Fauxhasset Paroder, 69th Edition: Womp, Womp

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

It’s a Christmas miracle! The Womp has, in a rare moment of mercy, returned the Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) to the ranks of his fellow Fauxhassians.

Of course, in true Womp fashion, that’s not all that Radiation State Park has given our town today. The LAW emerged from the heart of the forest riding on a velociraptor. Fleeing before the pair in terror were hundreds of tiny deer the size of field mice, each with a tiny, Rudolph-red nose.

The effect was that of a bearded man astride a dinosaur floating epically into town on a phosphorescent red sea. One can hardly blame Father Mumblehill and his apostles for mistaking them for the second coming of Christ.

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Easy mistake to make. Photo credit

The faction was out in force at the entrance to the Womp, with perfume and buckets of sudsy water with which they planned to wash the Lord’s feet, as well as an electrical massage chair for the Savior to recline in while receiving his full pedicure.

Fortunately, the world did not end, and Fauxhasset now has an animal whisperer again – as well as a valued member of the community back from the dead (admit it; you all assumed he was dead).

“We are thankful the Lord has seen fit to let us live another day,” said Father Mumblehill. “Although admittedly, I’m rather disappointed. I was hoping he would sign my Bible. Ah, well. The apocalypse will catch up to us all soon enough.”

The velociraptor is being kept at Captain America’s School for the Awesome, displacing students to the adjacent, rival lower elementary school, Princess Elsa’s School for Turning Superheroes Into Snowflakes.

The LAW promised that the accommodations would be temporary, but said that the velociraptor needed ample space and the ice castle at Princess Elsa’s would not have been a suitable environment for the dinosaur’s composition, which is accustomed to the warmer climate of prehistoric Earth.

Students were not happy about the arrangements but agreed to put up with the situation temporarily.

“The boys are all saying how terrible it is that they have to live in our beautiful ice palace and sing ‘Let It Go’ every morning,” said Princess Elsa’s spokeschild Dooey Lembas. “But we girls see it as an opportunity. Santa is watching extra close this time of year, so we’re all going to be on our best behavior.”

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Fauxhasset Paroder, 68th Edition: Black Hole Friday, Cyborg Monday

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

In a day that shall henceforth be known as “Black Hole Friday,” the transfer station and boutique – which relocated to the vortex in the harbor last spring – had the biggest holiday blowout you’ve ever seen. And we do mean “blowout.”

On Friday, the vortex inexplicably and without warning changed direction and began spewing out all of the junk that people have been throwing into it since April, along with some unidentified space stuff including a small piece of glowing rock, a broken light saber, and a massive, inside-out paramecium that is actually quite cuddly.

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How do you like THAT Christmas tree? Photo Credit

Police asked that parents please stop taking their children to throw letters to Santa into the void. The void, they said, is not taking requests. You get what you get, said the police, and you don’t get upset. Furthermore, the area is dangerous to the public due to the flying debris.

The vortex continued vomiting our detritus back into the harbor for three days straight. Then, on the fourth morning, the robots came: a day which shall henceforth be known as Cyborg Monday.

First there was just one robot, and readers, it was kind of cute. It had a very humanoid structure and pleasing arrangement of features so that one instantly felt it could be trusted. Most of its exterior was sleek and white, not unlike the products by our own trusted Apple Inc. – therefore adding to the illusion.

It was only when there were four hundred of them that people began to wonder whether they should be concerned. But by then, it was too late. It was much too late.

The four hundred held the harbor against the combined police forces of Fauxhasset, Proxituate, Kingham, and Borewell, and meanwhile, more cyborgs kept emerging from the vortex until their ranks numbered in the thousands.

Once here, the robots simply stood there, not allowing anyone through to the vortex. They did not try to march on the town. No one, human or cyborg, was harmed at any time, except for those who tried to approach the black hole. The robots would not even allow cleanup crews near enough to remove the trash.

The influx continued until the clocks ticked over to midnight, marking the end of our fine town’s very first Cyborg Monday. But the robots did not disappear when the holiday ended. They are still standing there, perfectly still, eyes gently pulsing blue as they stare and stare. And stare. And stare.

Town Manager Mown Tanager said he plans to negotiate with the robots just as soon as his wife finishes baking the five hundred casseroles he plans to present as a peace offering. Until then, no one is to approach the black hole. Letters to Santa can be delivered to the police department for forwarding.

Fauxhasset Paroder, 67th Edition: Thankfulness Level Over 9,000 This Year

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Another year, another Turkey Day. This Thanksgiving, our fine town released more than 9,000 turkeys over the harbor. 9,000, Fauxhasset! That’s 9,000 living creatures saved from dinner tables, sent forth into the wild where they can fly free another year.

The sound of their thanks was deafening. The very air seemed to ululate with all the gobbling, and it rained loose feathers upon the Thanksgivers gathered as the birds made their ungainly but inspirational ascent and flapped off into the sunset.

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For years, the media has sworn that turkeys can’t fly. Science (and the iPhone Ω alternate reality camera) have now empirically shown that this is fake news. Photo credit

 

Of course, as we all know, the Turkey Day ritual isn’t just about the turkeys – it’s about the things each and every one of us is thankful for, which we whisper into the turkeys’ ears before setting them free.

Fortunately for the Paroder, a few Thanksgivers were kind enough to share those thanks out loud with the paper. Without further ado, here’s what Fauxhasset is thankful for in 2017.

Two Men And Their Dog And Their Faceless Baby: We are just over the moon about the latest addition to our family – our little Lumin, light of our world, adopted from a fellow Fauxhasset resident who was unable to care for them. We’ve been waiting a long time to become parents, and we’re loving every minute of it.

Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, Part-Time Jedi, Part-Time Pirate, Part-Time Wandering Minstrel, Etc.: I’m thankful for gainful employment. 26 times over.

Unidentified 64-year-old woman: I’m thankful for this mysterious, backwards-ticking watch I got from Ms. Blackstone at the Fenclave. It’s making me age backwards! Not only do I look great, but by the time my foot-dragging children get around to giving me some grandbabies, I’ll be fit enough to play with them! Now this is between you, me and the turkey, understand? I don’t want my children finding out. Be sure you don’t print my name with this!

Students of the Fenclave (formerly Fauxhasset Middle-High School): We’re thankful for our handsome, peaceful, loyal President Jimmy Garoppolo who would never, ever, ever leave us for another team – like, say, the 49ers. That would just never happen, and we are so, so #thankful.

Father Mumblehill (Flaxen Mary Abbey): We praise the Lord every hour the world doesn’t end. We know that someone in this town is working to bring this about, but it will not happen until the Lord’s time, which is not known to us. Therefore, every moment the Earth continues to spin, every moment we draw breath, every moment the dead remain dead and not an army of undead marching upon us to hasten the end – we praise the Lord. Yet when the end comes, we shall praise Him then, as well!

Mecca Mile residents: Strict wetland bylaws.

Ord Girdlehyde (Mad Elephant Hotel, Castle Girdlehausen): Loopholes.

Reporter Thamanda Crompson: I’m thankful for all the cute cats that keep appearing outside the Paroder office. Ever since they rebuilt the old Abraham Building that’s kitty corner to ours, the cats just keep spawning – about two or three a week. One has even moved into the office, which is great for morale and for sitting on my hands while I try to type to keep my fingers warm. So sweet. He says his name is Snowfire and I think I’m in love.

Citizen whose name could not be released due to ongoing legal action: Thank you, man who provided the old, red brick I was looking for in the community classifieds last month. I know you are probably wondering what you’ve wrought, with me in prison now and all, but I have just two words for you, my friend: Worth. It.