wasteland tearing other living beings to pieces?"

"My Lord..." Paul interjected, "It's Jennifer Love Hewitt. She's demanding you make love to her again before she allows us to venture into the uncharted zone." Paul gripped at his robe of raven and turkey feathers nervously.

"BUT WE AREN'T MARRIED!" Plaxton burst from his position, his robe barely hanging on his shoulders. The rows of pilgrims raised their heads to look upon Plaxton in his rage. His genitals now prominently jiggling and his member slightly engorged from anger.

"I will NOT have sex with ANYONE. ANYONE until we're married! Have you told her that?" Plaxton looked at Paul and asked.

"We've told her, m'lord, but she insists the love-making ritual is necessary for passage. My lord...she demands you cream pie her." Paul looked more nervous than ever.

Plaxton turned away from the rows of pilgrims, looked down at the floor and sighed.

"Paul, how sure are we that Hillary Duff is dead. You know I won't make love to another woman knowing I didn't save myself for her." for the first time since he landed here, Plaxton seemed genuine, and emotional.

"M'lord we've looked everywhere, Mission "Come Clean" has given little hope. My lord you could be looking forever and we could never find out..."

"Don't you think I know." A single tear formed in the corner of Plaxton's eye. He and Paul were now gazing deep into each other's eye-holes. "We'll never find out what caused all of this unless we explore the uncharted zone. I know..."

- Three Weeks Later --

Plaxton stood on a scaffold of metal and plywood, which itself was crudely strapped to the backs of about a hundred or so worshippers as they moved forward on all fours. Several of them had passed away from exhaustion, and their dead, limp bodies were bumped along by the movements of the others like rag dolls. The entire structure, offensive to almost every sense, shook violently with each lurch forward. Paul stood at the helm of the contraption, periodically whipping the human mules below, causing ribbons of blood to shoot out from the sides.

The sun bore down on the tin roof of the vehicle, if you could call it that, mercilessly, and the metal around the rest of the machine popped and groaned as it stretched in the immense heat.

"M'Lord! Paul screamed over the loud droning of the contraption, "we are approaching the uncharted zone!"

"Fantastic," remarked Plaxton, nonplussed, lying on a bed of infants, some living, some passed. Flies surrounded him like a halo of shadows.

Just then, Paul noticed a figure in the distance. Lone, clothed in rags, it's face covered but for some steampunk looking bullshit like goggles or whatever protruding from its face.

Paul Squinted. The figure raised something to its shoulder. A facet of the object shot a glint of the sun into Paul's eye. Before he could open his mouth all the way in a warning, a bullet pierced Paul's left eye, and from the front of his head, Plaxton could clearly be seen sitting 15 feet behind him - he had caught the bullet in his fingers.

"Halt!" Plaxton commanded.

The human, metal hybrid stopped its crawl.

Plaxton walked to the front of the scaffold, he kicked Paul's dead body off of the front and it crumpled into a bloody pile with a soft thud.

"Ashley Tisdale..." Plaxton said plainly. He knew her scent from a mile away.

"Shouldn't you be making cooking tutorials?" Plaxton smirked, he was pleased with himself for making this joke.

Ashley Tisdale removed the rags covering her face, and set her sniper rifle down in front of her. She shouted back, "ain't no cooking tutorials no more, we've inherited a world of dust, lust, and lies."

"I like that those two words rhymed. I don't know if you're aware but I was a poet in another life." Plaxton ejaculated.

"Of course I knew, I know everything about you, and I know why you're here as well." volleyed back Tisdale.

"I have to find the cause of this, and I think it lies beyond those mountains..." Plaxton pointed at the towering, shadowy peaks in the horizon.

"You're also here to find your love. Hillary Duff isn't here. You won't find her anywhere." Tisdale shot back when she turned her head back from her gaze at the mountains.

"Look...what was between you and I are over. I got your Facebook messages. My heart belongs to Hillary Duff, and I can't send you a dick pic." Plaxton could now no longer make eye contact with Tisdale, becoming strangely interested in his shoes out of the awkwardness of the situation.

The space between them now seemed immense. Below, one of the human mules coughed up blood. For a brief second the blowing of the wind and the warm caress of the dust it carried in it was all there was.

 Earth 1812 

 Messiah Complex 

A bright light appears a dissipates in an instant. Our hero Plaxton is now joined by a team of otherworldly Refugees. Exceptional people who volunteered to assist him throughout his extradimensional odyssey.

“Where are we now Dr. Hawking?” asked Plaxton. Renowned physicist Stephen Hawking turned his thought controlled hovering chair to face his mighty leader Plaxton. “Connecting with my transdimensional locator now… this earth is designated earth 1812 in the registry. It appears there is a population issue on this planet. There is an abnormally high volume of female humans on this Earth in relation to their male counterparts.”

“Doesn’t sound like such a bad problem to me. Heh!” laughed Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. “Don’t get yourself too riled up Martin, we have to take this seriously, this Earth needs our help.” Plaxton cautioned. “Now Hawk, what’s our purpose here? I’m not gonna have to bang my way into another dimension like I did on Earth 377 am I?”

Plaxton awaited an answer, still a bit off put by his companion’s robotic and lifeless voice.

“Running simulations now. Our best course of action should be to contact the leader of the planet and offer our services as sperm donors. I can supply these Earthlings with cloning technologies and they can breed enough males to correct this destabilization.” explained Hawking.

“Alright, you heard the man team, pack your gear and let’s get to this planet’s leader. RL you’re with me.” Young RL Stine was only 11, but had become like a son to Plaxton. “Oh, before we go, who is the leader of this Earth?” Plaxton inquired.

Hawking almost hesitated to say it, but could not let Plaxton go into this mission ill prepared.

“Lord Empress Jennifer Love Hewitt rules over this entire world.” answered Hawking.

(Queue Quantum Exile theme song that Zach still hasn’t made yet)

A special place in Plaxton’s heart is reserved for Jennifer Love Hewitt. On his home Earth she was a superstar celebrity that Plaxton had masturbated to many times. Her show the Ghost Whisperer was a delight indeed, as it combined Plaxton’s favorite things: spirituality, horror, supernatural stories in a real world setting, and 45 minutes of JLH cleavage.

“Welcome Quantum Exile” she said. “We’ve been expecting you for some time now.”

As he and his team approached the JLH’s throne, Plaxton’s penis started to become erect. He couldn’t avert his gaze as his approach made Jennifer’s cleavage became more clear with every step.

“Welcome Quantum Exile” she said. “We’ve been expecting you for some time now.”

Plaxton took a deep breath. He needed to sound assertive, but also respectful to the Earth’s leadership. “Empress Hewitt, if you know of me, then you know I’m only here to help. We’ve arrived on this Earth and discovered that your male population is unsustainably low. My team and I offer our services to provide samples of our own genetic material and assist you in the development of cloning technologies. My science officer has run several simulations and found this to be a viable solution to your particular problem.”

“I see” declared Hewitt. She then paused for 3 beats longer than that of a comfortable pause. “We will accept your assistance, under one condition of course. I will be extracting Mr. Emmon’s sample personally, now everyone leave this throneroom immediately! Everyone except for the Quantum Exile of course.”

Plaxton’s now fully erect penis began to throb.

“Cum on my cleavage Plaxton, cum on my Ghost World cleavage.” said Hewitt as she jay oh’d Plaxton’s member.

“It’s Ghost Whisperer!” Plaxton grunted as his ropey nut painted the fleshy mounds that were Jennifer Love Hewitt’s breasts.

“Good. Good boy. Now guards take him away” the Empress commanded.

“What!” said Plaxton as he reached for his gunbelt to blast the scantily clad royal guard into the next life, but it was too late. They shot him in the back of the head with shotgun. A rubber slug would kill an ordinary man at such close range, but this was no ordinary man, this was Plaxton Emmons, the Quantum Exile. He was merely knocked unconscious and imprisoned in the dungeon.

When he awoke and found himself in a dank and dark cell he exclaimed “Jesus Christ, what the fuck?”

Jesus was, as it turns out, Plaxton’s cellmate. “I beg your pardon my son?” he asked.

“What the fuck is going on?” Plaxton repeated his inquiry.

“It’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses Plax, they use this world as a breeding colony. That’s why it has so few males, they’re taken away to another dimension to be raised as JW’s.” Jesus explained.

“You’re different that the Jesuses that I’ve met in the past. You must be the roaming Jesus, the one they call the Quantum Messiah.” Plaxton declared.

“You nailed it right on the cross Plax, I am indeed the Quantum Messiah, just as you are the famed hero the Quantum Exile!” Jesus replied “As for our current predicament, your arrival presents an opportunity not only for escape, but a possible return to our home dimensions! All we have to do is jerk eachother off. The act of manual stimulation by two Quantum outcasts could create a paradox that the only way the multiverse could correct is by resetting…” Jesus is interrupted by Plaxton.

“... Ahem. Uh Jesus, not that I’m not flattered, but I’m well aware of this trick.” Plaxton said.

“Oh.” replied Jesus.

“Yeah, I use it myself on occasion on my parallel counterparts. I figure there’s no real harm in it. We’re consenting adults and all.” Plaxton explained.

“I understand… Well I am just embarrassed, my bad Plax.” Jesus apologized.

“No… No need Jesus. We’ve all been there. Hell, if I hadn’t just now emptied my balls on J Love’s ample bosom, I’d probably be into it.” Plaxton assured Jesus. “How long have we been in here?” Plaxton asked.

“You’ve been out for about 6 hours” Jesus answered.

“Ok, well it won’t be long now.” Plaxton replied.

“Won’t be long until what?” Jesus asked.

“One of my companions, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. survived an assassination attempt on his Earth. It was a Ion bomb implanted in his car. It went off as Martin was paying for his dinner at the drive thru window of a Popeye’s chicken. Apparently the woman in the window was a large breasted ebony goddess that aroused him immensely. The bomb went off and somehow Martin absorbed all of the ionizing radiation, but now whenever he gets hungry and horny at the same time, he transforms into a super strong hulk that calls itself Doc Kang.” he Plaxplained.

He continued “If it’s been 6 hours and our guards are still scantily clad, Doc Kang is going to lay waste to this castle.”

BOOOOMMMM!! Just then an explosion shook the dungeon violently. A voice echoed throughout the halls of cells. “IMMA GET MINES, DOC KANG DON’T PLAY BITCH”

Doc Kang was loose. He freed Jesus and Plaxton. Violently humping then eating every woman he came across. Finally he humped and ate his way to the Throneroom.

“DOC KANG DON’T EAT NO PUSSY, BUT HE’LL ALWAYS TAKE A DICK SUCKIN’” Doc Kang shouted at Jennifer Love Hewitt.

“I’ll comply, I’ll blow you if you promise not to hurt anyone else and leave my dimension.” the Empress pleaded.

“DOC KANG GON PUT THE NUTS IN THE ASS AND THE DICK IN THE PUSSY, DOC KANG GON’ FREAK THIS BITCH OUT, CLOWN ON THAT HOE!” Doc Kang replied.

“No Doc Kang! Stand down!” ordered Plaxton.

With a tear in Plaxton’s eye he atomized Jennifer Love Hewitt with his sun gun. He took one last mental image of her amazing rack as he blasted her into oblivion. “DOC KANG WON’T BE DENIED, I HAD A DREAM TO GET MINES.” an enraged Doc Kang approached Plaxton menacingly about to attack him. Luckily Jesus stepped in and used his healing touch to transform him back into mild mannered Martin.

“Well Jesus, this was quite the adventure. I hope to meet up with you again down the line someday.” Plaxton said as he bid farewell to his new ally. “Likewise Quantum Exile. Stay golden, you beautiful bastard!” Jesus replied.

Plaxton’s penis fluttered a little as Jesus beamed into the next place. “RL did you chronicle the events that transpired here? Plaxton asked.

“Yessir, I did just as you asked and kept notes in my journal. They’ll help you write a book someday about your adventures, whenever you return home that is.” A beam of lighted blanketed the area and our heroes were whisked away to a new Earth and a new wrong to right.

 Earth 666: 

 A Diabolical Debacle 

This new world opens up as a glowing blur. Our hero the Quantum Exile Plaxton Emmons can’t quite get his bearings. He can barely see, but his skin itches and burns all over. He hears a voice as his eyes finally adjust to his surroundings.

“Welcome, Quantum Exile...” the voice says.

“Wh… where am I?” Plaxton interrupts.

Plaxton’s vision is restored and he peers into a hellish landscape. Everything appears to be decayed on the surface, but burning from within.

Finally his host steps from the smoldering shadows, revealing himself to be the devil himself. Plaxton hardly looks surprised. To him, his otherworldly odyssey has lasted a handful of eternities. This is not his first hell dimension.

“Hello again Satan…”

(Queue Quantum Exile theme song that Zach still hasn’t made yet)

Satan grins as he stares our hero down. “Well let’s get on with it. You make your bargain for my immortal soul, I reject you, and then I’m sent to the next universe. Honestly, this is getting really old.” Plaxton ejaculated.

“Oh I didn’t bring you here to bargain Mr. Emmons. At least not in such simplistic terms. You’re here because I’m retiring. I’m done with the whole ‘ruling over Hell’ thing and would like you to be my replacement.” Satan announced.

Not knowing quite what to say, Plaxton stood in silence, creating a long awkward pause. After dry humping a few scenarios in his head, Plaxton finally asks “Am I supposed to say something, or do you just give me the keys to Hell, in other words, stop jerking me off here Satan, how does this work?”

“Ah so you’re interested!” Satan replied. “You will have to complete 3 trials. Then I will give you my pitchfork and the key to Hell and you will rule over it. You will have unlimited power in this realm.”

A tunnel that looked like an anus, but made of stone appeared as Satan said: “Merely enter this way to begin the first trial.

Plaxton took a deep breath and entered the giant stone butt hole.

Plaxton walks through a fog until he comes across an above ground pool.

“This is no ordinary pool.” Plax tells himself.

“That’s right Exile!” Satan says while appearing out of the fog. “This is an above ground pool filled to the brim with ranch dressing. Your first trial is to… “

Before Satan can finish his sentence Plaxton leaps and dives into the pool and using nothing but his hands begins to eat the entire pool of ranch.

Satan covers his face in disgust. “I had a spoon and a napkin that you could’ve used!” he snarled. This was not how he expected the first trial to go. But when you lead a Plax to Ranch Dressing, you won’t have to force him to take a drink.

Plaxton readily ingested every last drop of Ranch. Sitting at the bottom of the empty pool, the Quantum Exile chuckled.

“Is this the best you have to offer Satan. I could eat three pools of Ranch and have.” Plaxton boasted.

“Whatever you oaf, now follow that light for your next trial” Satan ordered while pointing at a light shining like a beacon through the fog.

Having only eaten 1/3rd of his maximum ranch allotment, Plaxton darted toward the light in a full sprint. All-knowing Satan could not have known that ranch dressing has a strange and powerful effect on Plaxton, but he was doomed to learn of it soon enough.

Satan then spewed forth a lot of exposition, describing in lengthy detail the rules of the next trial: “The next trial is to test your prowess at torture. Torture is Hell’s biggest import and export, it’s pretty much the only reason to visit. So, Plaxton, if you’re to rule over Hell, you must prove your proficiency as a Tormenstruator. You have before you items that you can use to torture the Earth’s most vile villain in your known history. Mother Teresa!”

Plaxton was fast asleep in a ranch coma.

“PLAXTON!!” shouted Satain.

“What? I’m up, I’m up. Jesus.”

“These are the items you can use to torture Mother Teresa: a grapfruit, a saucer of milk, a golf putter and silly puddy. Choose your weapon carefully Exile, this woman doesn’t scare easy.” Satan said.

Plaxton looked at Mother Teresa, then back at Satan.

“So all I have to do is torture her?” Plaxton questioned

“Yes, there’s a whole paragraph about it a few lines up.” Satan replied.

“I don’t know what you mean by that, but if it’s an attempt to break the 4th wall I don’t play that shit Satan. Now I choose no weapon. Only to speak to the woman.” Plaxton said.

Plaxton walked casually over to Mother Teresa. Satan couldn’t quite make out what he was saying to her as he was just out of earshot.

Then Plaxton and Mother Teresa began to disrobe. Satan stood mouth agape as Plaxton created the exact opposite result the trial was meant to test. Her pleasure levels were at an all time high. Even watching children starve and hoarding medicines away from the sick didn’t bring her this much delight. She moaned in uncontrollable passion as a sweaty Plaxton ate her old wrinkly puss. Hours turned into days. He even called for a few demons to wheel in another pool of ranch. That really got the juices flowing.

After six thousand geriatric orgasms, Plaxton wiped the ranch and vsauce from his mouth and Satan began to clap.

“Plaxton. You’ve failed. This woman has never known such delight and splendor.” Satan wryly exclaimed.

“No Satan, the truth that we’ll never make love again for all eternity will be more torture than anything a grapefruit could do.” Plaxton answered.

Mother Teresa wept, from her eyes and from her nethers.

Plaxton had passed the second trial.

Satan sulked through the fog, leading a plucky Plaxton through his hellscape.

“Now for the third and final trial.” Satan groaned.

An enormous theater curtain appeared.

“Your final trial is not even a trial at all, but a TRAP!!” Satan shrieked as he pulled down the curtain revealing a knight in shining silver armor.

“It’s just a knight?” Plaxton asked

“Not just any knight” Satan answered. “This is a Jehovah’s Observer, a high ranking berserker lieutenant in the armies of the Jehovah’s Witness. I put this whole ruse together to get rid of the Quantum Exile.”

“Pretty fuckin dumb plan Satan.” Plaxton said as he brandished Satan’s pitchfork and twirled the key to Hell around on his index finger.

Satan was stunned! “What? How did you get those?!”  he shouted at Plaxton.

“Oh just a little trick Harry Houdini taught me on Earth 572.” Plaxton Plaxxxed. “Now, you might not be Jehovah, but you’re sure gonna witness this.”

Plaxton used his new power over the realm of Hell to conjure a third pool of ranch dressing right behind the armored Observer. He then flew at lightning speeds grabbing both Satan and the Observer by their throats, one in each strong hand.

Plaxton drowned Satan and the Jehovah’s Observer in the pool of Ranch dressing, killing them both.

After eating the rest of the ranch, Plax summoned his Quantum companions.

“Commander Emmons!! We’re so happy we’ve found you!” squealed young RL Stine.

“Good goobly doo Plaxton!” said Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

“Great to have you back sir, but I must ask, what exactly happened here?” Stephen Hawking asked after seeing the dead bodies lying on the floor. The ranch licked clean from their corpses.

“It’s a long story Hawk, but suffice it to say, I’m the King of Hell now. Well I was the King of Hell.” Plaxton said as Mother Teresa appeared.

Plaxton gave her a long passionate kiss, then gave her the pitchfork and key.

“Mother Teresa, you are now the Queen of Hell, you’ve earned it!” Plaxton shouted.

A bright light shown through the dark smoky hellscape as Plaxton and friends were transported to another dimension. Then darkness. For a new Hell was about the be born.

 Earth 6857: 

 Racism, a Dish Best Served Blackened 

Beamed into another parallel version of his home planet, Plaxton knows something is very different this time. He immediately looks down at his hands and gasps. The countless dimensions he has visited previously could not have prepared him for what eye’s beheld. The Quantum Exile’s skin was… black.

Queue Quantum Exile intro theme music Zach still hasn’t made yet.

Blaxton kept his cool and looked to his crew. They had all been transformed into African American versions of themselves. Stephen Hawking, now a black man in a hover chair. Edgar Allen Poe, now a whimpering and frightened ashy black man. Young RL Stine, black, and finally Dr. Martin Luther King Jr…. but white though!

“HAH! Now you crackas will get to walk a mile in the black man’s shoes!” laughed MLK.

“Hawk, what do you think our objective is? I want off of this world ASAP. I always said if I could be black for one hour, I’d probably just shower for the entire hour. No offense, Doc” Plaxton said.

“Offense taken man, that ain’t cool” MLK jabbed

“Hmmm this world is taking longer for my tech to ascertain the source of this world’s disturbance.” Hawking answered in his cold and robotic voice.

“Well, why don’t we head down to a pub and come up with a plan, plus I wanna take my white ass and my white privilege out for a test drive.” MLK announced.

The team arrived at the nearest bar  and as they entered the bartender shouted “We don’t serve your kind here!”

“Sorry niggers looks like y’all gotta good gobbly go! HAHAHA!!” said MLK as he broke into laughter!

His laughter stopped short though, as he looked around the bar. It hadn’t occurred him that all the bar patrons were black.

“Did that bologna eatin’ casper just say the word nigger?” shouted the bartender.

The bar patrons rose from their seats, there was about to be a lynching.

Blaxton attempted to diffuse the situation by saying “Dis heeya white boy been out in da sun too long ya see. He be workin’ fuh me. Y’all just be good goobly gettin’ back to y’alls drink nao.”

The entire bar stood still, frozen in time. For just a moment Plaxton thought about drawing his sun gun from it’s holster and blasting these innocent, yet racist, men into oblivion.

Fortunately, Blaxton’s ebonics worked like the charm and the blacks of the bar went back to their libations.

Edgar Allan Poe whispered to the team “Oh my good fellows we need to go now.”

The team agreed and as they got back onto the street they saw that the whole world had been flipped turned upside down.

The race roles had been reversed, the black’s were on top and white’s a minority. “But what about the Mexicans?” asked RL Stine.

"Mexicans are rarely ever significant in any capacity, ever." said Stephen Hawking.

Stephen Hawking’s armband bleeped as information was finally done being compiled about this blackwoods world. “In order to move on to the next world, we have to get the first white man elected President.”

“It just fucking figures…” MLK chimed in “I get turned white, but I’m still the goddamned minority.”

Plaxton consoled his old friend “I’m so sorry Martin, it seems, at least where we’re from, God really has it out for you people.”

With the facts of their new reality set in, Blaxton asks Hawk about their next move. Luckily, Professor Hawking has a plan! “There’s a white man here that is just black enough that the black’s here don’t fear him. His name is Morgan Freeman!”

“Ha! On my Earth Morgan Freeman is a black man who’s just white enough that the white’s don’t fear him. He’s an actor too!”

Timid Edgar Allan Poe rarely speaks up, but being a creative type believes that he and young RL Stine can approach this white Morgan Freeman and convince him to run for office. With Stephen Hawkings brain power we can run the most efficient campaign ever and with Plaxton and MLK for muscle, nobody on this Earth can stop them from achieving their goals.

Weeks turn into months and months to years, but finally the plan has come to fruition. President Elect Morgan Freeman, the first white president on Earth is making his inaugural address.

“I stand here today in awe of my fellow Americans. Who saw through the pale color of my skin, straight through into my very soul. We will no longer build walls and barriers to separate people by race or religion, but we will build bridges to bring us closer together. For my first act of office I will take steps to ensure that white children receive the same education and opportunities that… “ BLAM!!! A gunshot. His speech never to be finished.

Blaxton cut through the crowd to find the new President’s shooter, but what he saw was something even a Black Quantum Exile would’ve never expected. It was none other than white Martin Luther King Jr.

“I’m sorry Plax. I just couldn’t do it. I preached equality my entire adult life, but, here, looking at a world ruled by the Black’s, I just couldn’t let a white man change that. I just couldn’t let it happen.”

Blaxton looked down at MLK, his hands still shaking while holding the rifle. “Doc, maybe that’s the lesson we were sent here to learn. Maybe we’re just all a little racist. We all just want our own kind to be the best.”

Catching up to the duo Professor Hawking says “That is the single dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, but it doesn't matter, all we had to do was get him elected and we did. We're about to be transported to the next world. Biggest waste of time ever.”

As the transporting light beams brighter Blaxton says “I didn’t even get to have sex in this one…”

To be continued…