GYSO Reviews Part 99 - 99 Problems, Part 99, 1000 Papercuts, Part 1000: Once upon a time there was a post on gyso that real people wrote and then you looked at it hello! You are here, right now, alive and reading this, this is your moment. Live for it. Also trying to get Tim and Thor back, to make this title a bit longer lol. Blah blah blah blah, welcome to the home stretch. Welcome to the rice fields. I’m tired.

Published: 2026-08-23

Bunny: Father. Are you just going to pretend that the other 99 problems don’t exist?

Thim: Well, since you asked so nicely. What even defines a ‘problem’? If you are poor, is the problem that you can’t buy nice things, or that you’re not working enough? Does that count as two problems? One? Where is the delineator, the line? So I decided ‘fuck it’ and now we’re here.

Thim shows bunny the title. He holds it for him to see for a good while, since it’s such a long one.

Bunny: Father. I can’t read.

Henry (from a distance): hurry up over there! we’re doing one of those monster battles, remember?

Thim (shouting): I’m doing it!

Thim is doing it. A backflip. Wow!

He falls spectacularly, landing right on his face, the big disgrace. That is, he tries a backflip, and someone manages to make it so he lands on his face. That takes skill, man.

Bunny: Should I use one of my moves?

Thim: Bunny, use Roar of Time!

Henry’s Guy (remember that?) is the first to react. Looking particularly jaundice, he braces himself.

Bunny starts to vibrate, glowing a sickly blue color, so bright the shadows lean away. A minature fuzzy wuzzy star.

Bunny: OOOOOOOO–! RAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

Thim is numb at this point.

Thim: Oh no. Don’t do it. Or whatever. Ugh. I guess this is the consequence of my, uh, actions? Yeah.

BOOM!

In the distant future…

Guy slowly returns to a normal, human, stance.

Thim gets up out of the pile of ash.

Bunny buns on his shoulder.

Henry exists. Remember? He’s a character, too.

Thim: Okay. First things first, we have to establish what year it is. I mean, we obviously went forward in time. That’s how it works now. Nobody even has to establish that. Henry, can you use your, uh, PSYCHOATICH ABILITIES???!?!?! to check?

Henry: my powers are not to be used lightly like that, thim.

Henry is busy making a toothbrush dance, the air itself whistling the trolololo song.

Thim: Whatever, we’ll have to fall back on our visual. Bunny, what do you see?

Bunny: Father.

Bunny is busy doing buns, nuzzling his soft little head against Thim’s neck. Do bunnies make sound? If they do, he’s also making cute bunny sounds. If they can’t, then he’s still adorable in his own way.

Thim: Stop making that sound, bunnies don’t sound like that. I guess it’s time for my perfect vision to step in and take the–

Sara walks out of the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion, holding a newspaper. She stops when she sees them, and instantly falls to her knees in despair, crying out to the world.

Sara: Nooooo! They’re back! Why, cruel world, why?!

Thim: Sara! Tell us! What hath us missed? What year is it? Has Babe Ruth become president again for the tenth time? A real home-run politician, that guy. Hur hur hur.

Bunny: Father, please.

Sara sighs loudly and throws the newspaper at them. It catches the wind weirdly, and happens to hit Thim in the nose.

Sara: Come inside and I’ll explain. Gee wiz. I say that now. Dumba rumba, stoopid toopid.

Picking up the newspaper….

Thim: Wait, this is today’s date. I read these headlines this morning!

Sara: So what had happened was that we had realized you went missing–

A balloon pops in the distance and confetti falls from the ceiling.

Albert (waltzing in with a cake): Happy birthday to us! Happy birthday to– Oh, uh, Thim. I thought you went missing in time.

Thim: Uh, yeah, I guess not.

Sara: It’s been twenty minutes. We thought it’d be longer…

Confetti catches a single light, glittering. Wait, it’s a glitter confetti! On no! Sexy military men without shirts.

Thim picks up a broom.

Thim: The military works fast, and parties faster, I guess. Shoo! I’m back. There’s no need to celebrate. I was just starting this two-week’s GYSO post that I definitly remembered and playing with Bunny, and Henry, and Guy.

Guy waves an awkward wave, as if he’s PSYCHOTICALLY?! controlled by a puppet master in the form of an aloe vera plant. That’d be crazy though, right?

Thim: Has Guy always been wearing that cape? Wait. I mean, has he, Guy, always been wearing that cape? Wait. No. Has Guy been wearing that cape the whole time? Wait. Guy wears a cape now? Yeah, that one.

Henry: yes, totally– don’t mention it again pls :D

Sara: SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS… We figured out you were stuck in time, and we went to secure all the blog stuff.

Thim: Okay . So when I’m writing it you don’t want to touch it, but as soon as I’m gone, you’re all putting your grubby little blogless-hands on it, huh? You’ve never touched a blog in your life, and now you’re all over mine? Disgrace. Remembered how to spell it that time.

Sara: Wh– Blogless hands? Are you crazy? Actually, don’t answer that, I know the answer. Don’t ask me, but Albert wants it secured if you were to disappear. Thought of it when you were puttering around that Skegness time tower thing.

Bunny: What a callback, father.

ALBERT IS THERE TOO WOW!! GOOD THING WE INTRODUCED ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THE SCENE AT THE START HUH?!

Albert: But you see, there was a problem. There were several new posts on it that we haven’t seen before.

Thim: And it wasn’t the smut I write for fun?

Albert: No, we accounted for that.

Thim: And it wasn’t the fanfaction I write to inflict pain on myself?

Albert: No, thank you, we have an intern reading through those.

Thim: And it wasn’t the high-concept smut I write for my patreon?

Albert: Uh, actually, that’s new to me. I’ll have someone check into it.

Thim: And it wasn’t–

Albert: ANYWAYS! It was 90-something 99 Problems posts.

Thim: And does that include–

Albert: YES IT INCLUDES THE ALL THE 1000 PAPERCUTS AS WELL.

Thim: What’s that, 99-thousand posts? Exactly?

Albert: Well, actually, since 1000 papercuts started on part 3, you have to minus two… then, what followed wasn’t another set of–

Suddenly, Snag’darr!

Snag’darr: ROAR! I’m going to pick up some groceries? Need anything?

Thim: Yeah, get me a frozen pizza.

Snag’darr: Okay.

Snag’darr leaves.

To clear his head, Thim does something he never usually does – he exercises. Going for a brisk evening walk…

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The above technically counts as one word. This has been… Random GYSO Facts! Can you find your ‘x’? Because I can’t. Deleted that number.

Person: There he is! That’s the guy messing with time!

Thim starts speed-walking. But it’s illegal for Thim to exist in eighty countries, and also…

Police: Hey, stop it! You’re wanted for time-related law-breaking rule…ness!

Thim starts jogging.

Two clown cars block off his path. Out of it exits… Seven clown-outfitted mobsters, four dapper small people carrying clown machine guns, two ants tagging along, five golden rings, and a ten ton wooly mammoth wearing a grenade vest and smoking a cigar, that takes this change to flee into the city to live his dream of starting a nice corner store bakery. Then getting shut down for getting wooly hair in the bread.

Clown: Stop, see! Melon Musk wants a word with you, see? Nyah!

Tjom falls from the sky in a blaze of glory! Too bad for him, he didn’t invest in a good pair of Nike brand shoes, buy now and just do it or whatever the logo is, so he DIES ON IMPACT. AHHHH!

Thim starts running. Seeing what’s up a head, he lets himself get tackled into the nearby bushes.

Elf: Quiet! There’s no time to talk.

Elf Two: Well, there is just barely enough time to get this message through, but not much more.

Elf: Exactly, so be quiet and we can get along with this.

Thim: Okay, fellas. Not that I don’t love the banter, but what the fuck?

Elf Two: Santa F. Clause wants you riding with him on his North Dong. Not like that. You’re a wanted man, and he can offer you a Safe Space(TM). Not like that.

Elf: Like, housing for you and your friends, and booze.

Thim: Booze sounds nice, to be fair. But I could get nice booze, it sounds, at the fair. But fair’s fair, I could get nice sounds at the booze…

Elf Two: This takes me back to that first time we tried to kidnap you at the old mansion.

The Elfs sigh nostalgically.

The scene doesn’t do any flashback or anything, so it’s just a sort of awkward pause in the flow of everything. Don’t you ever get tired of being silly?

Elf: Let’s go, before Albert starts dancing.

IN A CRAZY TURN OF SUDDENLY! THIM IS ON THE RUN FROM THE LAW!!@!

HE HAS TO GO THROUGH A BUNCH OF TRIALS AND TRAILS AND TRAIL MIX! HE PICKS THE TRAIL LESS TAILED! ELF AND ELF TWO ARE THERE, AND BUNNY FINDS HIS SHOULDER LIKE A TRUE FRIEND!

AND FINALLY, THEY REACH THE TOP OF MT DOOM, AND THIM THROWS THE RING INTO THE LAVA (or is it magma?), AND GETS TELEPORTED TO SANTA’S BASE AT THE NORTH DONG, WHICH IS STILL ORBITING THE EARTH FROM THAT ONE PLOT WAY BACK!

AHHHH DRAMA!

Santa: Santa.

Thim: Thim. That’s my name.

Santa: I know, didn’t I just say so?

Thim: No, you just said your own name.

Santa: Ah, I must have spaced out. Because I’m in space. Get it?

Awkward silence.

Thim: This really is just a regular office, huh? I always thought you would be working out of something a bit more… extravagant. Like hell pits or something. But no, you have “Management 201” sitting right there on the bookshelf next to “Violent Christmas Through The Years”.

Santa: Really, it’s standard literature when you’re Santa Clause. I’m a monster, but I do actual work, as well.

Thim: Speaking of which, how is Beachhouse?

Santa: Ah, he’s still in his cum jar– I mean glass jar.

Thim: Oh. I thought the jar was just something to trap him in. Not, like, his actual prison cell. I imagined you would have something with steel bars or something for that.

Santa: Well, it became his cell because we were too lazy to write in something better.

Thim: What?

Santa: What?– Thim, listen to me. You have to stay with me for a while on the North Dong so that everything can blow over on the surface for you. All this time shenanigans, the whole twenty minutes of it. The media hates you running the blog. The human rights activists wants you to give back the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion. Maybe it’s time for you to take a rest from all that?

Thim: You underestimate me. I don’t care about that. You make it sound like it drains my energy, but it really just gets me going, you know?

Santa: Listen to me. Melon Musk is after you. The people who decided Snag’darr can’t fly in the city anymore are after you–

Thim: How do they expect to stop a dragon? He’s a fucking dragon.

Santa: It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you and I have a good, working, relationship. That’s why I sent Elf and Elf Two to get you, and why I sent them again to get your friends. Because we trust each other.

Thim: You’re a total bad guy, you feed on world conflict. I know because I was God of War after I beat you in Made-up-Ball, remember? Remember the plot? The plot? Remember?

Santa: Oh, I remember. The difference is that I won’t go after the blog. Unlike that damn Albert, snooping around, asking questions he doesn’t understand…

Albert (snooping): Are there more holes or frames in the world…?

At the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion

Elf: It was all AI generated? The filler 99 problems post that aren’t actually up on the site?

Albert: I’m afraid so.

Elf Two: In just the twenty minutes that they were gone?

Albert: The web scraping robots have become the web scraping AI.

AND THEN SUDDENLY! THE STAKES ARE HIGHER THAN EVER!

THE BLOG IS GETTING TAKEN OVER BY WEB SCRAPING ROBOTS WHO HAVE EVOLVED INTO AI.

IT’S A NIGHTMARE!

THIM CAN’T SAVE THE BLOG THIS TIME BECAUSE HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK.

WHO WILL SAVE GYSO?!

WHOOOOOOO??!??!?!?

Elf Two: We have to save GYSO?

Elf: That’s what the voice in my head says.

Elf Two: How?!

Elf: The one thing nobody wants. The heroes we don’t need or deserve.

Elf Two: You don’t mean–!

The sky is covered in rolling black clouds. Thunder claps its asscheeks while sneaking past the guards. The Sun weeps silent plasma tears.

Elf: We need to get Tim and Thor back.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUN

The dies.

The end.