“Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind.” “I am convinced that He (God) does not play dice.” -Albert Einstein- Oh well. At least life is so good in this country we have the time to dedicate political discourse and web page design to the idea of whether or not people should be allowed to TALK about God.
-tomtsunami
Soo…dokta martin was really Bozo the clown all along! I knew there was something “funny” about him.
I turned to face the remains fo my foes, expecting a fight to the finish, what I was meet with instead was something ‘completely different’ as the now vanquished Bozo might have put it. My friends and make-shift army were now figthing back confused and visibly shaken clowns. And to my relife and delight, the once zoombiefied libraians(although weak and bewildered) were once more back to their pirm and prissy selves, Bozo’s power over them had been broken!They were sitting up,straightening hairs,pushing up glasses and picking lintballs from tweed skirts and blazers and we had the clowns on the run. As I went towards one of my bookish buddies, to see if I could be of some help in getting her to her feet, I was suddenly confronted by a mini blockade of hissing and defiant midget clowns. “What the hell? Are your brains stunned or what ? Look around, ya little circus stumps, IT’S OVER! Now move outta my way before I boot ya in your tenny-tiny testicals.” I tried to move forward again,but one of the little bastards grabbed my lame leg and bit it. HE BIT IT!! Like a *@# $&@^ @#^&%#* DOG !!!!! “OOoowwww, you dirty little bugger.” I began hopping around, spinning in a circle,shaking my leg violently, anything to get the ruddy gnasher off! Finally I managed to fling him into an old hotdog cart. He got back up,choking a dried up, petrified old weiner out of his mouth, and jumpped down from the cart to make a speedy retreat. I followed his path with my gaze as I rubbed my wounded ankle,and reilized that big clowns and small alike were filling their little cars at top speed,and that wasn’t all,-They were taking the libraians with them! The big clowns had them, thrown over a shoulder, or two clowns carring one like a rolled up rug, or just dragging them kicking and screaming by their sensible shoes. It was terrible! But why weren’t the others helping them? It wasn’t long till I saw why. The dogs and monkeys in tutus had been let off their leashes and were holding them at bay while their crule masters made off with our friends. I tried to break through the fur clad guard, only to be rebuked by an angry, chattering monkey, poised to chuck a palm full of poopies at me if I dared another steep, the french poodles growled their agreement. I was forced to stand by and watch this dreadful retreat, powerless to save my friends. As the clowns finished getting in, the animals began backing up and then jummped into the cars, and the doors were slammed shut. We made a rush for them but they were remarkably fast for such dinky little beaters,(why the hell did we walk all the way out here anyway?) and we could only watch,listening to the fadding cries for help, cussing in vain as they drove away, and squinting as the bright new dawn broke on the horizion….perhaps a sign, a sign of hope…..from a Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Is that the last chapter? What about the librarians?
surely there is more??!!!
I would like to do more, but maybe I should ask Bobby about it first. It kind of takes up a lot of room, and I’m not really sure if he would be mad about me including a chacter that is more or less his property.
And in conclusion, the moral of this story is: Some authors are more fucked-up than others.
RAmen
I don’t think Bobby would mind, but if he does you could put it on one of those forums. Rescue the librarians!
Anna, maybe someday they’ll make a video game out of it.