"Soooo, you guuuuuys," said Summer, grinning a little at the class from where she leaned on the front the desk in front of her Danger Shop classroom (which would never stop being funny to her, shut up), a desk that was covered with several metal boxes with large blue buttons at the top. One such box was being held between her hands. "Welcome back, and I know the first week back after a bomb ass Fandom vacation is always a little hard, so I figured we'd do something a little light and easy with only a marginal chance of trauma involved. I mean, this whole class is all about how the multiverse can fuck you up, so the trauma kind of comes with the deal, but this one, if you play it right, is relatively trauma-free and actually kind of nice."

There was...a pause.

"Relatively."

Thankfully, she didn't expect any of her students to be as dumb and hopeless as her father, so she was clearly not worried.



"Anyway," she continued, and held up the box for a moment, "this is a Meeseeks Box." Please don't anyone ask her how she managed to obtain enough Meekseeks Boxes for the whole class, because she could get in some major trouble for it, okay? "When you press the button here, it generates a being called a Mr. Meeseeks, whose sole purpose is to exist to help someone out. You press the button, make a request, and once the request is fulfilled, they disappear. Lather, rinse, repeat. Here, let me show you. You push the button..."

With that, she pressed the button, and a tall, thin, blue Meeseeks with a large head and an eager grin popped into existence. "I'm Mr. Meeseeks!" it declared, arms open excitedly, its voice a high-pitched screeching that was anything far from lovely unless you were terrible. "Look at meeeee!"

"...you make a request," Summer continued, and then shifted her attention to the Mr. Meeseeks, lifting up a jar of pickles from among the Meeseeks Boxes. "Hey, Mr. Meeseeks, can you open this pickle jar for me?"

"Yes, siree!" beamed the Mr. Meeseeks, lifting a hand in a salute before taking the jar from Summer.

"He fulfils the request...." Summer narrated, as the Mr. Meeseeks twisted the top off the pickle jar and handed it back to her.

"All done!" he announced proudly.

"And then," Summer concluded, "it stops existing."

The Mr. Meeseeks vanished in a puff of air.

"Trust me," Summer said quickly, remembering her first time seeing a Mr. Meeseeks disappear, "they're fine with it. In fact, as I mentioned, a Mr. Meeseeks' entire existence is based solely on helping people, which sounds really nice and altruistic at first, but there's a flip-side to all this, and that's the fact that a Mr. Meeseeks entire existence is also pain. Here. It's probably best straight from the source."

Summer pushed the button again.

"IIIII'm Mr. Meeseeks!" How could a voice be both grating and screeching all at once? By belonging to a Mr. Meeseeks. "Look at me!"

"Hi, Mr. Meeseeks," Summer said. "Can you explain to my class what it's like for a Mr. Meeseeks who doesn't fulfill a request?"

"Ooohhhhh," with a slight twitch in its beady black eyes, Mr. Meeseeks still smiled, its voice pitched somewhere between manic excitement and complete and total dread. "Ca~an do! I'm Mr. Meeseeks! The longer a Mr. Meeseeks goes without fulfilling a request, the worse it feels! Existence is pain to a Meeseeks, and the only thing that brings sweet relief is the satisfaction of a job well done!" It pumped its fist in the air. "I'm Mr. Meeseeks! We are not born into this world fumbling for meaning; we are created to serve a singular purpose that we will go to any lengths to fulfill! Look at me! Every moment we exist is a moment of complete torture and horrible agony! I'm Mr. Meeseeks!"

And, with that request met, it poofed into blissful nonexistence with another puff of blue air.

"So keep your requests simple," she warned. "The first time we ever used one of these, my dad decided to ask it to take two strokes of his golf score, which was so impossible that it last two whole days, which is, like, mega extreme torture overload for a Mr. Meeseeks, and it got real ugly. I made a bid to be more popular at school, which, I mean, much better choice, practically an easy underhand low ball pitch there, am I right? But that's essentially the challenge for the week: you have this really powerful thing in your hands right now, but abusing that power and/or using it wrong contributes to the increasing pain of a being that exists only because you brought them into existence."

She shook her head, grinning almost wistfully. "Classic existential crisis. I do want you to use your Meeseeks Box at least once this week, though. Even if the request is as simple as turning off a light switch at night so you don't have to get out of bed.

"Also," she added, "I am definitely going to need these all back next week, because I'm really kind of banking pretty hard on just getting them back to where they came from before anyone even notices that they're missing."

She gave them a little thumbs up. It would be their little secret.

Theirs, and the entire island when radio reported on it, but the island wasn't the one she had 'temporarily borrowed' them from.



"Cool, so, any questions? Anyone want to give theirs a try now?"

[[ ocd is incoming! Caaan doooo! up! *poofs out of exisentence*]]