The Shacks, as
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The Shacks, as
they were known
around Toledo, stepped
forward and bowed
to the assembled
, ill-assorted multitude.
"But, but, but
we have enough
obscure celebrities popping
out of nowhere,"
riposted Ayn Rand,
who had popped
out of nowhere.
"Damnit, I thought
I was a
rational sex queen
and not a
mere obscure celebrity
. The narrator has
completely lost any
credibility by now
, because of all
the inane contradictions
and flat-out
idiocy that's been
in evidence since
this bizarre story
began almost one
year ago. Nonetheless,
he carries on
and I'm really
waiting for Sarahfeena
to inject some
much-needed coherency
into her abandoned
, yet still-thriving
, brainchild that is
unreeling before our
very eyes." The
moment this was
said, lightning struck
the dirigible's prow,
causing a blinding
flash of actinic
light to arc
over the heads
of Satan and
his pals--AKA
Zuul, OCS, and
Rube, who looked
rather shocked to
realize that Satan
was Sarahfeena! This
startling revelation caused
reality itself to
warp, causing Rand
to do a
complete reversal of
her position on
collectivism. "Hallelujah! Praise
the People United!"
This was understandably
the cause of
horror throughout the
Republican National Convention
. The Paul family
, thus instantaneously freed
from rational self-interest,
promptly began shouting
, "Take our money!
We are all
mere parts of
a glorious machine!
And what's more,"
the former Libertarians
gushed, "We're going
to advocate raising
the drinking age
to 45, and
reinstituting the Draft!"
Completely aghast, the
Republican party declared
themselves officially in
league with the
Symbionese Liberation Army.
"I didn't know
that the SLA
was even a
current group," Satan
muttered doubtfully, but
the GOP was
not to be
dissuaded from their
lurch into sheer
criminal madness. Meanwhile,
watching this craziness
were the minions
of Lord Santorum,
and they rubbed
their eyes in
their namesake froth,
while dancing in
paroxysms of ineffable
delight.
Satan scowled.
This was not
how the plot
was meant to
unfold, but the
devil was adaptable,
and had already
figured out how
to turn the
recent string of
bizarre plot twists
to his advantage.
"I'll quote Scripture
until their feeble
mortal brains are
so utterly confused
that they're forced
to recognize me
as their new
ideological best friend.
Heh, heh, heh."
"But wait!" said
Marion Barber, suddenly
back in action.
"The reset button
is right here!"
"If we push
it often enough,
we'll get back
to something that
resembles a coherent
narrative!" enthused Sam
, packing a bowl
with Purple Haze
and lighting up.
"Hey, don't bogart
it, young hobbit,
", interjected Odo, who
seemed to be
feeling pretty good
all of a
sudden, thanks to
the power of
long-delayed narrative coherence.
"So, let's see
what we have
so far," mused
the narrator, in
a resigned manner.
"We started with
five stranded castaways
, so how did
we end up
looking at all
these gods, hobbits,
television characters, entertainment
figures, and whatever
other bizarre tangents
we've embarked upon?"
A timid hand
waved aloft, patiently
waiting for the
crowd to notice
. "What is it?"
asked the crowd
irritably, as the
timid little hand
stopped, then dropped.
"I was hoping,"
said Charlie Brown,
"that we might
wrap this up
sometime this century."
Dean stuffed bacon
into his boxers
and smiled beatifically.
"That...didn't help,"
said Charlie, inching
away from the
blissful bacon stuffer.
As if in
a dream, the
bacon-craving zombie
shambled towards him.
A shot rang
out, overloudly, in
cosmopolitan Blawnox, Pennsylvania.
Which, oddly enough
, was within earshot
of Sipowicz, who
, predictably, freaked out.
"Break out the
Hennessy, bitches!" bellowed
Sipowicz, as he
eyed Mr. Baconpants
with a glare.
Dean, eyes narrowed