The Book of Bloop: A Comic Sacred Tale

Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was the Blunder

In the beginning, there was The Blunder, and The Blunder was with Everything, and Everything was confused.

And lo, the Great Cosmic Oops — known only as Bloop — tripped over a nonexistent shoelace in the Void and accidentally created the Universe.

And Bloop saw what had been done and muttered,

“Ah, crumbs. Well, too late now.”

Chapter 2: The Seven Sort-of-Days

Bloop made the Universe in Seven Sort-of-Days, which may or may not have been literal or metaphorical or just naps.

On the First Day, Bloop made Light, but it kept flickering, so Bloop added a Clapper™.
On the Second, Skies — accidentally vacuum-sealed.
On the Third, Land and Sea, which promptly got mixed up and had to be re-labeled.
On the Fourth, Stars, tossed across the heavens like glitter by a sugar-high toddler god.
On the Fifth, Birds and Fish — some of which overlapped awkwardly (see: flying fish, penguins).
On the Sixth, Bloop created Beings in Their own image — mildly chaotic, slightly forgetful, with questionable dance moves.
On the Seventh Day, Bloop ordered takeout and called it Holy.

Chapter 3: The Fall of the First Beings

The first two Beings, Floob and Glarn, lived in the Garden of Mostly Okay. All was well until they discovered the Forbidden Button that said "DO NOT PUSH."

And Glarn said unto Floob,

“What if it's reverse psychology?”

And verily, the button was pressed.

A great honking noise echoed across the cosmos, and thus Shame entered the world — specifically, the awkward kind, like waving at someone who wasn’t waving at you.

Chapter 4: The Great Deluge of Inconvenience

The Beings multiplied and became numerous and mostly annoying.

So Bloop said,

“They’re not bad, per se… just terribly indecisive.”

Thus came the Great Deluge of Inconvenience, in which it rained mildly for 40 days and everything just got soggy. One Being, Zorp, built a giant floating brunch café called the ArkenDiner, where pairs of animals were seated by reservation only.

After the flood receded, Bloop sent a double rainbow as a reminder:

“Next time, just use your words.”

Chapter 5: The Prophets of Mildly Useful Advice

Bloop chose a line of Prophets, all of whom were unqualified:

Gary of the Dustbins, who foretold the recycling revolution.
Mira the Mumbler, whose prophecies were accurate but mostly unintelligible.
Kevin the Slightly Damp, who wore socks with sandals and spoke truths through interpretive dance.

They brought wisdom like:

“Do unto others unless you’re in a rush — then apologize profusely.”
“Blessed are the confused, for they shall invent things by accident.”

Chapter 6: The Coming of The One (Sort Of)

In the Time of Bureaucratic Despair, Bloop incarnated as a humble janitor named Jeff, who walked the land preaching Common Sense, Mirth, and Unsolicited Hugs.

Jeff turned water into tea, multiplied burritos, and healed the cranky with dad jokes.

And Jeff spake unto the people:

“The Kingdom of Bloop is within you… likely behind your appendix.”

He was arrested for illegal street comedy and sentenced to three days of light community service, after which he rose again — with snacks.

Chapter 7: The Final Maybe

The world grew ever more complicated — smart devices got smarter, people got louder, and no one could agree on lunch.

And Bloop returned, not with fire, but with a cosmic suggestion box.

Every Being was asked the sacred question:

“What do you think this is all about?”

And lo, the answers were wildly inconsistent.

So Bloop said,

“That’ll do.”

Then They turned off gravity for five minutes, just for laughs.

Final Words: The Gospel of Huh?

Blessed are those who laugh at the Divine Joke,
For they shall inherit flexible expectations.

Sacred is the question,
Holy is the shrug,
And eternal is the dance of Bloop.

Amen-ha-ha.

Chapter 8: The Holy Whoops and the Dimensional Jump

And it came to pass in the Year of the Wobble that the fabric of reality snagged on a cosmic coat hook, and Time began to hiccup.

The Beings of the world were minding their usual chaos when the sky folded like laundry, and a great shimmering rift appeared above the Town of Mostly Fine.

And from this rift descended a swirling, sparkling, faintly gassy portal, labeled:

“ INTERDIMENSIONAL DOORWAY – ENTER AT YOUR OWN WHIM ”

The people gathered and said,

“Shall we… poke it?”
And one said,
“We never not poke things.”
And thus, they poked.

The First Jump

With a pop and a burp, three brave-ish souls leapt (or tripped) through:

Floob (of Forbidden Button fame),
Mira the Mumbler, and
Gary of the Dustbins.

They arrived in a land of Upside-Down Logic, where:

Birds walked and lawyers sang,
Rain fell upward in philosophical debates,
And every sentence ended in a footnote[^1].

[^1]: Even the footnotes had footnotes.

There they met a glowing entity made entirely of soup called Brothos, who proclaimed:

“You must find the Sacred Spork of Equilibrium — only then shall Bloop restore the Narrative Thread!”

The Sacred Spork Quest

The Spork was hidden in the Temple of Interminable Riddles, guarded by the eternal beast Whatzit, who asked:

“What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and gets very confused at brunch?”

Floob guessed:

“A centaur with scheduling issues?”

Whatzit wept with joy. “Close enough,” it said, and vanished in a puff of misplaced logic.

The trio retrieved the Spork, glittering with potential and vaguely humming in C minor.

Return and Reboot

They returned through the portal (which now smelled faintly of cheese), clutching the Spork. The moment it touched the Earth, time unraveled, reversed, did a somersault, and then politely reassembled itself.

Bloop appeared in the sky, reclining on a celestial beanbag, saying:

“Well done. That was not what I planned… but neither was the platypus.”

Then Bloop rewound history just far enough to fix the sky’s wrinkle but left the memory intact — because sacred tales are better with a few odd chapters.

Epilogue: The Gospel of Quantum Silliness

And so it was said:

“Blessed are the Spork-Bearers,
For they shall feed both soup and noodles.”

“Cursed are the Know-It-Alls,
For the multiverse is allergic to certainty.”

And the people told the story of the Dimensional Jump for generations, never quite agreeing on the details, but always agreeing on this:

It was absolutely bananas.
And also maybe… divine?

Amen-ish.

Chapter 9: The Holy Heist of Temporal Proportions

The Setup

The Universe, for all its majesty, had a tiny problem: Bloop’s Divine Schedule Scroll™ — the blueprint of all time — had been misplaced. Specifically, it was locked in The Vault of Never, located in the center of the Clockwerk Cathedral, a building that ticks forward, backward, and sideways depending on Bloop’s mood.

Without the Schedule, days looped, prophets repeated themselves, and Mondays happened twice.

So Bloop summoned the ancient, questionably-qualified Order of Anachro-Prophets™, a band of time-displaced weirdos known only by their divine call signs:

Chronos "Kevin" the Slightly Damp – master of interpretive time jumps.
Mira the Mumbler – oracle of vague premonitions.
Jibberiah the Loud – bard of distraction and certified kazooist.
Sister Zip of Later – expert in “postponed miracles.”
Doc Scribb – the only one who could read Bloop’s handwriting.

Their mission:
Infiltrate the Vault of Never. Retrieve the Divine Schedule. Don’t get caught by the Seraphim Bureau of Temporal Continuity. (S.B.T.C.)

Phase One: The Distraction

Jibberiah the Loud arrived at the gates of Clockwerk Cathedral and began playing “Freebird” on celestial kazoo. This confused the angelic guards, who immediately broke into a spontaneous interpretive dance, allowing Mira to mumble her way through the side entrance unnoticed.

She whispered,

“The vault is guarded by paradox... or maybe a cat.”

Phase Two: The Time Bungle

Kevin, damp as ever, somersaulted through a portable wormhole (a glorified time-looped laundry basket), landing in the Cathedral's past, present, and future simultaneously. He bumped into himself and high-fived himself, forming an infinite Kevin loop.

Meanwhile, Sister Zip arrived exactly 12 minutes late, which was perfect timing, because that’s when the guards were briefly erased by a calendar glitch.

Phase Three: The Vault Breach

Inside the Vault of Never — a shimmering cube of absolute chronology — Doc Scribb used the Sacred Pen of Correction to write a loophole in reality:

“In the event of an unscheduled heist, all locks must temporarily forget they are locks.”

The Vault sighed and opened.

Inside? The Divine Schedule, bound in jelly, humming with destiny.

Doc Scribb wiped his glasses.

“This says we’re supposed to fail.”

Everyone paused.

Kevin said,

“Well, technically we are failing. But with style.”

So they took the Schedule, but left a decoy copy made of fruit leather and good intentions.

The Escape

The Seraphim Bureau detected the temporal anomaly and gave chase, their wings flapping like bureaucratic file cabinets.

Sister Zip opened a time-suitcase and yelled,

“INCOMING FLASHBACK!”

The whole team disappeared into a cloud of nostalgic memories, vanishing into a childhood picnic involving invisible lemonade.

Epilogue: The Paradox, Resolved (Sort Of)

Back at Bloop HQ (which exists in all centuries at once), Bloop chuckled:

“They stole what I meant to give. That counts as faith.”

The Divine Schedule was reinstalled. Mondays returned to their rightful place. Prophets stopped saying, “Wait… didn’t I already say that?”

And the Anachro-Prophets became legends. Or myths. Or possibly an upcoming musical.

And so it is written:

Blessed are the time-travelers who read the instructions upside down,
For they shall rewrite history with crayons and resolve causality through interpretive dance.

Amen to that.