Fauxhasset Paroder, 55th Edition: Punxsutawney Punk’d, Part 7

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

[Read the Punxsutawney Punk’d saga from the beginning]

[Catch up on the latest installment]

Fauxsutawney Fil is finally gone, and his prisoners – your reporter and Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, Part-Time Jedi, Part-Time Pirate, Part-Time Wandering Minstrel – freed.

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Fauxsutawney Fil with two of the deacons of his church, the Temple of RALPH – caught on flip phone camera by Orion Vanta. Photo credit

The Punxsutawney Phil impostor, claiming to be the reincarnation of the original groundhog RALPH, had set up a church of sorts within a dimensional rift at the heart of the Womp, which is now known to be the source of the strange womping sounds that can be heard in and around the state park at night.

Within the rift, woodland creatures became capable of human speech and were using their gift of tongues to sing praises to the omnipotent raccoon. But now the Temple of RALPH has fallen, and the false god sent back from whence he came (or at least to go be someone else’s problem for a while).

Your reporter and the full-time part-timer spent six days in Fil’s prison, eating scraps of food brought to us by the Womp’s friendly pig-bear and its cub. We feared that my last article had not reached the outside world and despaired of ever being saved.

But this morning, a rescue party came. Our heroes included Police Chief Stephen Quill, Two Men (looking for Their Dog), Fauxhasset newcomers Monica Moniker and Orion Vanta, ϨΔиϮα, Dooey Lembas, the Panic Brigade, and my colleague, Crime Correspondent Sobby Raint-John.

This motley crew charged into the moonlit clearing. Yes, it was moonlit in the morning. It was always moonlit, even when the sun was out. I shudder just to remember the cold, colorless light, the high, discordant keening of the stars, and always, the womp-womp-womp coming from we knew not where.

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The moon is not right in this place. Photo credit

The rescue squad fought their way through RALPH’s worshippers, each brandishing an indestructible porcupine that police had apparently confiscated from the Clandestine Auto Regulators (CAR) earlier in the week. The congregation scattered, and Fil fled down a scurry hole at the sight of the porcupines.

For their part, the porcupines gave a metallic gleam and a mechanical roar and pursued him, their quills spinning like tiny mammalian buzz saws. None emerged from the Accursed Burrow, though it took some time for the rescue squad to work out the strange locking mechanism of our prison.

Police and the Panic Brigade were unable to locate the LAW, who had been carried away by RALPH’s followers our first night in the rift, but Two Men were successfully reunited with Their Dog, who claimed he had been coaxed into the rift by the smell of frying bacon.

The Town is now working with Radiation State Park officials and paranormal consultants to determine how the rift may be closed or neutralized. The Womp will be closed to the public until further notice.

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Fauxhasset Paroder, 54th Edition: Punxsutawney Punk’d, Part 6

by Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

[Read the Punxsutawney Punk’d saga from the beginning]

[Refresh your memory on the latest episode]

Things have been quiet in the Womp. Too quiet. Even the pig-bear and her cub haven’t been seen in a while. We at the Paroder were starting to get suspicious, so we assembled an investigative team to go and, well, investigate.

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Repent and worship. Photo credit

Your reporter was joined by the Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) and Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, Part-Time Jedi, Part-Time Pirate, and Part-Time Wandering Minstrel, who has been trying to redeem himself since the pirate flag incident.

LAW led the search, veering off the beaten path to follow some sign or scent invisible to us. But it wasn’t long before everyone could hear it: the telltale heart, the drum-like beat, the thrumming womp-womp-womp that had earned the state park its name.

The trees grew close, blocking out the sun. Progress grew slow and labored. Just as we thought we would be forced to turn back – a fact we signaled to one another with sign language, since the womping had grown so loud – we broke through into a moonlit clearing. This despite having started our journey at around 10:00 in the morning. We certainly had not walked for 12 hours. And yet, it was night.

And it was loud. Not just with womping, but with animal sounds. The clearing was full of them, cheeping and chirping and barking and hissing and flapping. At the center rose a tower that was surely tall enough to be seen for miles, though no one in the outside world seemed to have noticed it. It was built from concrete scraps with bits of graffiti on the sides. And at the top, sitting in a scrap metal throne…

“Fil,” growled the LAW, charging forward, gun drawn.

Fauxsutawney Fil is an armed and dangerous raccoon who emerged from the Hallowed Burrow on Groundhog Day, claiming to be the reincarnation of the original Roman groundhog RALPH (Romulus Augustus Legolas Petrificus-totalus Hedghogius).

When the community refused to believe him and repent, Fil had vanished into the Womp, leaving the town to clean up his mess – namely, the Mile-High Snow of 2017, not to mention the still-missing Mr. Phil (later found trapped in a cave on Fame Island).

The LAW has been looking for the impostor ever since. But today was not to be his day. The animal sounds quickly turned unfriendly as the LAW barreled through the crowd, and he didn’t get far before they’d arrested him altogether. He was tied up with snakes and carried away by wolves. If he made a sound, it was only to whisper futilely, for the animal whisperer had finally met his match.

“My friends!” boomed Fil. “So good to see you. I take it you’ve come to repent.”

“Hells nah,” said Branch.

The next thing we knew, those unfriendly animal sounds were all around us, and we were borne away by the crowd. Readers, things look grim for us. I write this on my dying cell phone from Fil’s concrete prison. I don’t know if I can even post from here. Honestly, I’m not even sure this is the same universe I woke up in, and I can’t afford the inter-dimensional data plan.

If you’re able to read this, then please, notify the authorities. The police, the Panic Brigade, the Regional Animal Whisperer – whoever you can find. Both of us are (for the moment) alive and unharmed. The pig-bear snuck us a bag of potato chips and a crumbled Pop-Tart, so at least we won’t starve. But we don’t know Fil’s plans, and he seems like the unhinged type, so the sooner you send help, the better.

Fauxhasset Paroder, 53rd Edition: When good guys go bad

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Police believe they have a lead on the mysterious spate of pirate flags that appeared in the Harborception last month.

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He doesn’t even look a little bit sorry.

At first, the authorities tried to blame Two Men And Their Dog, because isn’t this just the sort of thing those troublemakers would do! But due to insubstantial evidence, police were unable to make an arrest.

Members of the community were quick to point fingers at other suspects. Blame was ascribed to the teenage students of the Fenclave, actual pirates, and an ancient Egyptian goddess bent on raising a zombie army (actually, only Father Mumblehill of the Flaxen-Mary Abbey believed that last one) before the culprit was finally caught.

When the Paroder arrived on the scene, police were very upset and confused by the arrest they had just made.

“We caught the bad guy. We’re sure it’s him. The only problem is, our bad guy is a good guy!” moaned Police Chief Stephen Quill.

The perpetrator was none other than Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, Part-Time Jedi (and, apparently, Part-Time Pirate). Branch was found in neighboring Proxituate with an arsenal of Jolly Roger flags. He also has a pretty incriminating skull-and-crossbones tattoo on his right forearm.

Branch pleaded guilty. Police will work with the Assembly of Chosen to determine his fate. For now, Branch was relieved of his pirate flags and light saber. He was last seen shuffling along Route 3A in his Jedi robe, playing a broken guitar and singing forlornly.

Branch’s boss, Senior Ranger Roc Rubble, was seen nearby, sobbing as he drank from a flask. We were unable to confirm whether the drinking was due to disappointment in his protégé, or if he simply hasn’t stopped since finding a pig-bear in Radiation State Park (a.k.a. the Womp) last fall.