FicWad

In the Concrete Jungle there lived a man, but no one remembereth his name. And these art the descendants of the unremembered man:

The unremembered man begat Gamaliel. And Gamaliel begat The Man Who Invented Ass-Wipe. And The Man Who Invented Ass-Wipe begat Elijah the Constipated.

And Elijah the Constipated begat Lotan. And Lotan begat Pedahzur. And Pedahzur begat Good Ol’ What’s-His-Face, who was never forgotten; for people always said of him, ‘I shall never forget Good Ol’ What’s-His-Face!’

And Good Ol’ What’s-His-Face begat Pagiel. And Pagiel begat Ahira. And Ahira begat The Man Who Popularized Nose-Picking. And The Man Who Popularized Nose-Picking begat Enan. And Enan begat Dathan the Asshole. And Dathan the Asshole begat Ocran. And Ocran begat Abiram. And Abiram begat the Second Gunman on the Grassy Knoll.

And the Second Gunman on the Grassy Knoll begat Eleazar. And Eleazar begat Balak. And Balak begat Bela the Impotent. And Bela the Impotent adopted Tirzah. And Tirzah begat Machir. And Machir begat Ahihud the Republican. And Ahihud the Republican begat Zabdi. And Zabdi begat D-Devil. And D-Devil begat Hadatah. And Hadatah begat Gwyn-Zen, the Guru of Math.

And Gwyn-Zen, the Guru of Math begat Jarmuth. And Jarmuth begat Shilhim. And Shilhim begat Tappuah. And Tappuah begat Ziklag. Ziklag begat Adullam. And Adullam begat Myles.

One day Myles was gathering explosive eggs from his mother’s farting chickens, when he met four people and a Faerie.

‘Dagnabbit!’ quoth Myles. ‘Knowest thou the danger of farting chicken eggs?’

‘Farting chickens!?’ cried the tall one.

‘Well, that wouldst explain the stench,’ quoth the Faerie. ‘Told ya!’

‘I don’t think healthy chickens canst make that kind of smell,’ quoth the Brian.

‘I prithee pardon our intrusion,’ quoth one of the men. ‘We thought the eggs a useful weapon against the evil Technomage. I am called Scoot the Ko’ An, and these art my friends, Pope Casey, Brian Fritz Skanky-Bitch, and Jennifer, the High Priestess of Hondo.’

‘Holy cow! I have heard of thee!’ quoth Myles, ‘But I don’t buy into the Hondo thing. There art no Gods of Hondo.’

And so it came to pass that Matt, the God of Everything Else, didst appear before them as a Flying Hellfish, and said unto them: ‘Hail, Myles! If thou shalt prove thyself worthy, thou shalt be our new Choirboy, for we art needing one now that Casey is the Pope.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ quoth Myles.

‘But I stand before thee, and thou speaketh unto me…’

‘I still don’t believe it,’ quoth Myles. ‘Thou’rt just a figment of mine imagination.’

‘I shall leave the Choirboy position open if thou changest thy mind,’ spake Matt. ‘Until that day, thou shalt be called Myles the Unbeliever.’

‘Don’t hold thy breath,’ quoth Myles. ‘It is clear that thou art all delusional. I shall travel with thee and help thee regain thy senses.’

‘Whatever…’ spake the God of Everything Else as he didst vanish from their midst.

‘See,’ quoth Myles. ‘I didst wish him away. Just a figment of mine imagination.’

‘Oh yeah!’ spake Matt as he didst reappear, for good measure.

‘Fine, have it thy way,’ quoth Myles. ‘Then I seeth a figment of their imaginations.’

‘I shall return when I have a good rebuttal to that,’ spake the God of Everything Else as he didst vanish once again.

‘Uh-Oh…’ quoth Brian Fritz as he didst fumble one of the eggs.

And there was a great explosion which destroyed Myles’ mother’s farting chicken farm in a massive mushroom cloud, and feathers didst rain down upon the countryside.

‘What!? How now?’ quoth Scoot. ‘We art still alive!’

‘Aye,’ spake Matt, the God of Everything Else, who once again stood before them. ‘Thou’rt lucky I was still in the neighborhood.’

‘What irony!’ quoth Casey, ‘We art saved by Deus Ex Machina!’

‘ ’Tis our divine right,’ spake the God of Everything Else.

‘Oh, shoot!’ quoth Myles. ‘Mom’s really gonna be irked! Gosh-darnit!’

‘Since when didst thou care what thy mother thinks?’ asked Matt. ‘Now dost thou believe?’

‘No. This is merely a dream,’ quoth Myles.

‘Fine,’ spake the God of Everything Else. ‘For that, we shall take away Brian Fritz’s title. Thou art now just the Sacrificial Goat once more.’

‘But thou’rt punishing me for what Myles did!’ Brian Fritz didst protest.

‘Thou art the Sacrificial Goat, right?’ spake Matt. ‘Then thou art our scapegoat.’

‘Thou be trippin’, Homes!’ quoth Myles.

‘Is thy name Slim Shady?’ quoth Scoot. ‘Alrighty, then. Thou must be trippin’ too, Myles.’

‘Fiddlesticks!’ quoth Myles.

‘What the fuck is his problem?’ quoth Nori.

‘Now that we hath number, how shall we know one another?’ asked Brian Fritz.

‘Elementary,’ spake the God of Everything Else. ‘That is why we didst invent the Hondo Salute. It goeth just like this.’

And he didst show them the Hondo Salute.

That having been resolved, they didst set forth again to find the Technomage.