Fauxhasset Paroder, 94th Edition: Rabble-Housers

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Construction teams have completed the re-re-development of the Affordable Luxury Homes at 8 Lame Jane’s. Residents started moving in on Sunday. Thus was averted the 788th apocalypse detailed in the late Father Mumblehill’s “Book of Apocalypses.”

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100% not cursed or your money back* | Photo credit

“To be clear, it is in no way certain that this property has been purged of all lingering curses,” said Ezekiel Henderson, an apostle of Mumblehill’s who is carrying on the good Father’s work to prevent a total of 792 potential apocalypses before they happen.

“But,” said Henderson, “that’s the rabble’s problem now. We’ve got 787 other apocalypses to deal with.”

Compared to the destruction of life, the universe, and everything, what’s a flickering light here, a cold spot there, a demonic apparition every Tuesday at 9:00 p.m.? Small price to pay. Every home has its quirks, after all. [Disclosure: Your reporter was approved for a unit at the 8 Lame Jane development.]

According to Henderson, the unique properties of the homes at 8 Lame Jane’s should be the least of everyone’s concerns.

Consider, said the apostle, the sky that was recently torn down over the harbor; the trees that have been missing since January; the eternal summertime; the Christmas that refuses to end, sliding its digital claws into our bank accounts and Apple Pays day after day; the thousands of cats swarming the town; and the fact that the glitter spilled during construction at Castle Girdlehausen still hasn’t worked its way out of the local water cycle.

“These are all apocalypses waiting to happen,” Henderson said. “With God’s help, the other apostles and I are doing our best to stop them, but it may be His Will to smite Fauxhasset. He’s certainly come up with enough creative ways to do it. Brothers and sisters in the Lord, pray! Fast! The Cataclysm may be upon us.”

When asked for comment, the Panic Brigade urged residents to pray if they want, fast if they must, but please – please! – leave the panicking to the professionals.

Instead, between hyperventilated gasps for air, officials recommended visiting the local Gnaws or Cop & GOP to stock up on shelf-stable goods for your family bunkers. Families that do not have apocalypse bunkers should contact the Panic Brigade at once for an Armageddon Survival Starter Kit.

* No refunds will be issued to the deceased, so do try to stay on the demonic apparition’s good side. 

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Fauxhasset Paroder, 93rd Edition: Big-Ass Bottom-Feeders And The Self-Chosen Frozen

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

The Oldpocalypse is now officially old news. Since Father Timeraptor’s brief visit on July 4, everyone has been restored to their proper ages, and that’s reason enough to pop off the corks on some thousand-year-old Atlantean champagne – which is exactly what everyone in town spent the weekend doing.

As if people weren’t elated enough, the coveted antique bubbly had the effect of raising them a few inches off the ground for a moment after each toast. The only damper on the evening was that those who had passed on during the Oldpocalypse, such as Father Mumblehill, were not returned to the land of the living – but, there is a time for mourning, and this weekend was not it.

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The exquisite plating of this colossal crustacean was done by celebrity chef Girl Fieri. | Photo credit

In celebration, the man-eating lobster moat around the Waffle House has been emptied, its contents cooked and devoured. The colossal crustaceans were caught and subdued by a volunteer band of aliens. Apparently the humongous Homarus, known for their man-eating tendencies, never acquired a taste for intergalactic meat, rendering the big-ass bottom-feeders relatively docile during the hunt.

As supersized shellfish screamed on massive grills across the Common, Town Manager Mown Tanager confessed that the Assembly of Chosen had been saving the over-large lobsters for the town’s 2,500th anniversary celebration next summer, but this week’s occasion seemed fitting.

Plus, he’s hoping the feast might butter folks up for the tax hike he’s about to propose to fund the $20 million replacement of the Temple – but that’s off the record, he said.

During the festivities, Two Men were reunited with their Faceless Baby, who spent months on the run with an unidentified 59-year-old woman in possession of a powerful anti-aging wristwatch. The timepiece had rendered the woman just 12 years old during the Oldpocalypse, making it a highly coveted item in town and driving the woman into hiding in the Womp.

The pair traipsed into the Village halfway through the party, covered in sticks and mud. The woman said the watch was now broken and wandered off to a dimly-lit corner to mourn. The Faceless Baby said, “wub wub wub.” Two Men were unable to determine whether she was repeating sounds she’d heard in the Womp, or simply trying to imitate the cops DJing the event with their cruiser sirens.

At that moment, those who had cryogenically frozen themselves at the Self-Storage facility were brought out to the Common and ceremonially thawed. These included Ben Bentley, the richest man in town; Jimmy Garoppolo, president of the Fenclave; the retired captain of popular bagel destination Salt Water Dough Rings; and Fauxhasset’s most famous (or infamous) canine, Two Men’s Dog.

All 42 of the self-chosen frozen were welcomed back with cheering, champagne, and succulent man-eating lobster – well, all except for local hotelier Ord Girdlehyde, whose cryo-chamber “didn’t fit in the truck,” according to Self-Storage employees.

“Just leave him there,” suggested more than one resident. “Maybe now we can get a proper restaurant on the harbor that’s actually open to the public occasionally.”

 

Fauxhasset Paroder, 92nd Edition: Summer Rewind

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Around 9:00 on Tuesday night, police were inundated with noise complaints from residents around the harbor, all claiming the same impossible circumstance: That they were experiencing the disruptive sounds of a fireworks show, without any of the concurrent bursts of light and color.

The Fourth of July fireworks display was not scheduled until the following evening, leading residents and police to believe that people were illegally setting off their own commercial-grade fireworks. However, police were unable to determine the source of the noise. After half an hour, it stopped on its own.

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Kevin Spaceraptor was finally reunited with his parents. | Photo credit

It wasn’t until 8:00 on Wednesday night that the explanation became clear. As thousands of elderly residents hobbled, shuffled, and minced down to the docks for the formally sanctioned fireworks show, they were surprised to see bursts of light already illuminating the sky an hour before the show was scheduled to begin.

Witnesses reported that there were two unusual things about the fireworks (aside from their earliness). First, they were utterly silent. Second, instead of exploding across the heavens, the bursts seemed rather to be imploding. Sparks were fading into sight from every corner of the sky and converging to a single point before descending to the offshore barge where a very confused team of pyro-technicians was trying to prepare for a show that had apparently already happened.

Then the strangest thing of all happened. The very sky began to peel back from the horizon and fold in upon itself, revealing the backdrop of blackest space freckled with infinite stars.

Three figures were seen ascending into the crumpling twilight. The Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) identified them as his own service velociraptor, the young Kevin Spaceraptor, and, most likely, the elusive Father Timeraptor.

In the total darkness that ensued, it took everyone a moment to realize that they weren’t old anymore. Then, as their now-youthful eyes adjusted to the starlight, the people of Fauxhasset saw that their bodies had been restored to their rightful ages with the timeraptor’s departure.

The only person sad about any of it was the LAW.

“I am, of course, glad that our plan worked and that we were able to set everyone’s ages right, as well as reuniting Kevin with his parents,” said the LAW. “Hopefully this means no more weird time blips in town for the foreseeable future. But I would’ve liked to meet Father Timeraptor before he ascended. And I’m really going to miss that service velociraptor.”

Luckily for the LAW, there are still thousands of cats awaiting adoption, which young Kevin let into town through a small, carelessly-opened space rift near the Paroder office. Surely one of those would make a perfectly good service animal – and at the very least, when you take them for a walk, they’re much easier to clean up after than a dinosaur.