Fauxhasset Paroder, 50th Edition: Screaming into the Void

After months of people screaming into the void, the void has reportedly started screaming back.

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It never ends, and just like your SnapChat photos, your screams never truly disappear. Photo credit

The black hole in the harbor has made a fitting receptacle for the public’s existential despair since it opened in late February. For four months, residents have been screaming their grievances into the singularity, never to be heard by anyone on Earth… or so they thought.

But now the black hole is regurgitating their cries, and not everyone likes what it’s saying.

“…GREG’s always on my case…”

“…JELAMENA-8…”

“…still haven’t made any friends, and Jimmy doesn’t…”

“…proposing to Monica today…”

“REPENT!”

“…Shorty? Shorty, are you…”

“…got to move on Achey Cedars…”

And those are just the confessions. The vortex has also been coughing up tweets, which are well known for their propensity to slip into the void.

 

“The statements I made to the black hole were made in confidence,” said one resident, who wished to remain anonymous. “This is a violation of confidentiality laws.”

Local attorney David Osiris said that the black hole couldn’t possibly be violating confidentiality laws. No one was paying it for these alleged “therapy sessions,” and therefore there was no physician-patient privilege to uphold.

“People don’t even know if these so-called ‘therapy sessions’ were mutually consensual,” said Osiris. “Maybe the void didn’t want their screams. If anyone has a case here, I’d say it’s the black hole.”

When the anonymous plaintiff heard this, they amended, “Well, at the very least it’s a violation of trust and extremely unfair.”

Oh honey. Welcome to the universe.

Fauxhasset Paroder, 49th Edition: For the love of God, we are begging you to pahk the cah

The Fauxhasset Police Department would like to remind residents that parking on sidewalks in the Village area isn’t classy.

What is this, a trailer park? You can’t just leave your vehicles wherever you want. Parking on sidewalks is a thing that lazy people do, and you’re not lazy, are you? And even if you were, you wouldn’t want your neighbors to know that, would you? No. So put your car in the parking lot where it belongs, or send it home with the valet.

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If you liked it then you shoulda put some bling on it. Wait, that’s not right… Photo Credit

Furthermore, with the solstice behind us, it is now officially summer, so don’t even think about sending your kids to the beach with the au pair if you haven’t bought her a parking pass. No pass, no car. If you liked it then you shoulda put a sticker on it.

As for the employees whose names we won’t name (but we know who you are), please leave public parking spaces open for the public. The satellite parking lot is at your complete disposal since we had Santa’s spaceship towed.

Please give your full and immediate attention to this matter, or the Capital Budget Committee will be forced to spend your tax dollars on a solution, and you won’t like it when they do.

This has been your official legal warning. Further offenses will result in remedial action.

Signed,

The Fauxhasset Police

Fauxhasset Paroder, 48th Edition: Space Center Fundraiser Skyrockets to Success

by Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

The Futuristical Society is over the moon about the $40 million it just raised to convert the historic Peachhood Church into a space center. The society held a silent auction on June 9 with the goal of raising a modest $400,000 – barely enough to buy the church, let alone convert it.

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The world may never know. Photo credit

But when Ord Girdlehyde, owner of Pacifica, the Mad Elephant Hotel, and Ye Olde Pepper Mill, got into a bidding war with Ben Bentley, the richest man in town, over whose name the future space center would bear, the numbers just kept getting higher.

Bentley ultimately won. He is, after all, worth over $1 billion, while Girdlehyde spent all his money buying the harbor estate that includes his hotel and two restaurants. Ben Bentley could forget $40 million in his back pocket and run it through the wash accidentally.

The space center will be called the “Benjamin Buckminster Bentley III Center for Space Observation and Exploration.”

A young couple that just moved to town won the space center wedding package. Orion Vanta and Monica Moniker will be the first couple married in the space center when it is completed – which could still be a few years, even though the Futuristical Society now has all the funding it needs to do the job.

The couple wasn’t in a hurry.

“This gives us plenty of time to plan,” said Moniker. “We can have planet centerpieces and little LED place cards at every setting…”

The interview ended as Moniker got lost in a Pinterest board. Vanta was too spaced out to comment.

Dooey Lembas, a second-grader at Princess Elsa’s School for Turning Superheroes into Snowflakes, won a starter telescope but did not take the prize home with her.

Lembas told the Paroder that she had been trying to win the asteroid belt cruise, but the auctioneer had removed her entries because she was under 18. The telescope had been his idea of a consolation prize.

“Stinking useless!” Lembas said. “I wanted the cruise so I could go look for my brother in space. What good is a telescope? Even if I see him, I won’t be able to bring him back with a stupid telescope!”

Shorty Lembas, a kindergarten student at Captain America’s School for the Awesome, was eaten by a pothole last November, and Lembas has been on a crusade to find and/or avenge him ever since.

The luxury cruise around the asteroid belt went to Zohn Donne, former owner and would-be developer of Fame Island. Having failed to build his organic, fame-themed amusement park in Fauxhasset, Donne said the cruise would be an opportunity for him and his family to assess other possible sites for the park.

Town Glutton Nom Chompsky adopted Lembas’s rejected telescope, determined that the instrument would show him whether the moon was, indeed, made of cheese, as Mooncheddar Coffee has led him to believe.

Assembly of Chosen Chair-Chosen Mevin Kirk went home with a tiny glass vial on a chain, which contained a chip of ledge from “the other Fauxhasset” located in an adjacent reality.

Finally, your reporter somehow won a trip back in time to witness her own birth. Seriously, she doesn’t know how that happened. Her salary is [redacted]. She had $2.07 in her pocket and wrote it on the auction card on a whim.

Turns out that the idea of watching one’s own birth was too weird for anyone else to even bother. So, perhaps the time has finally come for Thamanda Crompson to find out where she came from. Because as far as she can tell, her life began in medias res sometime late last October.

Wish me luck, Fauxhasset.