AND BOUNCING TOMMY CRUISE CLONES
RALPH BRINGS DOWN THE WRATH OF
BOUNCING TOM SMOOZE CLONES AND MAD DONNA (the mutt with the head of MadDonna, a surgery she underwent while on a 'doggie style' kick) AND ASSFACE KURCHER ...
Thus Spoke the God Ralph: "I am sure that you have heard of De-proggraming, Muggily, where a cult member is taken to a hotel and fed big mac's and forced to watch soap operas and Jim Varney films until they are as normal as the rest of you humans? Well, why doesn't anyone do this with, say, the Mormon's? Or Seventh Day Adventist? I mean, you could even show these Catholic priests a little hetero porno and maybe save some little arse's from being sluiced with jesus juice? But no, being human's, you pick on the week ones, the wimpy moonies with their man dresses and shit. There is a psycho sexual side to that which would blow your human mind were I to explain it."
"Really?"
"No, but that sounds good, doesn't it? Use it somewhere else in my scriptures, okay?"
"I'll make a note."
"I'll need your help snatching enough people to make this effort worth my while."
This was the kind of moment Mugily dreaded... everyone had warned him to be careful when trying to dissuade the god from one of his nefarious whims, and he had already spent a day as a terd after complaining about the cat smell. "Uh, Ralph, I don't think that is a good idea. The Cult Awareness network got sued by the scientologist for shit like that... and wait a minute, isn't the mormon god a little stronger than you?"
"Man, you don't know shit, do you? That's one of those made up religions. That's why I can smite them."
"Like the Jehovoa Witnesses?"
"No, they have a god, he's just too into coke and vaigra to give much of a shit at this point. Like Buddha."
"I was an atheist until I turned 18 and we had the Shumbagogo. I never would have believed in any god, let alone you. The more I get to know you the better off I think I was."
"Careful, Mugily, as a god, I think of killing you as only slightly more serious than swatting a mosquito... slightly, ever so slightly. So, scribe, just listen to me... a couple days ago I decided that it was high time to start deproggramming some christians. I thought and thought and thought about things that can radically change someones life; something they could convert to instead of their silly myths; something that would hook them, like religion did... finally it came to me -- I'd make them crack addicts. I figured, once I got them addicted to crack they would have to steal and prostitute themselves to support their habits, which would cause their moral compasses to shift all over the place, eventually shattering their lying paradigms and breaking them out of their little 'Denny's Prayer Brunches Mania.'"
"Man, you really hate Brunches."
"Let no man say other.... they really are soul killers, those brunches. You throw in backgammon and you are on your way to the hell realms, boy. Here's my plan for deprogramming thee twirps, okay? I started with two mormon kids, a scientologist, and a kabbalah -nut... the mormons were the first, because they were riding along the street, so I took this van and ran them over, breaking enough bones to make them easy to push around and get in the van and all. I then drove them to a crack house, and had them shot up with herion, making their pains all go away. Now, I have them on a constant diet of porno and south park, and they seem to be responding well, going from having gag reflexes and shaking their heads to laughing maniacally and masterbating with impunity. The others are coming along nicely, too."
"What do you mean, you . . . started?"
"Yea, I went back in time, just now.... and started this last tuesday. After their bones have healed in horribly mangled ways, they will be in pain for the rest of their lives and thus horribly messed up on pain drugs and as ready to hate god as some... I don't know, wombats, I guess... they are the real hardcore athiests of the animal kingdom, of course."
"Really?"
"Mugily, you will believe anything, man.?"
"Where are these Mormon's and what did you say... scientilogists and kabbala-nuts... that you're experimenting on, exactly."
"Oh, I took them to this place I know across state, so you wouldn't get up your bretheren and start meddling, like you did when I was growing tha Mau Wai."
"You almost got us all arrested."
"Like I would let that happen."
"We never know with you, Ralph. Sometimes you are right there with what color to paint the car, and the next day you can't be bothered to save the dog's life."
"I have never let one of your dog's die un-naturally."
"Just the humans?"
"There are too many of you, Muguily, by the reports of your own damn scientists. Next I am going after a catholic preist. I will attempt to change his sexuality, and if that works, break their Bingo addictions."
"I think you should just go to a movie or something."
"Too late. Just write shit down and enjoy the ride that is Ralph, okay? Got the nachos and weed?"
"Is that all you ever consume?"
"Yes." "
Mugily sat down in the cat scratched black leather coach that had been so pristine when he bought it a year before and had been totally trashed after just six days with Raph's unruly, spoiled felines. The room was beginning to smell from the litter again. He was having to change it almost everyday to keep up the illusion that the place did not smell of cat, like he secretly suspected and was indeed correct about, though he would never know because his friends and relatives were just too damn polite to tell him -- not to mention, they all kind of felt for the scribe in Ralph's life.
Scribe's often came to bad ends, a miracle gone awry -- once only half of a scribe showed up in Puerto Rico for their annual Smiggly Soo Pen reunion... the other half of the poor man never was found. While Ralph could easily have fixed such errors, he sometimes simply was not 'in the mood,' and there was no reasoning with him at such times. He was a creature used to playing with his moods, trying to keep what he often referred to as, "The Big Chronic."
"Hey, I don't see you going out to the kitchen to make me an offering of Nachos?"
"Can't you just conjour these things up?"
"You know, I'll bet no one makes Jesus get his own nachos."
"Can you introduce me to some of these other gods?"
"What, you shopping around now?"
"No..."
"I was kidding, but you are only partically so... Sometimes reading your mind makes me fucking sick. Oh, don't go there even in your.... now your just thinking nachos, in cheese sauce, trying to throw me... oh, chili and cheese. I think you need to go down to the Tex Mex Chix and get some of those Beaver Meat Cheese Nacho Supremes and I'll ... bless you, or some damn thing. Verily, verily, I say -- goeth in search of Nachos... but first, get something to poke the resin out of my bong and change the beer in there. Verily, verily, I have spoken... whoo, whoo, whoo."
"That used to make your preist's shiver?"
"No, shit. It was funny, man, so... you are not scared enough of me, you know? That will probably lead to my accidently killing you. Well, half accidently killing you. Oh, I'll see it coming a few days before hand, and I'll think about changing time, tell myself I should... then, it'll be too late and I'll content myself with a new cleric."
"Uh, okay... really?"
"Sure."
"Did you reall get the munchies and turn a scribe into Taffy and eat him?"
"Now... I can change anything into Taffy, at any time... why the hell would I waste a scribe?"
"I just wondered."
"Is that in the scripture somewhere?"
"I don't think..."
"A lot of that shit, I was way too drunk to remember much... you know, how you get all serious and meloncholy sometimes... well, when you're a god, you get like this, then you get to exaggerating, as gods do... next thing you know, you've got the book of revelations. Yea, that was me. The christians pretty much took whatever they found, drew a smily jesus face on it and called it their own, you know?"
"