FicWad

And it came to pass that the Sacrificial Goat didst materialize in front of an old-ish looking grave. And on the grave was an inscription.

And these were the words of the inscription on the oldish-looking grave: ‘Here lies the Sacrificial Goat Formerly Known as Hans, also known as Brian Fritz Pud Yoco Peppy McBean Oreamnos Americanus Something Skanky-Bitch.’

‘What the hell is this?’ demanded Something, ‘And why the fuck hath I a splitting headache?’

‘Thou art dead…’ responded an ominous voice.

‘But that canst not be,’ quoth Something, ‘for the Gods of Hondo have made me immortal. And why dost thou soundeth so much like my mother?’

‘Dammit!’ spake the voice.

And Something’s surroundings didst fade away, and were replaced with the Pearly Gates.

‘And now…’ spake the voice of a disembodied announcer, ‘here is thy host… a cheap substitute for common sense… Saint Peter!’

‘Knoweth everyone what time it is?…’ quoth Saint Peter.

‘Aye!!’ cried the crowd of angels and demons in the audience.

‘ ’Tis time to play…’

‘Sheep Goeth to Heaven, Goats Goeth to Hell!’ cried they.

‘I liketh not the sound of this…’ quoth the Sacrificial Goat.

‘And now, introducing today’s contestants,’ quoth Saint Peter. ‘Here today is the Sacrificial Goat of Hondo, Brian Fritz Pud Yoco Peppy McBean Oreamnos Americanus Something Skanky-Bitch… Continuing her quest for money in her intimidation lawsuit against the Grim Reaper, a secretary from the firm of the Monolith Corporation… and the returning champion, having died an unbelievable 840 times, Dolly the Sheep!

‘Now let us begin,’ quoth St Peter, and he didst read a card: ‘Miss Secretary, for ten points, canst thou tell us how many Commandments art voided by the Thirty-Second Commandment?’

‘How the hell shouldst I know?’ demanded she. ‘That creepy Mr Raper didst storm out of mine office, and I was so scared, I didst not return to work. But I couldst not find anyone who wouldst do anything about it. They all sayeth I was crazy for saying that Death was out to get me… then here I am…’

‘Sorry, wrong answer,’ quoth St Peter. ‘For fifteen points, canst thou telleth me how many Commandments art voided by the Thirty-Second Commandment?’

And Dolly didst ring her buzzer.

‘Dolly?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Baaa-eeeee-a…’ quoth she.

‘Sorry! Wrong!’ quoth St Peter. ‘I guess the clones hath gone bad again. Something, for twenty points, canst thou telleth me how many Commandments art voided by the Thirty-Second Commandement?’

‘Two,’ quoth Something.

‘Excellent!’ quoth St Peter. ‘Alrighty then, for twenty points: In the line of Dirty Uncle Orty, the Reverend Jimmy was the son of this man.’

And Dolly didst ring her buzzer.

‘Dolly?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Baaa-eeeee-a…’ quoth she.

‘I’m sorry, thine answer must be in the form of a question!’ quoth St Peter as turned unto the secretary. ‘For twenty points: In the line of Dirty Uncle Orty, the Reverend Jimmy was the son of this man.’

And the secretary didst ring her buzzer.

‘Miss Secretary?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Who is running this show?’ demanded she.

‘Nope!’ quoth St Peter.

And a buzzer didst sound.

‘Uh-oh!’ quoth St Peter. ‘Knowest thou what time it is? ’Tis time for the One-Hundred Meter Anal Probe!’

And it came to pass that the Probe-O-Matic didst take the secretary away.

‘Is this really part of getting into heaven?’ quoth she.

‘Yes, actually,’ quoth St Peter. ‘Yea, tho many think ’twas added by the Gods of Hondo, the Probe-O-Matic was actually designed as a form of hazing for those weak-minded fools who didst actually get into Heaven by doing all of the stuff in the Bible. Enjoy thy trip, Miss Secretary!

‘Now, that doth leave it down to thee, Something and Dolly. Something, for twenty points: In the line of Dirty Uncle Orty, the Reverend Jimmy was the son of this man.’

‘Who is Samaria?’ quoth Something.

‘Correct!’ quoth St Peter. And this time he didst spin the wheel to decide what the question wouldst be. ‘Now, for thirty points, canst thou tell me which of the following didst not happen to the people at the end of the Pointless Tale of Pippin the Bastard:

‘a) the entire football team had fishes stuck up their asses?

‘b) the whole town was trippin’ out?

‘c) the road to Kungfucius’ didst implode after a bizarre confrontation with Naginata the Polite Assassin?

‘Or d) that Pippin’s bastard son didst travel back in time and destroy the Great Othwog once and for all after the explosive, fiery death of N Sync and Britney Spears?’

And Dolly didst ring her buzzer.

‘Dolly?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Baaa-eeeee-a…’ quoth she.

‘That is incorrect,’ quoth St Peter. ‘Something, now for thirty points, canst thou tell me which of the following didst not happen to the people at the end of the Pointless Tale of Pippin the Bastard:

‘a) the entire football team had fishes stuck up their asses?

‘b) the whole town was trippin’ out?

‘c) the road to Kungfucius’ didst implode after a bizarre confrontation with Naginata the Polite Assassin?

‘Or d) that Pippin’s bastard son didst travel back in time and destroy the Great Othwog once and for all after the explosive, fiery death of N Sync and Britney Spears?’

‘I wouldst have to say C,’ quoth Something.

‘Correct, Something!’ quoth St Peter. ‘Dolly, thou hast one last chance to defeat Something. For sixty points, answer me this: For the Sixth Labor of the Dudes, what didst Scoot the Ko’An have to do?’

And Dolly didst ring her buzzer.

‘Dolly?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Baaa-eeeee-a…’ quoth she.

‘Ooh, wrong again!’ quoth St Peter. ‘Something, for the Sixth Labor of the Dudes, what didst Scoot the Ko’An have to do?’

‘He didst have to cleaneth the Radioactive Catbox from Hell,’ quoth Something.

‘Correct!’ quoth St Peter. ‘Dolly, thou hast another chance to get back in the game. For one hundred and fifty points, canst thou tell me the name of the “Politically Correct” Faerie that didst run with the Dudes?’

And Dolly didst ring her buzzer.

‘Dolly?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Baaa-eeeee-a…’ quoth she.

‘Is this like unto the John Wayne Strategy?’ quoth St Peter, ‘for “John Wayne” may well be the answer to one of these questions, but whatever it is thou art saying is not.

‘Now, Something, for one hundred and fifty points, canst thou tell me the name of the “Politically Correct” Faerie that didst run with the Dudes?’

And Something didst think about it for a long moment, then said unto him: ‘I shall useth my life-line…’

‘...Very well,’ quoth St Peter, ‘who shalt thou call?’

‘Scoot the Ko’An,’ quoth he.

And so St Peter didst call.

‘Ahoy-hoy!’ quoth Scoot.

‘Zooty, zoot, zoot!’ quoth Something, ‘ ’Tis I, Something! Thou art my lifeline, and I have a real poser of a question for thee…’

‘Yoco! I told thee not to call me on this line!’ quoth Scoot, for he was speaking on a cell phone. ‘Canst thou not see that I am busy doing battle with the Super Squirrel!’

‘No,’ quoth Something.

‘Fuck off,’ quoth Scoot. ‘He hath been training for his rematch in the Hypersquirrelic Time Chamber, and he hath become a Level Two Super Squirrel. Damn! If not for my training with Kungfucius, I wouldst be no match for him— Ow! Fuckin’ Super Squirrel! Here, Nori, catch!’

And Something didst hear in the background:

‘Stomp! And shake that ghetto boot— Ow! Scoot! Thou ass-ramming uncle-fucker!’ cried Nori. ‘And who the bloody hell is this?’

‘ ’Tis I, Something, Nori,’ quoth he, ‘and I think thou’rt the best person to answer my question. What was the name of that Faerie friend of yours, the Politically Correct one?’

‘Is that all?’ quoth Nori. ‘I got smacked over the head with the fuckin’ phone for this? Her name was Fuct, dumbass!’

And Nori didst hang up.

‘Her name was Fuct the Politically Correct Faerie,’ quoth Something, and he didst now feel like a dumbass for not remembering something so simple.

‘Is that thy Final Answer?’ quoth St Peter.

‘Ummmmmmmmm… yes,’ quoth Something.

‘And thou art… correct! Which meaneth thou hast won, Mr Skanky-Bitch!’

‘Well I’ll be damned,’ quoth he.

‘Yes thou art,’ quoth St Peter. ‘And our viewing audience shalt tell thee why…’

‘Sheep Goeth to Heaven, Goats Goeth to Hell!’ cried they.

And St Peter didst pull a lever and it came to pass that the Sacrificial Goat of Hondo didst fall down an impossibly long shaft and didst land in a pile of frozen ashes.

‘What the hell…’ quoth he.

‘Ye guessed it!’ quoth a demon in a pinstriped suit. ‘Welcome to Odnoh Land! Here thou shalt spent all eternity freezing thy pasty white ass off!’

‘There must be some kind of mistake…’ quoth Something, ‘thou see’eth, I am the Sacrificial Goat of Hondo. I am immortal… How hast this happened to me?…’

‘Pardon me a moment,’ quoth the demon, and he didst turn to another man, asking, ‘what is thy problem?’

‘What the hell happened?’ quoth the man. ‘I didst obey all of the Commandments, even the ones which didst contradict each other…’

‘Let me guess…’ And the demon didst take out his cell phone and spoke for a moment, then said unto him, ‘Thou hast died of asphyxiation and ass-phyxiation, right?’

‘Aye,’ quoth he.

‘ ’Tis simple,’ quoth the demon, ‘for ye see, thou didst accidentally sign thy soul to the devil whilst filling out layaway papers at Wal-Mart.’

And the man was dragged away, kicking and screaming.

‘Ye know, Lucifer didst get a lot of souls with that layaway plan. Buy now, pay later…’ quoth the demon, ‘now as for thee, my friend, there have been a lot of paperwork snafus since the God of Stupidity hath taken over. Since thou doth annoy me, thou shalt spend all thy time in the Box whilst we put thy case in the Big Pile Which Doth Never Get Sorted.’

And so Something was dragged away, kicking and screaming, to the Box. For the Box was the one place where the God of Odnoh allowed the heat to still be running full blast.

And Something was kept therein for a great long time.