GYSO Reviews Part 91 - Happy 7th days

Published: 2026-05-03

Thim is smoking a handful of cigarillos at once, typing on his laptop with one hand and one foot.

Thim: They’re saying–

Snag’darr: That Thor and Tim wouldn’t have let this happen?

Thim: Uh, huh.

henry nods. somehow.

Thim: Go ahead, henry, have some more cake.

henry: thanks i’m full :)

On the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion Living Room Table is a giant cake. It explodes. The end.

Thim (covered in cake): Why.

Snag’darr: Well, there goes the birthday cake for the cake’s birthday. –GYSO blog, I guess. Whomp whomp. Stroke. Call ambul-ake.

Big Erectus Babe: It’s the will of the words.

Bunny: Be silent, Jesus.

Thim goes back to browsing the internet, sipping from his coffee cup with a hole in the bottom. Then, he reads something and spits out his coffee, doing spin kicks!

Thim: WHHHHHATAATATAATATATA?!

Big Erectus Babe dodges the kicks using his ninja skills!

BEB: Watch out–!

Thim: ATATATATATATATA

Sara (with two police officers close behind): Is this really how you want to celebrate the 7th anniversary, three months late?

Thim (out of breath): Eh, does it really matter? We missed it by, like, a month and a half anyways.

Sara: What did I just fucking say?

henry: who are those officers? :O

The police officers immediately draw their weapons, on paper, pretty well actually, shouting for the person responsible to show their hands, lie on the ground, do the macarena, and [redacted].

Snag’darr (recovering from his stroke, because that’s how it works): Calm down, everyone. That’s just our aloe vera plant.

Sara: They’re here to escort you to the graveyard. Please don’t come back.

Thim: FINALLY!

Emerging from behind the officers…

Goopy Droopy: You see, o’ clenched one–

Weird faces from everyone.

Goopy Droopy: As in butt-clenching. You are a man of such horrible, monstrous, terrible, smelly smell, that it rustles my jimmies. I clenched my booger brain together to form the marvelous idea of visiting the graves of Thor and Tim. As an act of respect.

Henry (the aloe vera plant): what’s a butt? can i have one?

Sara: We’ll tell you when you’re older. But– I mean, right now there’s some security detail or something since people seem to hate The Blog more than ever.

Thim: … Can we stop by IKEA? I need a new cake bomb.

What the hell?

Thim: Something about hearing their names, uh, triggered my Swedish sensibilites I think.

Bunny: This diologue is a placeholder for something funnier, father.

Thim: Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only sane one here.

(he says to his talking shoulder-bunny)

Turning a corner, approaching the gravestones of Thor and Tim…

Thim: Alright Goopy, just so you know, I’m not here to play nice with the graves.

Putting on a beret, Thim then shakes a paint can in one hand and balances a palette in the other.

Goopy Droopy: My good friend, you must know–

They catch sight of the graves, and Thim retches, bending over at the overwhelming smell of rotting pepperoni.

Thim: What– the fuuuuck?!

Goopy Droopy (in exposition mode): Tim was buried in pepperoni, as was stated in his will, and it is sustained by the money he put in a trust to keep the pepperoni topped off when the animals eat it. It attracts a certain smell, one I can percieve spanning into the future, and across a city block.

Thim: Ugh! Look at this! Everything’s all knocked over, and there’s giraffe– I mean graffiti everywhere! There’s no good spots left for me!

The Giraffe Graffiti Gang is a menace, but the art is pretty good so most people think it increases property value. This does not spark their joy. So they draw penises, which isn’t advertiser friendly. The rest of this joke is blocked in your country.

Goopy Droopy: I know, my immortal friend, it is a tragedy of the highest–

Thim: Fuck that! I wanted to defile it!

Goopy Droopy: Also, may I interject that the joke was certainly of the highest caliber.

Thim: Thanks, I wrote it myself.

Thim looks directly at the audience and waves.

The audience laughs. LAUGH DAMN IT. LAUGH!

The audience is scared. As they should be.

The rest of this joke is blocked in your country.

Thim: So tell me, Poopy– I mean Goopy. How did they die?

Bunny (sitting on Thor’s headstone): Weren’t you there, father?

Thim (pulling out his evil rectangle): …Hold on let me check that post.

…

…

Yeah. He was there.

Goopy Droopy: But you have not yet accepted their passing, I see.

Suddenly, Melon Musk shows up, head projected out of a tree in a big ass(gay) hologram like the Wizard of Oz.

Melon Musk: THREE WISHES–

Thim: Get the fuck out! Can’t you see I’m mourning?

Goopy: …Are you?

Thim is pissing on the graves.

Melon Musk: FAREWELL. THERE WILL BE NO SECOND CHANCE.

Thim: Yeah yeah, go fuck yourself. That’s my wish. Good luck.

Melon Musk’s melon disappears in a puff of pepperoni-scented smoke. It’s a bit excessive considering the current state of smell. The President will have to make a ‘state of smell’ address later this month.

Bunny: Father, why.

Thim: Why what?

There, kneeling in the graveyard in front of the graves of his… parents? Creators? Soul-fuckers? He kneels there, eyes closed, trying not to vom at the smell of pepperoni, and a single tear escapes his left eye. His right eye is more manly, of course, and doesn’t cry.

Thim: I hate both of you so much. Go fuck yourselves.

Bunny: You have such a way with words, father.

Goopy: I smell pancake dinner in our future, friends. Shall we embark?

Thim gets up, wiping the single tear away.

Thim: Yeah. Let’s go.

The dies (which is convenient because they’re already at a graveyard).

The end.