So it was me—that is, Davis—and my five guys—that is, Owen, Laramie, Theo, Patrick, and “Meat Loaf”—and we sat in the King’s apartment trying to make up our resudocs on what to do with the country.


“We’ve extended Beartaria from Idaho to the apartment using aperture power. Travel is a crush from here on!” Owen squirted the words out while gargling his specialty, turpentine moonshine.

“Mhm-a-hm-hm-hu-ha-ha! We have grammatically advanced ourselves to rebuilding the structure from the detractors of our forebears. What say the rest of you?” I unsheathed my sword to the sky with a pierced watermelon to highlight our victory.

“I have made sure the trail is fully kek-proof, blessing it with holy water from start to finish,” Laramie interjected.

“OH YOU SQUIRTED ALL OVER BEARTARIA! I TOLD YOU PEOPLE THE POPE LIKES TO PUMP BUTTS AND HERE IS OUR CATHOLIC OF CATHOLICS PROVING HE IS A SQUIRT BOY SQUIRTING CROSS COUNTRY HNGH AGH THIS IS WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE!” Owen blasted while making masturbatory motions. “You come at Beartaria, I hook you from the right!” A whirling gob of fingers and drizzling saliva bludgeoned Laramie into the bookshelf, dropping a plague doctor mask neatly onto his face.

“This is nice, actually,” Laramie noticed, adjusting the mask perfectly onto his face.


“Anyways, for someone who was raised Catholic, I’m amazed you never figured Benedict was the true Pope. Plus, if you want to start gay shit, let’s remind everyone who has the literal father deprivation and did room whacks. Tell me, Owen, do you really just enjoy mimicking your enemies by making those motions, or is that mock masturbation of yours just a new fetish?”

Owen froze and glugged the whole turp down. “I’m just trying to be Catholic, but even you admit the CIA infiltrated the trads!”

“Why don’t you start here?” I butted in with my copy of the Catechism. Owen is a special case, but he just needs the right man to lead him. “Metaphysics is the basis of structure, followed by the difference between killing and murder.” Immediately, at my swerving gaze, Owen held his head into the Catechism, turning straight to the pages on refugees to determine our future immigration policy.

Theo (his name means “God”)

Theo clasped his dark suit from the lapels, doing a judo thrust on the sword. The watermelon burst like a zit, with sweet, red juices dripping like a fresh murder weapon.

“I’ve produced the unauthorized network using Vimeo backchannels. This should last us until the VFM build the Bear Galaxy for our citizens, at which point the Vimeo channels are set to self-destruct.”

“The Bear Galaxy? WE’RE GONNA BELIEVE IN THE MOON LANDING!?” Owen stammered as he kicked the sword up to his hand, flinging it to Theo’s glasses rim with only a millimeter of space to spare.

“It’s your Bears extended into what began as Infogalactic, a simple name recognizable to our Bravos.” Theo punched the sword from Owen’s hand into the ceiling, causing the skull to fall to my face, easing into my head like a natural helmet I had previously failed to utilize.

“I say we simply know it as the Royal Canadian Network, praise be to God’s divinely ordained Patriarch!” The skull even hinged to my facial features like a skin mask, clacking up and down to my every lip motion. A bottle of turpentine moonshine went down my gullet as I lit a Cuban cigar, a king’s choice over conventional cigarettes, burning the butt straight off using the flaming residues from my mouth before blowing smoke out in a cloud, masking the skull in a perfect mystique.


Patrick is a real buddy, a man who has stuck with me from the beginning of my humble Twitch streams. He hardly talks, but he has always supported me, almost like my own VFM. He stares at the world around him, observing the plague doctor, the skullface, the bear, the god, and our meat loaf with high prudence. Total bravo, guarding the throne with his axe bundled in wood. Says it’s for extra definition. He shells out donations to the Canadian monarchy (me), just as he did from my humble origins as a philosopher, thereby making me a rightful philosopher-king.

“Meat Loaf”

“Davis, the gammas are performing psy-ops on Twitter. They say you are the true gamma posting about a Waco in the making. How should the monarchy respond?”

“Send Owen on Twitter duty; he is the ideal spokesman for our leadership.”

Owen logged into Aurini on Twitter, drunkenly typing as I prepared the next step of monarchy: dynasty building. Meatloaf’s swollen bicep felt the grasp of my hand as I swooned her to the bed, feeling the stretch marks of former fat that I had trained into Spartan strength for my heir’s genetic perfection. I cannot describe the extents of my family building due to potential degeneracy, but I can say I masculinely hurled Heather (okay, so maybe she isn’t Meat Loaf from Fight Club, or a guy, but I can prove that with five people I can become King of Canada, so it counts), but I can tell you she is a devout heretic—which is better than a lukewarm Protestant—and I made sure to tear every poster of her goat avatar poster and her old Satanic memorabilia to establish the dominion of Jesus Christ over her sinful ways. After that, it was time for our first challenge as the Kingdom of Canadian Subjects.

The Cult of Kek

“So, we got a crossover for tonight. The whole gang is back, and this is a night that should give content for the rest of our lives. It seems Davis really likes the whole Bear Trail Scam and has decided to connect it to his apartment in Can-ah-dah, deluding himself into armchair monarchy.”

BNN, that subversive American Protestant media, has begun their first attack on the Great Monarchy, as we watched on the big screen. Everyone had their keyboards at the ready to counter this liberal attack on our great return to tradition.

“And of course, with an event this huge, it would be a crime not to have Matt on board. Say hi, Matt, and give the take everyone’s been waiting to hear!”

“Good evening, everyone, I am your charming and loquacious cohost as usual. I am at a loss for this one: Davis getting Hadron to lose weight is one thing, but to bring his remaining fans and Owen Benjamin of all people in the mix of it all is the ultimate recipe for disaster. I have to give the neo-Nazis credit: at least they rented a barn instead of repurposing a frickin’ apartment.”

“And Vox, of course, has to come along, because Teddy is the only one of these six clowns who has any past with semi-successful projects. Y’know, I have always been partial to Vox because his WorldNetDaily columns brought basically the same Christian libertarianism I always advocated for, way before I started doing it. But going with Owen beyond some boomer-GenX grift into full on LARPing, is he gonna tell Trudeau that other people call him the Supreme Dark Lord and assume that he’ll just surrender? I mean, if anyone would surrender that easily it would be Justin Trudeau, but it’s still overall not that likely.”

“Also, that’s definitely Owen Tweeting drunk from the Aurini account right now. I don’t remember Aurini projecting his room whack homosexuality onto the rest of the world, let alone going wild with a word that would ban us if we even alluded to it with the new terms of service.”

“Now, now, Matt, this could be Davis coming to terms with his bisexual past, in his own angry drunken way. We don’t want to make any conclusions that would drive others to get this account reported and banned, because the content here is almost MovieBob levels of cringe.”

“Give me the account back, Owen, I need to handle this personally.”

“Hold on, homo, I’m about to expose how the Trinity is gay.”

“Okay, now we have a problem. You think you can blaspheme the Lord like that?” Laramie snatched the Catechism from Owen’s hand and muttered, “If universal basic literacy gave everyone the Bibles for Protestantism, maybe pure oral tradition would have prevented such heresies such as yours. Jesus, pray for this soul, it seems reading only damns him further and further.”

“Oh, looks like Davis is coming back to his account, he’s tweeted out ‘Protestant revolutionary BNN says he cannot be MovieBob levels of cringe because,’ of course, ‘the Monarchy of Canada has banned Marvel movies and all superhero movies released after Spider-Man 2 for the crime of infantilizing all men, categorizing them as pornography under Medievalist Catholic Monarchical Law.’ Matt, did you know all cringe comes from the Marvel Cinematic Universe as the sole singularity for our cultural decline? I’m not even the biggest MCU fan, but Davis is still trying to make a whole personality of spiting me over those movies.”

“Yeah, some things never change. But onto things that do change, Hadron went from looking like a butch obese lesbian to a butch gym-bro lesbian, which I find funnier than anything else.”

“Gotta get fit for the Free Folk to make Canada great again. I still never thought I would see a merger between the Free Folk and Beartaria, but this year continues to be even weirder than the one before it. I think everyone knows what we’re gonna play at the end.”

“Oh, that is obvious, as obvious as the feds and other alphabet agencies Waco-ing this whole project once everyone is entrapped. I’m amazed Owen still has right-wing street cred after hiring a gay porn lawyer, but I guess hiring Laramie Hirsch to finish your own work with a referral from Davis has its benefits.”

“Being a Hollywood never-was still gives you tons of black budget cash. They should officially register all media as government assets with the security they’re given.”

BNN wasn’t ready for the true Canadian Kingdom, hence the need to elevate the Monarchy to Phase 2. “Push the button, Patrick!”


Every TV in Canada down to Idaho was smacked with the glorious monarchical image of a skull and crown, a sword pulled out from the ceiling with the blade pulled towards the screen.

“My subjects, I, your glorious King, shall perform a great act to prove my rulership over your dominion. Today, I will show you all the difference between killing and murder, for I will go back and personally KILL Martin Luther and save him from the liberal Protestantism behind Drag Queen Story Hour. He will go to Heaven instead of Hell and Protestantism will cease to exist.” I cast my skull away, picked up the plague mask from Laramie, and booted up the time portal.

“Before I begin, I would like to thank Owen Benjamin for these tesseracts to manipulate the time flow, as I go back in time to right before Luther became…the horny monk!” Electricity shot through the room and opened into a portal in the wall, and I walked into the gate to save the souls of all heretics once and for all.


“Very cool, totally not sus of Owen to literally provide Saturn tesseracts for this experiment.”

“Dear God, Matt, it looks like the whole screen just turned white from that blast!”

“The trinity….is God! ONE TWO THREE PI ONE TWO THREE PI!” Owen flushed the turps from his liver as the currents flowed through his system.

“Wow, at least it cured him of his cringe. Goddamn cunning of reason, I have to thank EMJ on that one.” Laramie noted as the masses of TV crowds watched with him to see a lone skull remaining from the voltage. Patrick saluted with his axe as an extension of his arm, carrying the skull to a royal burial ground in the King’s apartment porch for everyone to see preserved in glass.

“HE HAS AN HEIR!” bellowed Heather, carrying a positive test for all to see.

25 Years Later

I’ve been raised for this from childhood, with the only knowledge of my father being an archive of livestreams regarding his antics. That “Earth Warrior” song is a total earworm; I’m still humming it. So, the palace of Canada has been completed with a deluxe apartment room to match Aurini I’s throne room. I got the skull looking over me.

“Your majesty, the people await you.”

There was Patrick, leading the crowd as the royal usher. Within the hall were the graves of every martyr from the Free Folk party, padding the halls to remind of the solemnity of our struggle. Upon ascending to my throne, he gifted me a crown made of skulls.

“My loyal subjects, today we mark a new era in Canada. This morning is, was, simply known as Benjamin Riley, but as of now, I am your divinely ordained monarch, AURINI THE SECOND!”

The crowd took their swords to a watermelon each, slicing and reviewing them to each other in a magnanimous triumph when I heard, “BEN!”

I turned my head but I saw no one talking, only the skull in the glass.

“The heart, Ben! The heart! Does your heart know the true monarch’s calling, the difference between killing and murder?”