This little diddy is about how Ms. Howze, the eater of worlds, came to be. So sit back, get some popcorn, soda pop, or a big glass of sperm, and listen up!
This story is suppose to lead up to the events of another story, "How I met your Ms. Howze,"...
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Nevada, the Mojave desert. A large desert teeming with life, but only partly visible. A large truck is driving through the desert, but the contents of the truck are the important part. A large pair of fuzzy testicles are hanging over the mirror in the front seat, and a small Satan bobble-head bouncing above the radio. A large hand reaches for the radio knob and struggles to find a signal, this hand, belongs to Ms. Howze.
Ms. Howze mumbles disgust, she had driven through the Mojave several times now and always seems to have trouble finding her favorite Highway Talk Show.
"Well, ain't this now rank-a-dank, I cant believe my favorite talk show ain't spreading the love of my favorite main squeeze!" Ms. Howze considers herself to be a very religious person, but doesn't seem to grasp the basic understandings of Christianity. "Its okay Big J, its not their fault they aren't spreading the love of our lord and savior!" Ms. Howze beats her chest and makes a peace sign, then almost instantly bumps the glove compartment. "Now where o' where is my favorite big ol' cross?" Ms. Howze pointed all of her focus into the glove compartment, and completely forgot she was driving the truck, soon afterwards she found her necklace. She struggled to put it on over her head, and while this was happening, the truck started to swerve uncontrollably around. "Oh dear oh dear oh dear!" She cried, "What am I going to do!"
The truck swerved off the road into the Mojave desert, then soon after crashed into a giant rock. Ms. Howze, now unconscious, is out in the middle of the Mojave, with no-one around to help.
