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THE END TIMES VOLUME IV || ISSUE 2 || FEBRUARY 8, 2007 |
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Non-Discussion Clouds the Topic of Female Toe-Sucking Talent Show Cancelled for 2007 |
Origin of the End Times: A True StoryThe history and origins of the End Times (the paper you now read) are shrouded in mystery and porriage, in some long-forgotten memory of those long since departed. However, it is no secret that people have been worried about the End Times (the series of events leading to the end of the world) for quite some time now, and it is from thence (quite some time ago) that this veritable and heartwarming story cometh. Once upon a time, when America was young and well nigh unpolluted with white trash, there lived a magical flock of magical turkeys. They dwelt in the Land of the Mitten (present-day Michigan), along the northern coastline, and passed their days eating corn and chasing wildabeasts and buffalo. Their lives lacked nothing, and they communicated to each other through highfrequency psychic light waves in a veritable rainbow of thought-sound. (This ability has mostly been lost to time in the process of de-evolution; however, there is recent evidence to support the hypothesis that turkeys can still �speak,� as it were, in this manner - they simply cannot �hear� in it.) It was a chilly afternoon in late November (scholars believe it to have been close to the year 1612) when the head turkey began to feel restless. His magical flock had stayed in veritably the same area for some six generations, and though they had corn a-plenty and more than enough wild buffalo to chase around, he could not help but feel that there was more to the life they had been leading. So he gathered up the elders of the community, and together they communed and communicated in their rainbow-filled language, discussing the signs in the wind and the clouds and the stars and the economy. They could tell that Something was happening. When once an agreement was finally reached, the magical flock of magical turkeys packed all their feathers tightly about their respective selves and began their slow march southward. Before three days had passed, the snow began to fall, further hindering the magical turkeys� rather short and feeble legs. Nonetheless, they continued on, knowing that Something was coming. Two days after the snow had started, a great popping noise excited the magical turkeys. They sent out scouts, who soon stumbled across a covered wagon which had somehow fallen through a veritable hole in the fabric of the space-time continuum into the path of the magical turkeys. The entire magical flock was intrigued by this, and gathered around to see what would happen. As it turned out, the wagon had come from the summer of 1850, and its occupants were trying to reach California. However, they were unprepared for their sudden fall into winter and were already close to freezing. The magical turkeys realized that this could not be allowed to happen - accidental temporal travel is never to be taken lightly - and they quickly huddled around the wagon, warming the weary, frozen travellers. This, they knew, was the Something that they had been waiting - yea, veritably sent - for to do. The magical turkeys stayed there all through the cold winter, keeping the travellers warm and chasing wildabeasts into range of their rifles when the food got low. When spring came, the wagon set out once again for California, ready to tell about the magical flock of magical turkeys. However, it was still only 1613, so there was nobody there, and they turned back around and spent another winter with the magical turkeys. The next summer, they arrived back in Massachusetts, telling everyone they met of the two veritably amazing years they had spent amongst the magical flock of magical turkeys after accidentally travelling 250 years back in time. Needless to say, none of the Pilgrims believed a word of what they said. After putting up with the travellers� inane babbeling for several months, the Pilgrims finally locked them up, two years to the day (if they had known it) that the travellers had done their travelling - the third Wednesday of November. The next day, when the Pilgrims went to check on their psychotic captives, they found them vanished, almost as if they had fallen through a veritable hole in the fabric of the space-time continuum. It didn�t much matter to them; the fact was, they didn�t have to deal with the loonies any more. Therefore, they spent their Thursday rejoicing and giving thanks that all of them were sane. They even ate turkey, just to spite the travellers. And each year, they got a little more grateful that they were all sane. And that, my friends, is the veritable story of how we have Thanksgiving Day. We in the United States have forgotten, but nonetheless we celebrate all that we have been given. And then we go and prove that we�re sane (and thrifty with all our resources!) and spend hours shopping in incredibly crowded stores with non-existant sales, like the veritable psychic, magical turkey with its psychic magicalness lobotomized. But that is a story for another time. |
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