by Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter
It’s Annual Town Séance season, and you know what that means: Public meetings are scheduled twice as often, are three times as well-attended, and last four times longer than normal.
So imagine the delight and relief felt by the Assembly of Chosen and their devotees when this week’s meeting wrapped up in less than five seconds. No sooner had everyone entered the room and taken their seats than they were all on their feet again, bidding each other good night.
Everyone, however, looked as tired as if they’d been sitting there for fifty years. In fact, several people present (including your reporter) developed wrinkles, and four members of the audience dropped dead, along with two of the Chosen.
The secretary lost all her teeth. An unidentified 60-year-old woman became pre-pubescent. The Paroder’s broadcast technician Miike “Jax” Jackson became an instant silver fox. Town Manager Mown Tanager went bald and needed to be aroused from a deep nap by She-Chosen Kaia Dennis.
And the Temple, readers – it was ruined. All around, the gold leaf was flaking off, chunks of stone were crumbling from pillars, ancient records were disintegrating at the slightest glance. Cobwebs dominated every corner except for the one near the restrooms, which was flooded. All that remained of the ever-burning torches were deep, charred pits with not a spark in sight.
“I knew we shouldn’t have cheaped out on the new administrative wing,” said Chair-Chosen Mevin Kirk in a slow, quavering tone that shook his jowls and produced a little dribble at the corner of his mouth. “I told you it wouldn’t last. Now get off my lawn.”
The new administrative wing was added only five years ago – though from the look of it now, it might as well have been five generations, or even centuries.
“They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” mourned He-Chosen Saul Preston.
The Chosen made no decision regarding when, how, and at what cost the Temple should be repaired. As Kirk noted, the topic had not been included on the meeting agenda distributed to the public, so it could not be discussed under the open meeting laws.
Instead, the Chosen and their devotees shuffled sadly out, leaving the media alone with the dead and some assorted cats.
The Silver Fox replayed the meeting footage again and again, looking for a clue as to what had happened. Finally, after slowing down the recording more than 500 percent, he was able to pinpoint the moment when everything changed – and at that moment, a roar – no, a cry for help: A disembodied voice demanding, “Where’s my son?”
Readers, there is only one possible explanation. We know that a timeraptor has been passing through town on his migrational route these last few years. We suspect that this timeraptor reproduced with a velociraptor to produce the spacial rift above Castle Girdlehausen in January. Now, it seems, the raptor’s parental units have come calling.
If we thought the concise, three-and-a-half-hour Semiannual Town Séance caused by the younger timeraptor was strange, we can only guess what bizzarities lie ahead with the arrival of an even more ancient and powerful creature: Father Timeraptor.
Folks, if you have elderly loved ones, no one would judge you for checking them in to the self-storage facility until this whole mess gets squared away.