Lots42 drags a literal soapbox out of the darkness. A spotlight crackles
on. Lots42 stands on the soapbox, which instanly collapses for it was
thirty-seven years old and rotten through and through. Someone in a ten
gallon hat brings a large red chair onto the stage. Someone else in a pink
dress rolls out a chalkboard with a picture taped onto it. At first, it
looks like Fonzie the Bear hadn't shaved for ten years, but a second look
shows an excited doggy looking to the left. Lots42 pushes the red chair over and it collapses through the stage. There is a scream. "Ahem!" said the man, apparently reading from a teleprompter only he could see. "I'm encouraging people to look up the adventures of 'Lassie' using the Search Engine and continue her adventures. She's a loyal companion to the brain-addle Stacy. She's a small dog and is in fact the, for lack of a better phrase, author avatar of my dog Eddie. Eddie himself doesn't have long to go now. He's sleeping peacefully in the other room, can barely walk and we honestly don't expect him to survive the night. So, in honor of how he's been in my arms as I've written a trillion of these damned NEQ and Horsehockey episodes, go continue a Lassie adventure. Or start one of her own. Remember, not the collie that kept rescuing that dumbass Timmie, a mutt who looks like a Roomba collided with a barber shop hair waste bag and then there was caffiene involved somehow. In conclusion, I'm serious about Eddie and I ate all the Oreos in the break room. Go to hell, I deserve it." The shotlight is destroyed by a sniper, flames shoot up from the hole in the ground and a Klingon style transported effect takes Lots42 himself.
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4/25/2011 12:05:22 AM
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