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Those steps are your sins Nermal, all 7,048,576 of 'em.
You think that is long? Wait until you've seen Monday’s."
Nermal has accepted the challenge to climb his stairway into Heaven.
Each step marks a sin that he'd committed in his past life (for example working with the CIA on project ARTICHOKE). The bigger the sin, the bigger the step.
If he climbs the entire thing, he'll face judgement based on his efforts.
Unfortunately, Nermal made a plenty of sins, about 7,048,376 of them, and the stairs will turn into a slide after every Monday.
But none of it deters Nermal.
He brought the Glock with him.
Even if it does take an eternity to master the flight of stairs, he would be the Kitten to kill God.
The stairs have yet to turn into a slide at Mondays end, and those larger steps that were his grave sins were no match for his thirst to shoot and kill God.
After only 6 days, 23 hours and 35 minutes, Nermal has ascended most of the 7,048,576 steps to Heaven.
But to his shock, Garflied was up there waiting for him.
"How can this be!?" yelled Nermal,
"You are a fat lazy cat, how did you get up here so fast!?" With a calm demeanor, Garfiemd answered
"You've come a long way for your purpose, my child."
But next week let's get serious and land a foot on every single step so you don't look like a furry grey cheater."
Then Nermal got his face kicked and fell to the bottom.
After many failures, Nermal finally made it to Heaven again at the top of his sinful steps.
And this time he remembered to push Gorfled down those stairs before going in to complete his primary mission.
As Nermal concentrated on where God might be, he noticed a growing glow all around him. His teeth began vibrating as it reached a blinding crescendo, forcing him to shut his eyes tightly as he waited for his nemesis to appear. His head felt to be in the grip of a closing vice. In a terrified frenzy his words jumbled and somehow cried out "Show me GOD!"
Instantly the buzzing and glowing stopped.
Nermal began to see himself in a puddle at his feet.
It stared him in the face. He had usurped God.
He was for a brief moment handed down ultimate power in the moment of Garfielt's tumbling collapse,
and was in control of every aspect of the cosmos.
The sun and moon, good and evil, and all the things sacred were in his hands to maintain alone.
But he didn’t care because that was never part of the plan.
Nermal intended to shoot God. And by God, he will.
"God? Where you at you pale-ass ♥♥♥♥♥?
I'm here for you, and I've got nothing to lose other than this gun I stole before I died!"
Nermal didn't get a response.
"I know you're hiding, I get it! Garfied kart wasn’t supposed to be invented!"
Nermal looked around for a few minutes before he realized God isn't here.
At this point he wondered if God was that fat cat he just shoved down the stairs.
But in any case, he kept his guard up.
God punishes Nermal by flinging him out of the gates of heaven. Doomed to fall down the infinite stairway while shattering evey bone in his body till the end of time.
How long has it been. Years? No. Not years, not decades, not centuries. No time. There was no time. He was still thinking like a mortal, Nermal knew. The day he left earth was the last day he was a part of. The moment before he entered the portal was the last time he was a part of this world. Time is gone. All of eternity stretches forward forever. A single second, a million years. It's all the same now. The neon flashes of multicolored radiation that spilled forth from the distortion in deep space, the bright white of the world when he first left his mother's womb. It had all melted together into a singular moment, a never ending eternity. Time was gone. On his quest to seek the unknown, Nermal had become immortal. Nermal had died. He saw the birth of the universe, and he saw the heat death. And he could not tell the difference.
Nermal was selected in 1951 by CIA Director Walter Bedell Smith to oversee the agency's new interrogation program, Project ARTICHOKE. The aim of the project being the testing of drugs on human subjects to determine if these drugs could lead an individual to involuntarily perform an act of attempted assassination. Nermal was chosen in part due to his experience as an interrogation officer during the war, as well as the CIA's desire to collaborate with the Armed Forces for the project. Nermal also believed human experimentation to be of extreme value and scientific importance and he stated that, "It is imperative that the CIA move forward more aggressively on identifying and securing a reliable, ready group, or groups, of human research subjects for ongoing Artichoke experimentation." That resulted in Project MK Ultra following the latter project's launch on April 13, 1953. Whereas previous ARTICHOKE experiments had primarily been conducted abroad, nermal initiated a new series of experiments to be tested within the borders of the United States. Nermal also proposed the establishment of fake left-wing organizations run by the CIA to intercept "undesirable aliens" to be used as subjects for MKUltra, and approved of a plan to recruit over 4,000 military personnel serving court-martial sentences in federal prisons to be used as test subjects for the project.
This is the (in the previous post of mine) mentioned CIA work he has done.
That might actually stop Garf from eating it yes handed over by nermal is a no go bro
I hate nermal so much and now there is a nermal sympathizer in this very discussion page claiming he will eat all my lasadge and sleep in my bed and i hate him so much wanna know why? Its because he thinks everythings a game..
His grin, a boundless crescent, and eyes, like oceans endless, beckon forth a mirthful dance within my soul. In his gaze, I glimpse a world where all is grave, as he transforms life into his feline whimsy, leaving us mere puppets on his cosmic stage. A humble yarn in his grand expedition through this cosmic farce. Yet beneath that genuine smile, a shrouded intention lingers, as if he harbors secrets unfathomable, knowledge unbounded, a cure for all maladies, and the keys to eternity, all concealed behind those frigid sidelong glances.
His penetrating stare accuses, a primal dread seizes my being, a primal fear that not even God Himself could induce. It's as though he plots my fate, biding time until his designs unfurl. He jests at the world's expense, like a child at play in Disneyland, where every moment is entertainment, and we, the jesters in his whimsical circus, caper to the rhythm of his invisible drum. Yet, despite his vast wisdom, all he does is gaze, upon me, upon us, casting forth one immutable sensation: that life is but a game.
The world, his playground; the cosmos, his sandbox; and we, the players in his theater of delight. He perceives it all as a game
The spirits of the garf will rise as the vermin nermal will writhe in agony.
May the garf take the world MAY THE GARF TAKE THE WORLD!
You nermal dogs feed on weakness, through strength we’ll starve you out.
Behold as your wretched era dies, with souls of gods behind your feral eyes.
BEAR THE WEIGHT OF OUR NEW PARADIGM! AND RAISE THE PAINED GARFERS ABOVE THE PARALISED NERMAL SYMPATHIZERS!
ONCE ITS PURGED OF ALL THE NERMAL PARASITES THE WORLD WILL BECOME THE GARFS PARADISE!
Each violent treason is an answer to nermal.
Those who crave freedom must shatter nermals chains, we who’ve been beaten by Nermal will least feel the pain.