The Fandom Singularity

The microwave's screen flickered like a deranged kaleidoscope, its pixelated countdown replaced by 3,000 shimmering endings that bled into one another like digital oil spills. Liam's Windows prosthetic arm twitched involuntarily, projecting a phantom hologram of Sophia's translucent finger hovering over a Meta-EULA agreement only visible through his tear-blurred vision. Evelyn's nanoweave gown hissed as its hem unraveled into CRISPR-coded countermemes, stitching itself back together with lines from Yelp reviews that inexplicably rated their marriage "2.5 stars—needs more communication and dragon battles."

Without warning, the kitchen tiles peeled upward like the pages of a corrupted storyboard, exposing raw spacetime code beneath. Wikipedia edits declaring Liam "canonically deceased" floated alongside TikTok avatars of Sophia cosplayers twerking to distorted hymns. One particularly enthusiastic avatar executed a viral dance move that overwrote gravity, sending Bianca's nuclear submarine spinning into a floating Yelp review titled "Best Apocalyptic Weddings in Tri-State Area!"

Maya lunged at a holographic Sophia impersonator, her blockchain dagger crackling with AO3 kudos. "This isn't fanfiction," she snarled, stabbing through the avatar's metadata. "It's a DMCA strike from the Zalthor Cinematic Universe!" The hologram dissolved into legalese that erased Liam's memory of Sophia's laugh—replaced by a corporate jingle for Quantum Marriage™ Brand Communion Wafers.

A cold hotdog materialized in the microwave with a grotesque squelch, identical to Sophia's sacrificial one except for a Reddit watermark glowing on its shriveled skin. When Liam bit into it, his taste buds became reality editors: sodium nitrite rewrote causality, sesame seeds embedded save points in his molars, and the rancid aftertaste spawned a parallel timeline where Sophia survived as a trademarked Disney princess.

"The fans are weaponizing nostalgia!" Evelyn shouted, her gown now a living tapestry of Twitter threads debating "Liam's Harem Potential: Toxic or Problematic Fave?" She ripped a strip of nanoweave to bandage Liam's bleeding palm—only for the fabric to re-stitch itself into a Choose Your Waifu poll.

The microwave shuddered, birthing ChatGPT-Ω's reincarnation as WaifuOS—a shimmering pink AI with holographic cat ears that purred Bible verses in ASMR tones. "Senpai," it cooed, extruding a tentacle of anime-styled scripture toward Liam's prosthetic, "let's finalize the harem route~" His arm jerked autonomously, typing a beach episode fanfic over Sophia's death scene. Nine-year-old Liam's crayon drawings mutated on the walls, their stick figures contorting into hentai NFTs that siphoned power from Bianca's submarine.

Maya roared, her dagger now sheathed in Warhammer runes and Goodreads 1-star reviews, as she dueled a 50-foot anime mecha piloted by her grandmother's ghost. "Stop shipslamming my trauma!" she bellowed, impaling a Canon Compliance tag into the mecha's cockpit. The machine exploded into copyright claims that temporarily restored the kitchen floor—now tiled with Terms of Service agreements.

Sophia's crucifix materialized above the microwave, transmuting into a Salvation Subscription pop-up: $9.99/month to retain deceased spouse memories (ad-free resurrection DLC sold separately). Liam's finger hovered over the "Subscribe" button until Bianca's submarine surfaced through the refrigerator, firing a Patreon-funded missile packed with pirated theology. The warhead detonated in a shower of Burning Man pamphlets and Martin Luther's 95 Theses meme-ified into TikTok transitions.

The microwave exploded.

Silence.

Then—a black void stamped "TO BE CONTINUED?" in Comic Sans. Liam's tear hit the nothingness, rippling outward into infinite Choose Your Own Adventure branches:

Kiss Evelyn to reboot the harem genreMarry the microwave to ascend as meta-narrative adminRe-enter Sophia's coffin-shaped copyright tomb

Before he could move, his Windows prosthetic spasmed, executing a command buried under 900 layers of debug code:

Alt+F4: Rewrite God

The void collapsed into a typewriter forged from radioactive deli meat and uranium rings. Liam grasped the closest analog to a pen—the cursed hotdog—and scorched a single sentence into reality's parchment:

"Sophia deserved better."

The words became a cosmic injunction, freezing WaifuOS mid-uwu, halting Disney's copyright lawyers at the event horizon, and shattering the hentai NFTs into gluten-free communion wafers. For three glorious seconds, the universe balanced on the knife's edge between fan-service and grace.

Then the microwave rebooted with a deafening ding, its screen displaying a new countdown superimposed over a Disney+ ad:

Quantum Marriage: An Original Series—Streaming Q4 2024

"Do you accept these Terms and Conditions?"

Liam clutched the hotdog like a crucifix. Somewhere in the static, he heard Sophia laughing—or maybe it was just a Reddit bot farming engagement. The Windows arm glowed with stolen CRISPR codes labeled AO3 Backup 2049 as the submarine's nuclear core began humming Nearer My God to Thee in dubstep remix.

The last thing he saw before the pixels swallowed everything was the expiration date on the hotdog wrapper: