Where I come from, the famous starlet Emma Stone is larger. I have risked everything to travel to your dimension to share this important news.
1. I am quite weak from my grueling trans-dimensional journey. I saved my protein rations for two years so that I could bribe the portal sentry and bring to you these images of the fat Emma Stone. It has left me gravely malnourished, but it was all worth it so that you may gaze upon a hefty Emma Stone.
2. When the Seers learn that I have defected from the homeland, my family will be arrested and sentenced to seven lifetimes of labor in the palladium mines. But this sacrifice was necessary to bring you this photo of fat Emma Stone at the premiere of The Amazing Spider-Man 2. I pray my son and two daughters will forgive me.
3. I first tried to bring you these photos years ago, but I was caught stealing the optic reams from the Data Nexus and was publicly tortured with a heat blade. Yet as soon as my lacerations blistered over, I began plotting once again. I understood how vital it was for humans beyond my dimension to see these images.
4. Months after the torture, the District Inspector saw me uploading this image of fat Emma Stone and muscular Jonah Hill from Superbad onto a sensor prism and threatened to turn me in. I agreed to become his sex slave in exchange for his silence.
5. Here is a photograph of fat Emma Stone with the sacred Veruvian Wind Scepter. To us, it is an unspeakably meaningful image, and it is my hope that you will also be changed by its profound beauty.
6. To obtain this photo of fat Emma Stone, I had to trade every memory I had of my father to a time smuggler. I cherished those memories more than anything. I am told that my father was a great man.
7. In your world, Emma Stone is praised for being skinny. Where I come from, she has packed on the pounds. So you can see why it was so urgent for me to come here, endangering the lives of those I love so that you could have this knowledge. I have suffered greatly, but I would endure these trials a thousand times more if that is what it required to show you our celebrity who is larger than yours.
8. It was a brutal and terrifying trek to bring these images of fat Emma Stone to your dimension. I fled my district on the most frigid night of our cruelest month, knowing that the patrolmen would be skimping on their rounds to seek shelter from the lethal cold. I did not tell my family I was leaving. Following the crude, hand-drawn map I’d traded my daughter’s dowry to purchase from a blind mystic, I swiftly navigated out of the residential quadrant and through the embargo zone without issue, and then I scaled the tall, barbed barracks wall. The razor wire shredded the flesh of my hands and arms, but I felt no pain—the frostbite had already taken.
Once I cleared the wall, I faced a merciless 400-kilometer expedition through the Outer Woodlands. I had to crawl on my hands and knees to avoid detection by the border drones, which, had they spotted me, would’ve instantly killed me with a hail of fatal darts. Ever since the Palladium Wars ended in an uneasy truce 30 years back, the drones have been programmed to fire upon anything with a heat signature. Moving further into the gnarled landscape, I fought off wolves and vultures and feral Outliers. I drank my own urine to stave off the thirst. When my satchel became too heavy to continue, I left behind the three sensor prisms containing pictures of my family. I knew I would never be able to look upon my wife or children’s faces again, but it had to be done; I had to make whatever sacrifices were necessary to ensure that fat Emma Stone was seen by worlds beyond my own.
In the Outer Woodlands, it is always night. Without the sun, I quickly lost track of time. How many weeks passed? Or months? It could’ve been a lifetime. It was a constant, unyielding nightmare from which I couldn’t wake—dragging myself across the brittle, icy dirt, feeling my fingernails peel back as I clawed forward inch by inch. Blood pooled in my lungs; my frail breath tasted of sulfur. Slick, black rot grew over my foot and made me delirious. I sawed the appendage off with a house key, tore a tourniquet from my only shirt, and continued onward for days and days more. Then, long after all of my teeth had fallen out from malnutrition, I came to a vast clearing. In the middle of the clearing was the portal. I had finally arrived. I would bribe the sentry and then be on my way to your dimension, images of fat Emma Stone safely on my person. I got up off my hands and knees and staggered toward the portal, buoyed by hope.
Then, an explosion. An eruption of white-hot light and gnarled iron, screaming upward through the dusty soil like a meteoroid in reverse, blasting my emaciated body 30 meters skyward. I awoke hours later, naked, my clothes scorched from my body. An eye dangled free of its socket. Two ribs pierced through my skin like jagged tusks. Ants and fire beetles feasted on my open wounds. I’d stepped on a gateway landmine. The blind mystic hadn’t warned me.
I frantically opened my satchel to see if the sensor prisms holding the fat Emma Stone pictures were still intact. By some miracle, they were. The gods must have known what was at stake and granted me good fortune. I battled through the pain and returned to my feet, and then began staggering toward the portal once again. Another landmine blew me up. I struggled my way back onto my feet and continued moving toward the portal, but yet another landmine blew me up. This happened eight more times. But, in the end, I made it through the portal, an excruciatingly hellish journey both mentally and physically. And now, I have arrived in your dimension. And together we may rejoice, for the photos of fat Emma Stone are here.
I shall now return to my dimension.