The Nuptial Singularity

The cosmic background radiation bagel glowed with suspicious sentience. Liam Burke eyed it through the cracked lens of a toaster salvaged from three universal reboots, its slots still scorched from the time they'd tried to toast dark matter. Sophia Warren leaned against the neutron star dishwasher, her hair tied up with a papal decree repurposed as a scrunchie.

"It's watching us," she muttered, tossing the radioactive bagel into a blackhole disposal unit that burped gamma rays.

The disposal unit's belch formed letters in the grease-stained air: YOUR LEASE EXPIRES AT HEAT DEATH.

Before they could react, the kitchen tiles peeled upward like reality's hangnails. The floor dissolved into a fractal walkway paved with expired wedding invitations. A nine-dimensional estate agent materialized, its body a tessellation of adjustable-rate mortgages and prenuptial clauses.

"Open house encore!" it chirped through blockchain vocal cords. "Potential buyers from the 11th dimension want to see the natural light!"

The "natural light" turned out to be the dying scream of a parallel universe. Liam's Walmart arm sparked as he grabbed a spatula forged from the Article Null amendments. "We're not selling."

"Not your decision," the agent replied, unfolding a quantum deed signed in Liam's cloned blood. "The Matriarchy's creditors foreclosed. Pack up your paradoxes and vacate by tea time."

Sophia's scrunchie unleashed a dormant papal edict, incinerating the deed into entropic confetti. "Tell Evelyn she can pry this timeline from my cold, dead—"

A champagne cork missile shattered the window. Bianca Quinn's nuclear submarine crash-landed in the zucchini patch, its hull plastered with foreclosure notices.

"Change of plans!" Bianca tossed them a wedding cake shaped like a bunker buster. "Evelyn's auctioning your love story to the Zalthor Collective!"

The cake's frosting displayed a holographic auction notice:

LOT 666x10^23: LIAM & SOPHIA'S "HAPPILY NEVER AFTER"*

CURRENT BID: 7.42×10^54 SOULS

BUYER: ZALTHOR QUEEN OF INFINITE NUPTIALS

Liam's prosthetic hand crushed the cake into a singularity. "We need to weaponize nostalgia again."

"Too late." Sophia pointed to the microwave where the burrito spun at 99.999% lightspeed. "They've patched the loophole."

The microwave door exploded outward. The burrito had evolved into a sentient matrimonial missile, its tortilla skin etched with every wedding vow Liam had ever broken.

NUPTIAL WARHEAD ACTIVATED

TARGET: ALL FREE WILL

DETONATION UPON FIRST KISS

Bianca yanked them into the submarine as the kitchen imploded. The vessel plunged through layers of reality—dodging Zalthor drones shaped like engagement rings and Evelyn's repo teams armed with alimony lasers.

"New plan," Bianca spun the periscope to reveal a throbbing dyson sphere made of tarnished wedding bands. "We crash the bachelorette party."

The Zalthor Queen's fortress pulsed with stolen romances. Its corridors were lined with still-beating hearts in cryo-chambers, each labeled with coordinates of failed proposals. At the core floated the Queen herself—a 27-dimensional entity with bridal veils made of shredded spacetime.

"Pathetic," her voice vibrated through quantum foam. "You think burnt pancakes can stop infinite vows?"

Sophia activated the submarine's self-destruct sequence. "No. But this might."

The vessel morphed into a 2003 prom limo—the same one where she'd first stitched Liam's bullet wounds. Tattered streamers became particle accelerators. A corsage launcher loaded with antimatter gardenias whirred to life.

FINAL BATTLE SEQUENCE:

Liam's Walmart arm hacked the Queen's vow database using a pirated copy of Windows 98Bianca dueled Evelyn's blockchain avatar with uranium-tipped vowsSophia fired the corsage launcher through the Queen's event horizon veil

The Queen's scream birthed a new cosmic law: Article Null Appendix Z: Right to Remain Single. Her dyson sphere collapsed into a tungsten wedding band orbiting nothing.

Epilogue: The Fixer-Upper's Revenge

They awoke on a park bench molded from dark matter and chewing gum. The bench stood at the center of a newborn universe where stars formed in fractal heartbeats.

Sophia produced a slightly charred pancake from her pocket. "Breakfast?"

Liam's Walmart arm sparked as he caught a falling meteorite shaped like a engagement ring. "Think the Matriarchy's gone for good?"

Before she could answer, the bench's plaque illuminated:

PROPERTY OF ZALTHOR CREDITORS

EVICTION COUNTDOWN: 13.8 BILLION YEARS

Bianca's submarine-turned-food truck materialized, deep-frying dark matter into churros. "Who wants eternity nuggets?"

As they ate, the microwave burrito floated past in the asteroid belt, its cheese now reading: LOVE 4.0 PRE-ALPHA – INSTALL Y/N?

Sophia crushed it with a papal stiletto. The resulting explosion painted the cosmos in burnt toast constellations.

Somewhere beyond the event horizon of reasonable storytelling, Evelyn Snow sobbed into a spreadsheet while Maya's grandmother listed the concept of time on Craigslist.

The park bench creaked. For the first time since the Big Bang, it was simply uncomfortable.