32Vriska calls out a very reasonable question, but before John has a chance to answer, the slimey, sweaty clown stands upright, only half of his torso visible. He straightens his spine, even falling backwards just a bit, then summons a grotesque noise from what John and Vriska hope is his throat.
GAMZEE: My WiCkEd BrO yO mA jOhNoThAn HeRe FrEeD mE fRoM mY cOlD, sLiPpErY pRiSoN.
GAMZEE: AnD lEt Me TeLl YoU, sIsTeR, iT hElPeD mE dIsCoVeR tHe GoOd WoRd ThAt I mUsT sPrEaD tO aLl Up AnD dOwNrIgHt DaMnEd SoUlS oF tHiS mOtHeRfUcKiN pLaNeT.
VRISKA: The ‘Good Word’?
VRISKA: Who fucking cares, shut up Gamzee!
The joyous clown now wears a sorrowful frown, though it’s only a moment before he switches back to his usual smile, with his eyebrows still arranged in a sympathetic position. He outstretches one arm and closes his eyes, almost as though he is about to perform a sermon.
GAMZEE: Oh YoU wOuNd My PuRpLe MoThErFuCkIn HeArT!
GAMZEE: HaVeNt YoU hEaRd, SiS? bOuT mY rEdEmPtIoN aNd ShIt?
VRISKA: That sounds like a lot of hoof8eastshit.
GAMZEE: So YoU hAvEnT uP aNd PeRcEiVeD tHe GlOrIoUs NeWs?
GAMZEE: IvE bEeN mOtHeRfUcKiN rEdEeMeD, bIzNaTcH!
GAMZEE: HeLd A wHoLe FuCkIn CeRmOnY aNd AlL tHaT.
GAMZEE: NoW iVe BeEn SpReAdInG mY rEdEmPtIoN tO tHe DaMnEd, GiViN tHeM a SeCoNd LeAsE oN tHeIr FuNkY lItTlE lIvEs.
Alright, that’s MORE enough of this shit, Vriska thinks.
VRISKA: Alright, that’s MORE than enough of this shit!
GAMZEE: EnOuGh Of MoThErFuCkIn WhAt?
GAMZEE: If AnYbOdY nEeDs SoMe Of ThIs SwEeT sWeEt ReDeMpTiOn JuIcE, iTs YoU sIs.
He brandishes a milk bottle from seemingly nowhere, and points it down at her in a manner that would imply he’s offering some. He squeezes the bottle a bit and some of its contents land unceremoniously in the grass nearby.
VRISKA: F8CK NO.
She limps over to the machine and begins to power it on, turning a key that seems to have been left there. The woodchipper begins to purr, and comes alive.
GAMZEE: HeY nOw, WhAt ArE yOu DoInG?
GAMZEE: KiLlIn A rEdEeMeD mOtHeRfUcKeR sUcH aS mYsElF aInT gOnNa BrInG yOu AnY fUrThEr On ThE rOaD tO rEcOvErY aNd AlL tHaT sHiT.
Vriska doesn’t respond. Without even looking up to dignify his words with a glance, she pulls a lever.
CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH.
The sound of desperate clown screams are heard as the gears turn. Chunks and shavings of meat are plastered into the outer circle of the clearing. The machine begins to spew out quarts of purple blood and white liquid. Before he is eaten entirely, Gamzee lets out one singular, and very final,
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!
A cold silence fills the air for a moment, and the machine powers down. Airships fly above, but they’re so high up that the noise is drowned out by the calming breeze. Vriska collapses to the floor, blood splattering from her face onto the grass around her. John takes a minute to reflect on everything that just happened, and decides to blow away most of the clown shavings in different directions in the wind, while captchaloguing the remaining bits. He grabs Vriska and starts to fly away, but as he looks back, he notices something in the mouth of the woodchipper. Gamzee’s horns never went through?
He realizes the significance of this event, and figures somebody might want these as a souvenir. The clown horns enter his wallet, and Vriska is flown to the hospital.