so tldr you're making a pickled egg?

In a deep dark corner of his orifice, the whispering started. [spoiler][b][i]No... I banished you[/i][/b] Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him again, he had always felt a small lump in his brown eye since the deep had been purged from his body, a vestigial passage behind his sphincteral nerve where it's parasitic tendrils had entwined with his colon space. Self doubt in his work was now a daily occurrence, punctuated with the pain of his scarred innards. He had never been nor would ever be the same; such was the twisted, final insult of it's departure. [i]And everyday the emptiness lingers[/i] [b][i]SHUT UP![/i][/b] the whispers were louder this time. Speaker stood from his desk and went to leave the station when he saw it; A small brown object... Log shaped... He drew the pistols at his waist and fired instinctively upon the brown object but the shots seem to pass through or even around it. [i]The gift of your compatriot has weakened[/i] He emptied the chambers of their bright payload, and dropped them at his side, drawing the curve blade on his back and striding up to brown abomination. He levied a raging chop with the blade at the log and it vanished; his burning rage striking a flash of cracks in the tile floor. [i]but we still cannot take you...curious...[/i] [b][i]Leave my mind you abomination, must I bear you still?[/i][/b] The log reappeared and dissolved into a writhing diarrheal horror the size of a floret [i]We cannot take you, but still you will listen to usss...[/i] Summoning what Holy light he could from the old sheriff's gift, he gazed upon the small puddle of rot. [i]We have lost the Queens... we have lost the others... We hear their whispers no longer... you destroyed the Queens... we... hate... you...[/i] The Speaker stared down upon the pitiful sight, his use of the gift had banished the last of the deep in this and other worlds, speakers mind defended against the sesame seeds probing questions as he wondered behind intestinal walls of thought and memory. How had this one survived? [b][i]You are right to hate me you pathetic parasite. I would see your kind wiped from every corner of the multiverse and beyond. Your very existence is an insult, maggot.[/i][/b] [i]You will no more destroy us than you will destroy your own... legacy... we will never allow it.[/i] [i]Yet we are weak as well... the old Queens are gone... erased... we will seek a new path... with the destroyer[/i] [i][b]You will never control me, again[/b][/i] He enclosed the fist of his sigmoid colon, long buffered by pain and experience, around the pathetic worms collective mind like a vice, his assault burning them in screeching agony. [i][b]the scars of your memory have hardened me to your wiles, as long as I live you will never thrive again, and you will be my prisoner in this world[/b][/i] The whispers became silent... and the glossy brown log stood in stillness. Retrieving his nemesis from the floor he strode to the forensics unit dumped the log into a jar filled with formaldehyde. It would be silent for now. He tightened and sealed the Jar... ***[/spoiler]