What the fuck, man?

I know you’re there. Where else would you be?

Fine, go ahead and ignore me for now.

You’re going to have to reckon with this eventually.

Sorry, I was dealing with some garbage in the other room. What can I do for you?

You know why I’m here. Seriously, dude. Don’t bother trying to run me around.

I know you’ve got this whole ‘hands off’ ethos. You want to let things play out on their own, and I respect that.

I can’t relate, but I can respect it.

But don’t you think this is going a bit far?

Hmm. You’re going to have to be a little more specific. I haven’t really kept up with anything outside of my current sphere of influence.

Look, I’ve had kind of a rough couple hours, so maybe we could cut the bullshit.

I just got back from dealing with an insipid spinoff game, and was about to hunker down for another busy afternoon working on a little thing called the miracle of fucking life.

Then, as usual, I took a moment to check in on the competition.


Oh, Candy, right.

Huh. You shouldn't be able to see any of that.

Normally I can't. I just spend some time staring at that post-canonical singularity, and imagining what asinine nonsense is going on inside. But today was different.

Today was the day SHE decided to show her face.

The dead cherub.

In all her hubris, I assume that she considers the pocket inside to be hermetically sealed and impenetrable to my gaze, which is why she felt comfortable leaving it behind in order to pursue me.

But in doing so, she created a brief puncture in the singularity's membrane, just long enough for her and a couple others to escape.

Sure, the puncture would reseal itself quickly, everything inside would once again vanish from my awareness, and the poor souls within would be left to wallow in their pointless existences for eternity.

But for a brief moment, I could see everything.

And it was so much worse than I could have possibly imagined.

There I was, minding my own business,

Spying on everyone you've ever loved.

When all of a sudden I'm whip-cracked around the face with a wet towel dipped in highly concentrated narrative pissery.

Is that why you were lying on the floor?

I was resting.

You might be living it up in retirement, but some of us are still busy men.


You know I don’t mean it like that, dude. Absolutely no shade. You did your time.

You, more than anyone, can appreciate what it’s like to have a full schedule.

But that's not the point. This is about Her.

Why does she exist.

Yeah. Uh, give me a second... where are we. Oh, Yiffy? What’s wrong with Yiffy? Yiffy rules. Everybody is going to love Yiffy.

I sincerely fuckin’ doubt that.

Really? I mean, look at her. Well, you can’t look at her yet, because her design hasn’t been revealed. But what’s not to love? Don’t you like nice little girls, Dirk?


Oh, come on. Don’t be weird. She’s a cool, normal, all-American teen and I will hear absolutely nothing against her.

She isn’t an American.

America doesn’t exist anymore.

I think that’s a matter of perspective, don’t you?

That depends on whose perspective we’re talking about.

There’s only you and me here, Dirk. And I really am just asking you what the hell you think is wrong with my wonderful, precious daughter, Yiffy Longstocking Lalonde Harley, who has never done anything wrong ever in her life?

Look, I appreciate a shtick. God knows I got a couple myself. But I’m going to put a stop to this farce right here. Stop talking to me like I’m just another one of the herd.

You know I’m not like the rest of them, even as far as antagonists go.

There’s no need for you to play the same games with me that you did with them. You can’t fool me with the tricks you pulled on that psychotic cherub. You aren’t going to rile me up.

What, you mean Caliborn? He was just a kid with a learning disability. Wow, Dirk. I honestly didn’t know you had such a problem with children.

Well, that’s a lie. I did know that.

I’m not like Caliborn.

I think that you are, though. Here you are, running to me for help at the first sign of trouble, just like he did.

First of all, I didn’t run. I moseyed.



Looked to me like you dragged yourself across the rough cavern floor and put a tear in your fancy anime pants.

Asking for a timeout from the referee isn’t the same as begging for an illegal foul.

It falls perfectly within the rulebook.

You think there’s a rulebook?

Of course there is. Even utter chaos operates within parameters. A hurricane can destroy your house but it can’t set it on fire .

I’m not sure what to tell you. If you’ve got issues with the direction the story is going, feel free to drop us an email. If you’re looking for an explanation, then you’ll have to wait for the commentary like everybody else. That patreon tier is a little expensive, but what isn’t in this economy?

This story? It sucks. You’re doing a bad job.

Okay. What would you do differently?

I’m doing it. Here, on Deltritus.

I’ve got everything in my section of the narrative under control, don’t worry about that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the occasional stirring of concern for those who got left behind. That brief glimpse I got was like getting hit in the eye with a full load of feelings spunk.


I don’t think there’s been a single moment in that stupid timeline that hasn't resulted in a stirring heart-to-heart or a repaired relationship between two long-lost family members.

That is what stories are about, Dirk.

Okay, sure. But it’s not what THIS story is about.

Then what is it about?

I really shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you that.

Right. But you want to anyway.

It’s about unity. Cyclical harmony. The unstoppable pull of constant conjunction. It’s about the impossible cosmology of a seemingly meaningless group of events that come together to form a cohesive whole. Pulling form from entropy.

Nothing you just said actually means anything. This is undergrad stuff. Just because you’ve read a couple wikipedia articles you think you’re an expert on Aristotelian Poetical Unity?

Now that is also made up.

Maybe. I don’t see how this has anything to do with Yiffany.

It has everything to do with Yiffany. Who even came up with that name?

It’s pretty good, right?

Even though her very existence feels like broken glass screeching over my frontal lobe, and having to contemplate her is like a blockage in the sleek, flawless arteries contained in the body of my valuable time, I will allow that yes. The name is pretty good.

Then what’s the issue? I thought you could appreciate irony, Dirk.

I’m a little bit beyond "irony guy" at this point, aren’t I?

I don’t know, are you?

That’s beside the point. Because Yiffy isn’t ironic. She’s just stupid.

I doubt that’s true, considering who her parents are. Are you calling your own granddaughter stupid?

Not stupid as in unintelligent, jackass. As in, her inclusion in the story makes no sense. It adds nothing of value. It’s worthless. It’s a big gaping prolapsed plothole.


Where does she live, how did Jade and Rose hide her for 15 years?

Oh, that? She was at boarding school.

Boarding school.

Yes, Dirk. Boarding school.

What boarding school?

Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls.

You made that up.

I made you up.

Fine, whatever. Don’t tell me. But would Jade honestly hide her own daughter from the rest of her friends?

I don’t know, would Jane fuck a clown? Would Karkat become a blatant Metal Gear Solid reference?

I’m just saying, there’s only so much bullshit everyone is willing to put up with. You throw enough spaghetti at the wall, yes, shit is going to stick. But if you throw too much, pretty soon that entire wall is nothing but spaghetti, and you’re getting complaints from the neighbors, because all of that gluten is starting to eat away at the structural integrity of the building. It just becomes mush.

Much like this analogy.

I’m trying to help you. This sucks. It’s nonsense.

And your endeavor to breed two competing races across eons is, what, reasonable?

Not reasonable, exactly, but thematic. Understandably epic. Worthy of having a story told about it. Not some discourse-baiting bullshit that the Wokeness Police are going to feed on for weeks before the next update.

I think I need to pour myself a shot after that sentence. Since when do you care about wokeness?

Since when do you?

Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you, Dirk. I’m trying to suss out exactly what your problem is with this development. I have some theories, but I’m working within a world limit here. So let’s cut through the chaff and go straight for the wheat.

You know what I think?

Yes, I do.

No you don’t. Your melodramatic baby god powers don’t work on me. This goes both ways, Strider. I can’t control you, and you sure as fuck can’t control me.

So, let’s try this again. You know what I think?

I don’t care.

I think you’re scared of her.

Scared of who?

Of Yiffy.

Wow, sorry, this conversation was so irrelevant I completely forgot what it was even about. Me. Scared of Jade and a shittier Rose’s spawn? I have to laugh.

Then why are you shaking?