Hello, I’m Zim Big Bang Theory, and the last time I guested on the podcast you’ll remember that two of my biggest, and therefore best, boys, had been travelling around the circular space station from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, hang on, yeah, wait – I’ll fill you in.
My name’s Bam Margera Zeus Persephone, and I’m a bloke who is absolutely enamoured with the theory and practive of big boys. Now you’re up to speed, thanks.
So there I was, in space, in the 2001 ship, my big boys orbiting in tear-jerking circles around me. Something you might not know about my lads is their their peculiar behaviour with regards to the speed of light. That is, they are able to – and fucking love going as fast as – it. These high-jinks ended up in a spectacular collision of such impact that I winced and said “fuuuuckin’ ell”. As a monolithic big boy God particle flashed into existence, these were the words that welcomed it into reality.
Like I said, don’t worry about it.
As you can imagine, when a beautiful and quite franking whopping great God is born, there’s a big flash of light. So bright that it almost distracts you from the smell of burning meat as the gravity of the high-density deity reached the Earth. Every single one of my massive, lovely lads got sucked into a super dense boy vortex
I was tempted to jump in, I can tell you! But that would have been a profound blasphemy, so I just played pocket billiards as all the Big Boys started floating up into the sky to join what an unkind observer would call a big bouncy fuckball
That was pretty much the Season 1 finale to my adventures with my lovely cavalcade of Big Boys. Like I said, twice now, don’t worry about it.
Because this is the beginning of Season 2, and I’m absolutely going to leave you fucking guessing. Like at the end of Man in the High Castle, when you get someone going between the two worlds, and you think “oh great, things can start HAPPENING now,” and you watch the next episode thinking “maybe it’ll get a bit of a clip on with the plot now”, and does it bollocks
So I want you to imagine me, where I found myself, lying in a field, back on Earth somehow, with a crow hopping around me, wondering whether I’m worth pecking. I can sense that all the big boys have gone. All my precious, hand-fed lads. Knocking about in another dimension conjured by a God of their own creation. Don’t get me wrong, good luck to ’em.
But needs must when the devil drives, as they said in the 15th Century, when I was born. So I’ve decided to branch out a bit. So you can imagine my bewildered sense of hope when I walked past a cinema that was showing a film called Little Women.
This looked like something that was really outside of my comfort zone, which is the area I am legally obliged to demarcate with Police tape, because it is the zone in which you can get pregnant from my cum farts.
So I sat down, got myself a palmful of salt from the vending machine, and sat down to watch “a film”.
First of all, I was struck by the size of the women. Whilst they weren’t big, say, compared to all the tables and doorways in the film, they weren’t so little that you could really justify the name of the film. And the fact I was watching it on a massive screen really robbed their littleness of any real impact. I took me stepladder and measure up to the screen and can confirm that at times, these so-called little women’s heads were in excess of six feet in diameter. During one dramatic zoom into a little woman’s head, I was so startled that I fell off my stepladder and into the front row, which certainly did nothing to stop everyone else in the room shouting “what are you doing you fucking idiot”.
This portrayal of this unexpectedly very big women brought my loss flooding back, and I just started – well, not crying as such. Coughing? Slurping, rasping? Just making big sounds with my mouth while I grabbed onto people’s trouser legs and said “I just want ‘em back, Daphne”
After 64 minutes of just honking and farting, I pulled myself together. Come on, Zim. This is a movie made by professionals. They wouldn’t just call it Little Women for no reason. I had to be missing something. Then I remembered that someone had once tried without luck to explain subtext to me. “Read between the lines,” they said. And I looked at them for five seconds before I said “what the hell are you on about”. But those words came back to me.
Maybe to see the little women, you had to “read between the women”.
So I went cross-eyed like the world was a Magic Eye picture. And I swear I saw them. Inch high ladies, complimenting each others hair as they phased in and out of the floaters in my aqueous humour. So I crossed my eyes ever further, a saw billions of of microscopic ladies, screaming in delight as the air that carried them rushed in and out of my lungs.
And that’s all I remember as the security guards carried me out of the cinema and into an ambulance. When I woke up, the doctors said they’d never seen anyone whose eyes had crossed so much. I told them I missed my big boys, and they said yes, the great ascension was still a mystery to everyone.
I thought about trying to explain, but just then a labrador came into the ward, and someone on a drip said “THERE’S A DOG IN THE HOSPITAL!” and everyone started cheering. And it got me to thinking: if we made chihuahuas out of wolves, what’s to stop me doing the opposite with men? To breed a “next generation” of big boys out of the putty that passes for a species on this planet?
So I picked the two slightly above average blokes and made them hold hands. Now I’m gonna sit here for the entire gestation period of a big boy, which if I remember correctly is six minutes. This hospital will see me repopulate the Earth with wonderful, big boys. And if I doesn’t go to plan, if I just end up making lots of bonky wrong uns, aberrations in the eyes of the God who left me behind, then let him come and face what I have wrought! Let him face my bonky Golden Chocobo
That’s it. I’m ending on a Final Fantasy VII reference and there’s NOTHING you can do about it.