Fauxhasset Paroder, 69th Edition: Womp, Womp

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

It’s a Christmas miracle! The Womp has, in a rare moment of mercy, returned the Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) to the ranks of his fellow Fauxhassians.

Of course, in true Womp fashion, that’s not all that Radiation State Park has given our town today. The LAW emerged from the heart of the forest riding on a velociraptor. Fleeing before the pair in terror were hundreds of tiny deer the size of field mice, each with a tiny, Rudolph-red nose.

The effect was that of a bearded man astride a dinosaur floating epically into town on a phosphorescent red sea. One can hardly blame Father Mumblehill and his apostles for mistaking them for the second coming of Christ.

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Easy mistake to make. Photo credit

The faction was out in force at the entrance to the Womp, with perfume and buckets of sudsy water with which they planned to wash the Lord’s feet, as well as an electrical massage chair for the Savior to recline in while receiving his full pedicure.

Fortunately, the world did not end, and Fauxhasset now has an animal whisperer again – as well as a valued member of the community back from the dead (admit it; you all assumed he was dead).

“We are thankful the Lord has seen fit to let us live another day,” said Father Mumblehill. “Although admittedly, I’m rather disappointed. I was hoping he would sign my Bible. Ah, well. The apocalypse will catch up to us all soon enough.”

The velociraptor is being kept at Captain America’s School for the Awesome, displacing students to the adjacent, rival lower elementary school, Princess Elsa’s School for Turning Superheroes Into Snowflakes.

The LAW promised that the accommodations would be temporary, but said that the velociraptor needed ample space and the ice castle at Princess Elsa’s would not have been a suitable environment for the dinosaur’s composition, which is accustomed to the warmer climate of prehistoric Earth.

Students were not happy about the arrangements but agreed to put up with the situation temporarily.

“The boys are all saying how terrible it is that they have to live in our beautiful ice palace and sing ‘Let It Go’ every morning,” said Princess Elsa’s spokeschild Dooey Lembas. “But we girls see it as an opportunity. Santa is watching extra close this time of year, so we’re all going to be on our best behavior.”

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Fauxhasset Paroder, 65th Edition: Oh Deer Deer Deer Deer Deer Deer Deer Deer

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

It’s that time of year, folks: deer are moving outside of their normal territories and habits in search of mating partners, which may bring them into closer contact with humans.

Last fall, police responded to no fewer than 42 deer-related car accidents in the months of November and December. Incidentally, 42 was also the number of antlers each of those deer had sprouting from its head, leading residents and experts alike to label them “monsters,” “beasts,” and “demons.”

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Artist’s rendering of what Fauxhasset residents’ pets could look like if infected by the mutant deer. | Photo credit

The Local Animal Whisperer (LAW) claimed to have “slain the beast” last winter – as if there had only been one, and as if such a creature could be slain. No – what LAW did was wrestle a light saber from a local part-time Jedi and use it to inhumanely part the creature from its crown of antlers, thereby giving experts the opportunity to count them – but at what cost?

Readers, you will remember that the Womp took the LAW for its own this past summer. Perhaps now we begin to grasp why.

Last year’s mutant deer met a happier fate. The population seems to have had a successful mating season and spawned a new, more wondrous and terrible generation – giving birth not to live young separate from their own bodies, but to dozens of tiny deer affixed to the tips of their antlers.

Police advise that drivers be extra watchful on the roads – and please, for the love of Jobs, put down the iPhone Ω while operating your vehicle. Witnesses have reported encountering these deer through the new device’s alternate reality interface, leaving them shaken at best and sobbing into a pint of Jen & Berry’s strawberry potato chip ice cream in a therapist’s office three times a week at worst.

Reportedly, the alternate reality interface maps the deer’s true form onto an animated one, which dances and sings infectious karaoke tunes. At least seven victims have been infected with that erstwhile earworm, “Trevor Gonna Live You Up” by Brick Ashley.

We repeat, DO NOT look at the deer with your iPhone Ω. Encounter them wild and unfiltered, as nature never intended them to be. Behold the abomination with your naked eyeballs.

The Regional Animal Whisperer (RAW) urges residents to “live and let live” with regard to the deer, no matter how frightening they may appear. “Let nature run its course,” the RAW advised.

There is, however, a contingent of activists who believe the mutants should be hunted to the point of extinction before next year rolls around to reveal what fresh horrors the next generation will bring.

Will these fractal antlers continue to grow until each deer carries thousands of young upon its head? Or will something even more unthinkable happen, putting the citizens of our fine town at risk? Many pet owners are concerned that their furry friends could become infected by whatever is creating this Fibonacci offspring effect and are urging town officials to act before it’s too late.

What do you think? If any of our fine, educated readers have comments, concerns or ideas, please sound off in the comments section!

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.