This story, here and now, will be a story of great adventure, thrill, and terror. One cannot even begin to imagin. It's also a story of friendship, and of finding your way in this crazy, noodly world. I can only hope that each of you will enjoy the proceedings. Oh, By the way, you can call me Farfalle Flynn.
YOU DON'T KNOW about me unless you've ever taken a gander at a book called The Adventures of Messaluna Farfalle. But that's neither here nor there. That book was penned by ol' Treecosys, and He told the truth, give or take a few drunken nights, and the Friday holidays. There were many exaggerations, but he mainly hit put the meatball on the pasta. But that's no matter either. I've never met anyone whose lied at one time or another, without it it was Mammaw Molly, or that Parrot, or Macaroni. Mammaw Molly, Messaluna's Memmaw Molly that is, and Pappaw Mosey are written about in that book, As I recall is mostly a true book, with random and blagerant exaggerations as i recall, and as I said before.
Now the way that that there book..er...pamplet comes into play is, Messaluna and I found some Pasta the Flying Spagetti Monster done left in Marsala Cave over yonder and it made us quite full. We got 6,000 pounds a piece, and over the course of say...10 months, bein' that each of our families are about 10-11 members, we finished it all up, it was all golden and delicious just as the Flyin' Spagettdiety intended. It was an awful sight o' pasta when it was all piled up with sauce. Well, Ol' Judge Platter, He took it on up and put it on his dinner table as well, and it fetched no reverence from he and his because he didn't believe in saying "Arrgh" before meals, but It sure was good, and it fetched us a great surplus of food in the town-- more than anyone could tell what to do with. Ol' Pappaw Mosey, He took me for his grandchild and she would civilize me, and take me away from my rougher, more pasta-friendly life. But I'll tell ya, it was sure rough livin' in that there house all the time, considerin' how a Pastafarian could not even see anything remotely resembling Him out any of those dismal windows he had. So when I couldn't take it any longer, I lit out. I got into my old clothes and boots, and was free! But Messaluna he hunted me up and said he was going to start a chain of high-class pasta resturants if I should go back to Papaw and be respectful. So that's just what i did.
Papaw he cried over me, and called me a poor stale noodle, he called me alot of other names but didn't mean no hurt by them. He bought me some new clothes again, and I couldn't do a thing but sweat and sweat and feel horribly cramped. Well, then the old man commenced again. Papaw rung the bell for supper and you had to come on time. When you sat down, you couldn't start eating right away, you had to wait for her to tuck down her head and do one of them Chris-Tin prayers, and the food was all cooked by itself. I actually prefer things cooked with each other, cause the juices and sauces come together and things go better.
(More to Come)