Something Random to Satisfy You With

Chapter 14: It Took Them Six Hours

Now, normally this would have been acceptable during the Middle Ages, or even during the Renaissance when all the idiots were just learning, when complex mathematics that guided travellers usually had a few mistakes thrown in but in our day and age of GPS this was not acceptable. Let me explain how everything was the way it was.

When Hershey’s car was implanted on the road, the Cilcinny Town Council called for a bomb squad to safely remove her car and tow it off to a scrap yard. Unfortunately, the bomb squad brought in a lot of people that disturbed traffic. No one could drive anywhere without bumping into a person from the bomb squad. So a lot of people just got out of their cars and walked on the sidewalk. The rest of the people stayed in their cars. The Town Council tried making things better by passing a law saying that it was illegal to walk on the sidewalk until the problem was solved. But people just went indoors.

This was a problem, and the only way it could be made comparable, would be if after a late night dinner of corn-on-the-cob, you couldn’t be bothered to throw the leftovers away, so you decide to stuff it all down the drain. You think this is going to be a once off thing, but the next day it is beans and rice, and Mr. Wasteful decides to do the same thing again because you’re ‘too full’. Soon you take full delight in stuffing down edible material down your water carrier, without taking into account what a sick, psychotic, intolerably cruel monster you are. Then the Day of Judgement occurs. Your pipe bursts and you’re left in third world conditions for a couple of hours. Then, just as it seems things can’t get any worse than this, they do. You find out your best friend is a pathological liar and that all the advice on how to cheat on your income tax reforms has been faulty, you find out your daughter has married a ferret in order to get back at you for all those years of you consistently sending her up to her room, and a full-scale alien invasion of Earth happens all because you dialled the wrong number. Don’t look so surprised; everyone’s out to get you. This was the type of situation that was occurring on the streets of Cilcinny right now.

This was the point where Hershey, Reuben, Scott, and Aaron came in. Little, by little, hour by hour, they edged their way to city hall to try and cast their vote. While at first it was absolutely brutal for Aaron, it was paradise for the rest of the group. But after staying in Eric’s secret room for an hour and partying until they were purple, things started to go wrong for no good reason. The Jacuzzi exploded. The lock on the mini-bar kept changing combinations. The snack machine demanded way too much money for such little taste. The disco ball was captured by an evil megalomaniac who was going to use it for world domination. The foot spa was stolen by a deranged bargain hunter from Argentina. Even the miniature golf course got messed up, changing terrain, switching the grass with sand, and moving holes. In the end, everyone got out and crammed themselves in the front.

It wasn’t easy, trying to cope with these conditions. For example, there was that wrong turn that Aaron made, costing them two hours of time. But there were good times during that stressful event, like when everyone was on the brink of starvation for not eating in five hours, then Scott remembered something, and soon they were saved by the six pack chicken combo and fries, which proved that Tastes Like Chicken isn’t evil after all.

Now where did we leave Alan and Charlie off? Oh yes, they were hanging on a speedy motorcycle in their underwear, being chased by a psychopathic Mexican franchise owner and the FBI, while being sprayed with hot sauce by that same psychopath. They had just finished listening to the entire story explaining where exactly they went wrong, in just three seconds. It may have seemed longer, but that’s because people were busy overanalyzing it.

“Oh, so that’s where we went wrong.” Alan realized, nodding his head in understanding.

“Hey, Alan, how does Sam U. Rye get away with being such a homicidal maniac?” Charlie asked.