An Emotional Tale

My feet are peeling, and there is sadness in Jux town. The priests are weeping, the nuns are flying, the women are playing poker in the backseats of cars while laughing at the PGA tour. But it is also a time of great rejoicing. Each year, upon the peeling of the feet, the great god Juupyr falls from the sky to bring beer and bread to the starving populace of Jux town, which suffer under the rule of their oppressive oligarchy. The Praetors, fearing for their lives, run up trees from bears, who are set free when Juupyr attacks the zoos to liberate his patron animal, the red-assed Panda. The acolytes of Juupyr celebrate this event each year by passing long-overdue legislation. This is the Year of the Anti Spam Laws that Punish the Evil Advertising Men of Doom who Plague the Planet and Use Our Fossil Fuels to Create Wonderful Things that are Cheap because they were Paid For by Advertisements, yes, ADvertisements, not adVERTisments. Only idiots say adVERTisment. Like Mrs. Horton. We made her hair fall out. It was funny. Kinda like the fact that my feet are peeling, only applied to a middle aged woman who can’t pronounce word’s head, and made funnier, because she didn’t get any new hair, only really bad wigs. Wigs of destruction. The destruction of the souls of children. She hated children, especially gifted ones. That’s why she became an AIM teacher. We showed her, though, didn’t we? That’s right. She wanted to get us high, and now she can’t even remember our names, because we made her stupid, because that’s what we do. Make people stupid. Stupider. And then they travel in large groups with giant “Find” buttons on their chest. Notice count: 0. All systems ready for launch. Nominally. Welcome to Frankfurt, home of the Frankfurter and pants. Also, Pogromic Praetors.