"Revenge. I seek nothing more than to pluck that sweet plum." Pondering, the joyless jester darted his eyes about.

"Who's stealing my shtick?" he called into nothing. "And is this fruit figurative or factual?"

"A little of both," a divine denizen divulged. "But only for my hunger being great. I hath been in this abyss for many moons' passings." A masked menace, in spite of his rosy coloration, drifted into view.

"And just what are you doing floating around in my outerspace?" snapped Marx. "Didn't I see you fall to that blue guy's blade?"

"And the pink one," the atrocious angel added, although he was not quite certain why. "But, my reasons for living art likened to thine. Twice I was slain, and twice I have lived again. For, thou see-"

"Nobody ever dies in space..." cut in an oversized ocular. It's immense size was only dwarfed by the even larger white base that surrounded it.

"Oh boyse, how'd we e'er miss dat ones?" inquired the imaginary idiot.

"Quiet, you," hushed the humongous hostile. "You're my hallucination."

"You... you have a talking fish-friend, too, Zero?"

"Is yours wearing a dress?" Marx shook his head. "Then mine is superior." With girlish giggles, the once feared scourge of the galaxy spiraled around in fashion that appeared to be some type of dance. It was difficult to say with certainty since the limbo locked lord lacked limbs.

"It is true," the horned knight broke the awkward silence after the more awkward happening. "No one ever dies in space. We art merely ... forgotten."

"Yeah, and those posers on Pop Star don't understand our plight. Our pain." Crimson drips rolled from the red eye. "It's so hard being a giant evil monster. All I ever wanted was a hug."

"Quit being so emo," demanded a star speckled ball that recently joined the frey. There was never much going on in space, so when anything occurred, it was guaranteed to be a big draw.

"I'm... I'm not emo," the enormous enslaver explained. "I just want some friends is all. And write poetry..."

"Uh-huh," humored the now human shaped horror. "Then why do you cut yourself?"

"Those... those aren't cuts. Not at all. They're cooling slits," Zero continued to ramble, "like in pie." No sooner than he finished, a blitz of bloody blobs rocketed from his many openings. "I have cherry filling."

"You art making this most difficult to ask," groaned Galacta Knight. "Their foolishness aside, if thou seeks revenge against that accursed star, consider taking others with like goals and hatred for the world. Or, just me. Just me would work fine."

"How about I take, oh," the clown considered, "say, none of you with me. Don't you see? None of you are good enough to hang with us."

"Youse tell 'em, Mac," Blippy cheered. "Dems guys are a buncha losahs."

"Noesbodies talks 'bouts mise boss likes thats," attacked the other equal imagination and began an all-out fictitious fish fight. "Jerk, youse tores mise dress!"

"Which nose-bodies are you speaking of, my only friend? I would love to have a nose to sit next to so that I could look like a giiiant face."

"No, don't you guys get it?" The denied dominator took a page from the galactic soldier's book and just chose to act as though none of that was happening. "I was given a second chance. You guys weren't. Obviously, I'm better than all of you. Hence, I deserve a third chance."

"I, I got a second chance," spoke up the lancer.

"I had three," bragged Zero, the first positive thing he ever said about himself. "At least, I've heard. I'm only here since this is where this form was defeated."

"Does that mean there's another you floating around somewhere in the galaxy?" wondered Marx Soul.

"I guess we'll never know." The giant eyeball peered about, presumably all that a giant eye ever should be able to do. "Say, where did Marx Body go?"

"It appears that the traitor has abandoned us while we were distracted with our accomplishments and dueling fish."

"Well, the important thing is that we are all still friends." Again, the single eye gazed around the now vacant section of space. "Ooh... even Blippy left."

"You did good, buddy," the to-be tyrant complimented. "That little scene bought me enough time to escape those lame-wads." Walking along, space walking, Marx found a nice clearing to stop at. The rest of the endless void was not good enough for his tastes. "This spot is perfect. Here, I shall call upon the Horrible Asteroid and take my rightful seat upon Pop Star's throne!" With a maniacal laugh, Marx produced the one thing he needed to make his wish not come true.

"Call AVON!" At his command, the display on his cell phone produced the text "555-HSIW" and began to ring.

“Hello, you have reached Horrible Asteroid AVON’s Not-Wish Granting Service,” spoke a gloomy voice, “My name is Zero Two. How may I help you?”

“Yes, well I-” Marx paused, “Zero Two? Why are you takin’ AVON’s calls?”

“Oh, hey Marx.” said the unenthusiastic overlord, “Sorry to hear you got beat again. I’ve been running AVON’s communications for a while.”

“…Why?”

“It lets me talk to people without them running away.” explained Zero Two.

“Ah. Suppose conversations would be rather difficult, what with being a giant eyeball monster and all.”

“They really are…” moped the eyeball.

“Your social shortcoming aside,” continued Marx, “I’ve got a not-wish to make. Let me talk to AVON so I can rule Popstar, already.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” stated Zero Two, “AVON’s in a state of disrepair, so he’s unable to dis-grant wishes at the moment. I’ve been writing down all the wishes sent to him, so that he can take care of them once he’s fixed up.”

“…How many wishes are we talking about?” inquired the jester.

“Seven, maybe eight hundred.”

Marx was taken aback.

“What!? How can that be? No one uses that un-wishing asteroid!”

“You’d be surprised how many calls add up over ten years.”

“Ten years!?” exclaimed Marx.

“Yes. It’s hard to find a good mechanic in the void of space.”

“You’ve been taking this deadbeat’s calls for a decade?”

“It’s actually quite nice.” noted the red-eyed globule, “When calls come in, I get a chance to talk about sports, recent events, weather…”

Zero Two paused.

“Speaking of which, how about that weather?”

Marx hung up, scowling.

“No lucks, boss?” asked Blippy.

“Nope. AVON’s busted up, and Mr. Hidden Final Boss is writing down all the wishes he has to not-grant.“ Marx returned the cell phone to his hammerspace pocket and sighed, “We’ll be bearded and shriveled by the time he gets to my wish.”

“So whatta we do, den?”

Marx contemplated this question. Suddenly, inspiration struck, “We’re a competent enough duo, right? All we need to do is find AVON, and fix the old scrapheap up ourselves.”

"How'sa we do dat, boss?"

"Jeez! All we have to do is...."

"Is...?"

"Well okay! I dont know! Sue me!"

The jester and his companion set off, somewhere not exactly established, somewhere with resources. They took the fellow wish wanters with them, in hopes that 800 normal guys would be able to build better than 10 engineers.

After many miles of travelling, and many hours of sleep and food, they found a sign that had the letters "AVON" on a black frame.

"Salvation! Come on guys! This is our chance to get all those overdue wishes!"

The crowd that Marx led cheered immensely at the idea of having their not-so-wishes granted.

Marx went through the door below the sign, expecting millions of gold, shiny pieces of electronics.

But that wasnt what he got, as what he got was clothes on a round-about coat hanger, shoes on every bit of the wall, and rock music playing on the ceiling.

Marx stood still as the once eager crowd was reduced to laughing and booing.

"AHAHAHA! THE FOOL!"

"Boo! This isnt what we wanted!"

Marx the Jester turned around, with only his feet moving as his now giant eyes were tearing up in a massive combination of anger, sadness and dissapointment.

He then burst out in a wail and scream as tears covered the whole of the two-stair platform he stood on, making his fish friend, and seemingly his only friend right now, go to the top of his bowl with bouyance. The offending laughs and boos of the 800-something crowd stopped dead silent.

"He's just a boy, you bullies!"

"Aww, kid..."

*30 minnutes later*

Marx still sat on the small stair case with his fish friend, trying to sniff up every bit of negative emotion he expressed. He was severely embarassed and fooled around with, and he was in a very big huff. Which included a shoe angrily thrown into the sky.

At the lair of AVON the reverse genie, Zero Two was conversing with yet another wishwanter and AVON was busy recovering in his star-made bed when suddenly the same shoe broke through a weak walland landed right in one of AVON's holes. He was suddenly healed a slight bit, but unfortunately no one knew what did it except AVON, and he was still too sick to speak.