Fauxhasset Paroder, 41st Edition: What the cup?

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

The town is in an uproar over Mooncheddar’s new spring coffee cups.

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They’re calling these “Easter cups?” At least the red cups evoked imagery of the blood of Christ. Photo credit

Customers leaving the drive-through Friday morning found that their coffee had been handed to them in an unadorned, pastel yellow, green, or turquoise cup instead of the usual white cup emblazoned with Mooncheddar’s iconic green logo, which features a Pegasus flying to the moon.

The Paroder caught up with some dissatisfied customers who had gone to the trouble of parking their cars and storming into the café to demand an exchange.

“Look at this cup! Do you see any bunnies on this cup?” said one customer, whose fingernails had been manicured to look like Easter eggs. “The Easter cups always have pictures of bunnies and flowers and little baby chicks hatching out of eggs. Mooncheddar is clearly waging war on Easter.”

Other customers agreed with her.

“It’s this ‘political correctness’ bullsh—t that’s taken over the country,” said a grizzly, bearded old man. “Can’t even wish somebody a happy Easter without the PC police coming to call. These damn millennials and their safe spaces.”

Deacon Mooney of the last remaining Christian church in Fauxhasset was found weeping softly in the corner as he prayed the rosary.

“I don’t have a problem with them getting rid of the bunnies,” said Mooney. “All that stuff is just a pagan distraction from the true meaning of Easter.”

“But if they wanted to make a point,” said Mooney, “they should have depicted Christ on the cross, his tears mingling with blood from the wound in his side. Two thieves, nailed to crosses on either side of him. Or Christ emerging from the grave, holes still in his hands, but radiant and victorious as his followers weep and fall to their knees in worship. Now that’s messaging.”

Nom Chompsky, town glutton, could be seen at the next table, collecting everyone’s rejected coffees and chugging his way through the ever-growing collection of pastel cups.

“This is my 19th free coffee today,” Chompsky declared. “I don’t care what color cup it’s in; I’m just thankful the Lord has chosen to bless me with caffeine for another day.”

Fauxhasset Paroder, 18th Edition: Man in red, dead?

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Santa was spotted jumping off the Hoarder Street Bridge in the days following Christmas.

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The photographer, of course, called the cops FIRST and took this picture SECOND, as any good Samaritan would. Courtesy photo via Russ Bonetti

Moments later – “as if in a movie,” said witnesses – the spacecraft that appeared during the Christmas Eve parade rose up from below to catch him. The alien calmly stepped into a hatch and the ship “enveloped him,” said witnesses, “like a mother and her prodigal son.” The craft reportedly rose straight into the sky and zipped off into the distance without a sound.

Police and the Paroder arrived on the scene shortly after in response to calls about a “Santa suicide.”

But officers had barely had time to take down witnesses’ names and observations before the spacecraft reappeared, just as silently as it had left, and the Alien Santa stepped back out onto the bridge with his arms full of Cop & GOP grocery bags.

“Ho ho ho,” he said by way of greeting.

Police Chief Stephen Quill didn’t miss a beat. “ϨΔиϮα!” he said. “We thought you’d skipped town without saying goodbye.”

The man in red grinned widely and seemed to ponder this. “Would that have been rude?” he finally asked, still grinning.

“Well,” said Quill, “we’re pretty friendly around here. Don’t be afraid to say ‘hi’ or ‘bye’ as you’re coming and going, that’s all.”

“I have noted this duly,” said the alien. “But fear not; I shall never ‘skip town,’ for Fauxhasset is the most perfect place in the universe!”

“It sure is,” agreed Quill. “Have a great night, Mr. Claus.”

Police dispersed the crowd of onlookers attracted by the bright lights of the spacecraft. The craft parked itself in the satellite lot for the night, but police noted that this would only work as a short-term solution – the satellite lot, as we all know, is reserved for employees, not for spaceships.

Quill said he’d mention the shortage of spacecraft parking at the Assembly of Chosen’s next Marathon of Remarks.

The man who’d called the police was the last to leave the scene. When asked by the Paroder for a comment, he just shook his head and said, “I can’t believe Santa shops at Cop & GOP. He seemed like such a socialist.”

Fauxhasset Paroder, 17th Edition: a Tale of Two Santas 

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Night video shot on iPhone 7 by Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, part-time Jedi. Photo credit

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Town, many creatures were stirring of little renown. But we won’t talk about them. Meanwhile, in the bright, twinkling lights of the harbor, many creatures were also stirring, many of them of great renown.

There was Town Manager Mown Tanager, Police Chief Stephen Quill, Deacon Mooney of the last remaining Christian Church in Fauxhasset, Ben Bentley (the richest man in town), Stuart Semple (inventor of the world’s glitteriest glitter), and Ord Girdlehyde, owner of Ye Olde Pepper Mill, Pacifica, the Mad Elephant Hotel, and basically the entire harbor – he’s kind of a big deal.

Governor Barley Chaker and Mayor of Fauxston Warty Malsh also made appearances.

The event was so popular that there was no parking to be found, even in the most distant corners of the satellite lot (which, contrary to popular belief, is normally reserved for employees, not for visiting spacecraft).

A light mist was falling, but with the help of the congress of ghosts under the Town’s employ since Halloween, it was readily turned into a very localized snow flurry.

The Steer Mill School band performed a Christmas medley, and considering that no one ever taught them how to play those clarinets and violins, they did a darn good job.

The divided lower elementary school also performed, but since the girls and boys couldn’t agree on which carols to sing, no one was sure when to join in, when to applaud, or even when the concert was over. We’re pretty sure most of the girls were just singing “Let it Go” from Frozen over and over.

The middle-high school is, of course, still in lockdown, awaiting a response from President-Elect Tom Brady. This holiday season, let us all be thankful for the organic, perpetual growth garden in the high school courtyard, without which most of our children would probably be dead by now.

After the student performances, it was time for Santa to arrive and lead the traditional Christmas Eve parade through the village. Suddenly the harbor waters were a-twinkle with hundreds of little white lights, fixed to the tips of dozens of reinduck antlers.

The reinducks were genetically engineered just this week by the Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) using DNA from one of the hundred-antlered deer that have been terrorizing motorists throughout Fauxhasset this month. A very fine job, MR. LAW.

Soon Santa would arrive on his duck boat, which the Town rented from the City of Fauxston after the forefathers told Town officials earlier this week that Santa should not arrive by land or by sea this year, but by land and sea.

“The forefathers have never steered us wrong,” Mevin Kirk, Chair-Chosen of the Assembly of Chosen, previously told the Paroder. “We asked them to knock once if Santa should arrive by land, and twice if by sea. They knocked three times, so I think the answer is pretty clear: it’s both.”

Yet as the duck boat came into view, something else began to happen: a bright white light appeared in the sky, directly over the harbor, and hovered there, glinting off the waves with blinding brightness.

“Santa’s coming on a sleigh after all!” guessed the children.

“It’s the Star of Bethlehem!” guessed Mooney.

“The Sith have found me!” shouted Devan Branch, Radiation State Park Rookie Ranger and part-time Jedi.

They were all wrong. It was a flying saucer, and as the townsfolk watched, it smoothly parked itself in the middle of the harbor, right alongside Santa’s duck boat. The man in red climbed to the upper level of the duck boat for a better view. A hatch in the saucer slid neatly open, and out stepped…

Another man in red.

His outfit matched Santa’s perfectly. So did his height and stature. Our photographer zoomed in and confirmed that the men were, in fact, identical.

The man from the saucer gave a jolly wave and said, with an accent no one could place, “Sorry, folks – the satellite lot was full!”

Officials tried to get to the bottom of things. “We already have a Santa,” blustered the Town Manager. “You must be in the wrong harbor.”

“This is Fauxhasset,” said the stranger with the accent. “The most perfect place in the universe. I have made no error. I have come to live here, with you, in this most perfect locale. I am… how you say?… ϨΔиϮα.”

“No, I’m Santa!” objected the Santa on the duck boat (whom locals know is actually Bob Diggins – but don’t tell the children). “Look, I’ve got the bag of presents and the reind— uh, the reinducks.”

Police then stepped in to settle the dispute. ϨΔиϮα was asked to relocate his spacecraft to a lot behind the police station until a more permanent parking solution could be found.

Meanwhile, Diggins rode his duck boat into town and led the largest (and most uneasy) Christmas Eve parade the town has ever seen.

“I see, I see,” Kirk was heard muttering as he brought up the rear of the parade. “Three knocks didn’t mean ‘by land and sea.’ It mean ‘by air.’”

Who is this strange ϨΔиϮα, readers, and what business does he have impersonating our Bob Diggins and interrupting our Christmas Eve parade? Your local reporter is on the case. Look for more on this issue in an upcoming edition of the Paroder.