Fauxhasset Paroder, 42nd Edition: Punxsutawney Punk’d, Part 5

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

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

[Catch up on the latest installment]

 

groundhog

It’s the ciiiiiiircle of liiiiiiife after death. Photo credit

The most hated man in town is now a hero.

Ord Girdlehyde, owner of Pacifica, Ye Olde Salt House, the Mad Elephant Hotel, and basically the entire harbor (he’s kind of a big deal) cut short his winter holiday on the African savannah and returned to snowy Fauxhasset to search for Punxsutawney Phil, missing since Feb. 2. And he found him.

Girdlehyde teamed up with JJ Henry, developer of the 8 Lame Jane townhomes, and a band of coyotes who had been living at the Mad Elephant Hotel to sniff out the missing groundhog.

“The bad weather was crippling our business,” Girdlehyde said. “The black hole in the harbor was one thing, but nobody wants to get married in the snow.”

“Construction was at a standstill,” added Henry. “We actually convinced the Planning Board to lift the cease and desist order, but a lot of good it did us with all this snow.”

Our heroes found Phil on Fame Island in a dead-end tunnel, blocked in by a large boulder that had been rolled in front of the mouth of the cave.

The property owner had started blasting the tunnel out of the coastal ledge to build a knock-off Space Mountain roller coaster before the Guardians of the Ocean, Shore and Harbor (GOSH) told him he couldn’t put a theme park on the island for environmental reasons. Now, what had been intended as a fun escape had become a prison.

Upon rolling the boulder aside, the men were briefly blinded by a bright light emanating from the cave. No… not from the cave. From the groundhog inside. As their eyes adjusted, the radiant rodent turned to face them.

“The time of shadows is past,” said Punxsutawney Phil in a deep baritone – and indeed, he cast no shadow, only light: a sure sign that spring had arrived.

The imposter, dubbed “Fauxsutawney Fil” by locals, still has not been apprehended, but his sway over the town seems to have diminished already. The snow has stopped falling, and the sun even broke through the clouds this morning. The uppermost layers of snow have begun to soften.

Still, it’s likely to be a while yet before we’re rid of these 3,141 inches of snow. So keep rationing that milky bread, and as always, remember to tip your carrier squirrel.

It’s probably safe to stop with the burnt offerings, though.

Fauxhasset Paroder, 36th Edition: Punxsutawney Punk’d, Part 4

by Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

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

[Catch up on the latest installment]

b9d2a6eedc80fcabcf3259664c269ad5

Remember to tip your carrier squirrel! Between snow cleanup and mail delivery, those little guys are working overtime. Photo credit

At dawn on the last day of winter, the sky churned forth a great blizzard, the likes of which made last month’s 12 feet of snow look like a cute little Christmas snow globe.

It blustered all day and all night. Then, at dawn on the first day of spring, Fauxsutawney Fil appeared.

Fil rode into town on a wooden sleigh drawn by nine of the Womp’s 50-antlered mutant deer. The foremost had a 3,000-lumen LED nose compliant with the Green and Renewable Energy Group’s sustainability guidelines for the town.

The deer returned Fil to the Hallowed Burrow from whence he’d emerged on Groundhog Day. The wrathful raccoon then took to his soapbox, guarded by his squadron of deer so that the Local and Regional Animal Whisperers (LAW and RAW) couldn’t reach him.

“This is just sad,” said Fil, surveying the paltry hundred spectators who had bundled up and gathered on the Common to hear him speak. The rest were hunkered down inside, praying (as would soon become clear) to entirely the wrong god.

“Nobody likes winter,” said Fil. “Do you like winter? I don’t like winter. So I worked out a deal with your leaders to keep winter from ever bothering you nice folks again.”

“That’s what they asked for. That’s what you all asked for,” said Fil. “But instead of thanks, what do I get? Hunted, that’s what I get. And the whole town out looking for that impostor, Punxsutawney Phil, without a word of thanks for me! Sad. Don’t you know who I am?”

No one, in fact, knew who he was.

“Sad,” Fil repeated.

The large raccoon claimed to be the reincarnation of the original “Groundhog,” a Roman hedgehog by the name of Romulus Augustus Legolas Petrificus-totalus Hedgehogius (May He Rest In… ah, well, scratch that last part now, I guess) – or, for short, RALPH.

Like most modern holidays, Fil recounted, Groundhog Day started out as a religious tradition. All the ceremonies, festivals, and ritual sacrifices were made on RALPH’s account – and he, a god, showed mercy by ushering in the spring on years when the people’s efforts pleased him.

Of course, any history book will tell you that much. The real question is whether Fil truly is RALPH, or whether the raccoon is not only mad, but also mad. And the question’s not just rhetorical. Fauxhasset will have to decide what it believes, and soon, before the whole town is buried in snow.

“I tried to warn you all with that storm last month,” Fil said. “I’ve been very reasonable. From day one, all I’ve asked of you was repentance. But I guess that was too much. Well, no more Mr. Nice Guy. This time the snow’s not stopping until every last one of you stands before me and personally repents.”

Look for more on this issue in an upcoming edition of the Paroder. And please remember to tip your carrier squirrel; between mail delivery and snow cleanup, those little guys are working overtime.

Fauxhasset Paroder, 34th edition: Punxsutawney Punk’d (Part 3)

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

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

[Catch up on the latest installment]

disguised-raccoon-bomber-22777

Police sketch of Fauxsutawney Fil, the raccoon posing as groundhog Punxsutawney Phil (who still has not been found). Photo credit

A large, angry raccoon, which locals have dubbed “Fauxsatawney Fil,” has been on the run from the LAW (Local Animal Whisperer) since February 2. Police and Radiation State Park rangers are stumped.

Fauxsatawney Fil emerged screaming from the Hallowed Burrow on Groundhog Day, advising the thousands camped out on the Common that nuclear winter was nigh and they should all repent.

“When there’s a weird animal in town, sooner or later it always ends up in the Womp,” said Senior Ranger Roc Rubble. (“The Womp” is how Peachhooders and other abutters refer to the park because of the noises that come out of it at night.)

“But in this case,” said Rubble, “we haven’t heard a thing. Or at least, no things any stranger than usual. Definitely no screaming raccoons.”

Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, Part-Time Jedi, said he had been trying to attract the creature with a variety of bait – peanut butter, chicken, Pop-Tarts, even a roll of Ye Olde Pepper Mill’s $500 incandescent sushi – but all he’d caught so far was the Womp’s own resident pig-bear and its cub. Several times.

The LAW thinks Fauxsatawney Fil has already skipped town. “He’s big, but not so big that he couldn’t slip across town lines under cover of darkness, especially if he cut through the Womp,” said the officer.

“Who knows where he is now? Proxituate? Kingham? He could be as far as Borewell or even Pemborke by now,” said the LAW. “I said we should have gotten the RAW on this case right off the bat. Bringing him in now, we’ve just made his job that much harder.”

The Regional Animal Whisperer arrived in Fauxhasset this morning and will be working with the LAW and local rangers to locate the angry impostor. Stay tuned for more on this issue in an upcoming edition of the Paroder.

[Punxsutawney Punk’d, Part 4]