Fauxhasset Paroder, 72nd Edition: They Came from Outer Space

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Christmas presents weren’t the only thing that was opened in Fauxhasset this morning. There’s also a brand new space-time portal above Castle Girdlehausen that opened while Fauxhasset slept.

Residents awoke to a snowy Christmas morning, but not in quite the way they might have hoped: instead of falling out of the sky, the thick white flakes were falling upwards into the sky, all seemingly streaming toward a single point directly above the new Castle Girdlehausen in the Mecca Mile wetlands.


“We made it!” exclaimed this unidentified alien in a Snapchat story sent to his home planet, JELAMENA-8. Photo credit

It was difficult to get very close, as the castle was heavily guarded by an army of cyborgs that hotelier Ord Girdlehyde had been generously hosting at the hotel until Town officials could figure out how to either employ them or get rid of them. There was also a very large exodus of very small, red-nosed reindeer underfoot that the gathering crowd was afraid to step on, thus keeping most onlookers at bay.

However, a close-up view was not needed, and may have been ill-advised anyway. The rift was clearly visible from afar, and when the Paroder arrived on the scene, a very strange procession indeed was emerging from the hole in space.

Aliens, readers. Tall ones, short ones, skinny ones, fat ones, green ones, purple ones, and (perhaps most upsetting of all) ones that looked just like us. Fauxhasset is no stranger to aliens, but this many all in one place and all at once – well, residents were rightfully concerned.

“Our tax dollars are supposed to protect us from this sort of thing,” boomed Larry Lembas, a former resident of Achey Cedars Way, which has been mostly abandoned since strange symbols were discovered on the street in July.

Lembas’s former neighbor Charles LeRouge swirled his red wine, sniffed, and agreed.

Paranormal investigator Buster DeGost had rushed to the scene in his bathrobe and was scribbling furiously on a map, which depicted the locations of every supernatural incident that had occurred around town for the past year.

DeGost calculated that the coordinates of the rift fell in the precise center of the Fauxhasset Triangle, a perfect equilateral triangle formed by three sites where strange markings painted in red were discovered earlier this year: the Achey Cedars Way cul de sac, the now-vacant property at 8 Lame Jane, and a cave on Fame Island where Punxsutawney Phil had been held prisoner last spring.

“Ah,” was all DeGost said as his pencil slowed and understanding dawned. “I should have known it would be here.”

By mid-morning, the police had arrived in helicopters, as well as a few private citizens whose helicopters were also stalling up in the airspace to watch the drama unfold. Ord Girdlehyde was taken into custody, along with the Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) who was apparently in cahoots with him the whole time.

A velociraptor, which the LAW claims to be his “service animal,” is also being held at the police station while the investigation is ongoing.


Fauxhasset Paroder, 71st Edition: Unemployed Androids

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

After several weeks of negotiations, the robot army problem has been solved. Ish. At least, the thousands of cyborgs are no longer standing in the harbor. But they’re not gone, either. Out of sight. Not out of mind.


These robots are getting ENTIRELY too comfortable in Fauxhasset. Ugh, no techy PDA, please! | Photo credit

The robots, which marched out of the black hole in the harbor four days after Thanksgiving on a day which shall henceforth be known as “Cyborg Monday,” at first resisted all attempts to bargain. Or perhaps “resisted” is the wrong word. They simply did not respond at all.

They watched, unmoving, with those gently pulsing blue eyes as Town Manager Mown Tanager and his wife Mrs. Tanager presented them with 500 home-baked casseroles. When Alien ϨΔиϮα offered to shuttle them home in his spaceship, they looked on with those benign alabaster faces showing neither consideration of the offer nor any degree of gratitude.

The police department’s offer to guide the cyborgs through the naturalization process was met with more blank, pulsing blue stares. A generous offer by Mevin Kirk, Chair Chosen of the Assembly of Chosen, to connect each robot with gainful employment in the community caused not the slightest stir among them.

It was once again Ord Girdlehyde, owner of the Mad Elephant Hotel and the new Castle Girdlehausen (and the town’s most hated part-time resident), who came to Fauxhasset’s rescue – just like when he found Punxsutawney Phil and saved us all from the Thousand Foot Snow last April.

We should probably all stop hating him so much.

The hotelier approached the robot army with a simple offer of shelter and hospitality. The Mad Elephant Hotel was full, as usual, with a mishmash of displaced Fauxhasset residents and Girdlehyde’s ever-growing cast of riffraff and oddballs, but the nearly-completed Castle Girdlehausen had lots of space.

Additionally, there were several abandoned full-size homes on Achey Cedars Way, which residents vacated in July when strange symbols were discovered during roadway reconstruction. A number of the robots have taken up temporary residence there.

Still others are glamping on other vacant properties in town, including the former site of the 8 Lame Jane townhomes, which burned down earlier this fall, and Fame Island, which Alien ϨΔиϮα finally abandoned when he found the town unwilling to issue him any building permits.

Town Manager Mown Tanager made it very clear that these accommodations are temporary and that a permanent solution must be found within 90 days, or the Town will have to remove the cyborgs by force.

“Residents are concerned, and they have every right to be,” Tanager said. “They were promised that Castle Girdlehausen would not become another transient lodging house like the Mad Elephant Hotel, and already it’s being managed the same way as everyone’s least favorite establishment.”

“This hotel has poisoned our groundwater with glitter and pitched Mecca Mile into a frenzy of construction,” said Tanager. “And now, Ord is taking on more freeloaders. These robots need jobs. They need to contribute to our community. Or they need to be gone. It isn’t fair to our residents.”

“The local bylaws require that inns and restaurants keep regular operating hours during which they are open to the public,” added Chair Chosen Kirk. “We’re permitting this for now because it benefits the public to get the cyborgs out of the harbor, but Ord is going to have to address this sooner rather than later.”

Fauxhasset Paroder, 52nd Edition: Everything is Connected

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter


Come on, Buster; what kind of map is this? All the street names are spelled wrong. “Jerusalem Road?” “Atlantic Ave?” Everyone knows its “Mecca Mile” and “Atlantis Boulevard.”

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.”