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.
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.