By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter
This was going to be a good news story, Fauxhasset. Achey Cedars Way was finally going to be paved this week, after three decades of potholes and patchwork.
Instead, when contractors went to pulverize the existing roadway, they found something disturbing underneath: more strange symbols, painted in a familiar gleaming red that experts still have failed to confirm is not blood.
Like the symbols found at the 8 Lame Jane’s condos and on Fame Island, these depicted an eight-pointed compass rose and an astrological diagram, joined by an acute angle. But they also indicated something far more sinister than either of the previous two findings: not only is there some sort of weird occult conspiracy going on in Fauxhasset, but there has been for more than 30 years.
Neighbors panicked. Three families up and left without even packing their belongings. Others once again booked an extended stay at the Mad Elephant Hotel. And owner Ord Girdlehyde, philanthropist that he is, once again took them in free of charge.
Town Manager Mown Tanager did his best to calm everybody.
“In a way, it’s kind of comforting,” said Tanager. “This has been here for thirty years, maybe even longer, and nobody even knew about it. Same with the one at Lame Jane’s. I won’t deny they look bad, but if they were going to summon demons or something, don’t you think they would’ve done it by now?”
“IT SWALLOWED MY BROTHER,” bellowed Dooey Lembas, a student at Princess Elsa’s School for Turning Superheroes into Snowflakes, whose younger brother Shorty fell into a pothole while playing in the street last December and never came out.
Tanager looked conflicted, but Dooey’s parents pulled her into the Escalade with her seven remaining brothers and drove off before the Town Manager could respond.
The Paroder reached out to paranormal consultant Buster DeGost, who has followed some of the strange goings-on in Fauxhasset since Shorty disappeared last winter.
“You said this angle points west?” DeGost said. Frantic scribbling could be heard on the other end of the line. “It’s a triangle. Achey Cedars, 8 Lame Jane, and Fame Island – they’re all exactly a mile apart. They form a perfect triangle. And all the other paranormal activity is happening inside it.”
It’s true: the black hole in the harbor, the Hallowed Burrow that coughed up Fauxsutawney Fil instead of our beloved groundhog this Feb. 2, the space-time rift that has been muddling the duration of public meetings at the Temple (and briefly unleashed a time-raptor at the Semiannual Spring Séance) – all of these events were clustered neatly within the triangular framework DeGost supplied by email.
What does it all mean?
“Hell if I know,” said DeGost, “but I’ll look into it.”