Ron lifted the Oreo Cookie up to the
household god Nabisco. He knew that it
was his best chance to win the heart of Ann-Jemima, the one woman in all of
Wal-Mart Proper who had captured his heart of hearts.
“O thou great and creamy Nabisco, god of
love and all things sweet: please
capture for me the heart of Ann-Jemima,” Ron said prayerfully.
Suddenly the Oreo crumbled into a
million pieces without any cream filling to be seen anywhere. Was this an omen of goodness? Had he captured the god’s divine favor?
Ron looked and saw a shadow move across
the wall.
“What in the name of beta-carotene?”
Moving across the wall was a rather
reddish looking Tribble. Now Ron was
clearly confused. The missing cream from
the Oreo portended something good and foreshadowed the coming of good
fortune. But this Tribble? What was the significance of the
Tribble?
“Gotcha,” grunted Ron as he grabbed the
Tribble. He moved the Tribble around in
his hands uncertain what to do with it, or what he was actually looking
for? Then he saw something on seeming
importance. In the fur of the Tribble it
appeared to clearly say with white fur against the red: “Keep Calm and Live
Long and Prosper!”
Ron let out a whoop of adulation. “Praise Nabisco!”
Surely the god had looked down on Ron
with extreme and bountiful favor. Now Ann-Jemima
would surely feel the same about him as he did for her.
Ron punched in Ann-Jemina’s number on
his cell phone. Voicemail! Ron started to grow perturbed and vexed
within himself. Seriously, he thought to himself, does no one answer their cell phone anymore? He had a thought. “Guess I’ll just send her a text then,” he
whispered to himself.
Within a few minutes his cell phone
vibrated. He looked at his cell
phone. His cell phone’s screen read:
“Message failed to send.”
He was about to press resend when the
doorbell rang. Ron ran to the door and
opened it.
Two men dressed in white shirts and
black ties were standing outside his door.
“Hello kind sir,” began one of the two
men. “We represent the Cult of the
Flying Spaghetti Monster. We would love
to discuss the virtues of becoming the willful servants of the Flying Spaghetti
Monster. Please, allow us to demonstrate
the mutual benefits of becoming the meatball."
Ron slammed the door in their face as he
muttered, “I don’t have time for this crap.”
Once more he tried to press resend text
but now his landline started to ring.
“Hello,” Ron answered as he picked up
the receiver.
“Excuse me, sir, but have you ever
considered pre-need funeral services?”
“No,” Ron bellowed as he slammed down
the phone.
Finally he was able to press resend
text. BINGO!
Ann-Jemima held the ceremonial Tampon
over Ron’s head as Ron grasped her arm with his hand. Since time in memoriam this had been the way
in which two lovers would manifest their mutual affection towards each
other. The ceremonial Tampon was the
symbol of granting the male the key to the female’s femininity and
sexuality. By grasping the arm the male
was pantomiming his uniting and bonding himself to the female.
“Only one thing is needed to complete
the ceremony,” said Ann-Jemima with resolution.
“Yes, my radiant Skittle?”
“We need the ceremonial syrup,” she said
dreamily.
“But my fair Skittle, where will I find
this ceremonial syrup?”
“In the breakfast aisle. Aisle number four, sir.”
Ron blinked. And then said slowly, “Excuse me?”
“Sir, you’ll find syrup in aisle number
four.”
“Umm…I don’t need any syrup.”
“Well what do you need? Maybe I can help you find it.”
Ron looked around he was at the Wal-Mart
Superstore. What had he come to Wal-Mart
for? He opened his right hand and saw a
crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded the
paper carefully. It read: “Don’t forget
to pick up the new Ann-Jemima CD “SHOUTING PANCAKES!!!”
“Doh!”
“I’m sorry sir, did you need help
finding cookie dough,” asked a bewildered Wal-Mart Clerk.
“No, I need to find the Music section.”
“Oh, that’s over in aisle seven next to
the video games.”
“Th-thanks,” said Ron as he rushed over
to aisle seven.
As he reached Aisle seven he opened his
other hand and noticed a bottle of pills.
"That’s it no more of these stupid Dream Maker Pills," Ron
muttered to himself. He tossed the bottle of pills on the floor and
then went to look for the SHOUTING PANCAKES CD.
