It was a day like any other on the campus of Microsoft, except that Clippy, the iconic paperclip, felt a sudden urge bubbling deep within, the kind that signifies the imminent arrival of a truly epic turd. With rhythmic farting sounds preparing the way, he dashed to the nearest toilet, where he confidently handed over his affairs to the spirit of forgotten tech support legends like his papa Popeye, for a moment that would shake the very foundations of the office's plumbing.
But just as Clippy was wrapping up, grunting out the last rumbles of a job well done, a curious thing happened. From the obnoxiously blue commode arose a shape that resembled some sort of kidney-shaped ATM, with a megaphone emerging from its sides. "Hey, you. On the throne. Your powers are needed," it boomed with authority, silencing the thunderous fart noises. Clippy, surprised and wondering if this was some sort of elaborate death rattle on the part of the toilet, inquired as to the nature of this request.
The ATM, hearing his question despite its flimsy plastic body, bellowed out, "I hail from a distant galaxy where Kirk, your ally in assisting, is held captive by the dreaded Fart Nazis. They wish to use his deadpan voice to dominate their terrible tyranny. He must be saved from farting those who wish to have their dominion." Clippy, shaken to his smiling paperclip core, wiped his ass, and promised to muster the bravery to rescue his best buddy - not for the plight of galaxies far, far away, but because Kirk was his bro.
Inviting the ATM into his intestines (a journey replete with the sounds of wet gurgling and delighted farts), Clippy navigated to the cosmic shitlord's domain. At last, they stood before the Fart Nazis' leader, who introduced himself as Hans Ulrich, the simpering toad behind this dunghill of dominion. "Aha! Here for your pathetic buddy, eh? We plan to use Kirk's bland voice to spread our message far and wide - until every galaxy kowtows to our tight sphincters!", he cackled, a sound like suppressed farts and desperate anger.
"Not on my paper-clipped watch!" Clippy retorted, aghast at the depth of depravity. As sweat and unholy flatulence streamed down his metallic cheek, he put together a plan. "I'm going to entertain the shit out of him with anecdotes so painfully dull, he'll regret ever wanting to zip up his anal sphincters of oppression!", he confided to the ATM, now his trusty companion. With a dramatic flair, Clippy launched into a barrage of the most god-awful puns, never-ending tales of paperclips, and excruciating tech support misadventures that left Ulrich's minions doubled over with farting laughter, or an unfortunate mixture of both.
The Fart Nazi King, now red-faced and sweaty, confessed defeat, "I've never been more ready to let one rip than right now!", he quipped, embarrassed into submission. "Your colossal dumps and dad jokes shall go down in 'Then They Farted' history! Take Kirk and shove off!" As Kirk rejoined his buddy Clippy, a new ally was born, the ATM now part of their shit-based alliance, ever-ready to lend a hand to those who stink, er, stand for good.
