Tales of the Parodyverse

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AJA
Tue Jan 17, 2006 at 01:14:45 pm EST
Subject
Religious Encounters of the Herd Kind: an Arnie J. Armbruster adventure.
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"And so from the frosty remains that was at one time the magical paradise that went by the name it was called & that name was Mogodisue. The Mogodisuians were a happy people until that great & dreadful day when they said 'We have no want to fight anymore forever'. Which then they were promptly killed by great & dreadfull Spearites with their pelvis thrusting & grinding. After the last Mogodisuians was killed & feed to the slackerish K-Federation, the land became barren as barren as yo Mama didst after having yon surgery. So sayth the lord all minty, Amen."

This was the end part of last sunday's 3 hour sermon given to his roadside congregation by Reverend Tiki Tiki Master Bong, a homeless man from south Reno. Now don't ask me how the Reverend came to The City because I don't know (But, I think he left Reno because he shot a man just to watch him die). But, I'm glad he's here: the Reverend is about the the only Reverend that I think that has any sort of truth to him. Last Sunday's topic was the end of the world, like it was always!

Why I was there was to ask the Reverend about a case I was working. The background knowledge I had was up in Sassimolassy County that Cows were being altered. Altered for the better: They started to talk. The downside were that The Cows all shared these 3 traits:

1. They were under the impression God was a Cheeseburger who would blow it's nose & sneeze out the apocalypse upon the unworthy.
2. They sounded & acted like Paris Hilton.
& 3. Ate Tinfoil.

Now 1 & 3 were ok, nothing all that strange. The Reverend for told of this last year during his yearly Resurrection, Restitution & Reincarnation or Why I love Waffles sermon. But, the whole Paris Hilton as a Cow thing was slightly annoying. So, after the 50th time told I was hot and/or was asked where their fricking dog was: I left. That's why I came to the Reverend, I needed answers.

After the masses of homeless, druggies & other people of that kind have left, I went over to him to told the Reverend my problem. We went to his doublewide confessional coragated box & he asked: "Tell me, my twisted sister. What troubles your little mind on this most joyous of mornings?"

I told him about the Hilton Cows.

"Ah yes. I heard about it on the news today, oh boy. It came across the sky like so many pigs flying rarely do. It was truly magical. But, the answer you seek like so many college freshmen seek out a good ham sandwich is not here for you to have & behold with your naked eye. I saw the raindrops of my generation fall on the heads of the uncaring while I danced in the planes that take you to Spain like so many often do. The answer to life, the universe & everything else you seek about this mystery is in the basement of the Almo. Go out & search for the answer for it is there!"

"But, Reverend: The Almo has no basement."

"Ah. You are very smart. You figured out the riddle of the Shrinks even before you knew it to be the truth, oh Allison."

"Yes. Everyone knows the Almo doesn't have a basement."

"Did you check in the attic?"

"Yes & all that was there was Paul Rubens, a goat & Jimmy Hoffa's remains."

"Good. The worldwide weeblewalker is still doing the cha cha of the mind."

Our conversation to nowhere went on for another hour. Many people would not or could not talk that long to The Reverend but I'm slightly retarded & drunk most of the time so he makes sense to me. What I found out from The Reverend is that apparrently The Skree & The Skunks Empires have a bit of Mojo rising & major hard on for the Planet Earth. So, they made nice & decided to take it down together.

How? From the middle out! Which, of course started with Cows. It all goes back to Cows, according to The Reverend. He told me how to save the Cows from the massive intergalactic conspiracy & also how to make a nice cheese danish. So, to save the world, it's cows & the danishes: I had to win a Golden Globe. Which of course wasn't that hard seeing as I already had one: Take that Brokeback Mountain!

Now, according to The Reverend: I had take my Golden Globe & stick it up the Skree/Skunk's collective Who-Ha, rotate it counter clockwise, do a little dance, make a little dove out of the New York Times, get up on & get down tonight like an Apex Machine. This would of course do nothing to stop the conspiracy, but would give me time to think & it did. I knew how to stop the invasion of The Fanta's, The Skree's & The Skunk's. It was with the Cows.

I launched an all out Cows Flinging campaign at the invading Space Invaders. I took out the first couple rows but the top row was going to be hard. So, I unplugged the game which saved the world. The downside was I hadn't used all the Hilton Cows. So, Reverend Tiki Tiki Master Bong now has a new companion for his weekly sermons.

The End (or is it?)


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