From: "Rev. Magdalen" <magdalen@subgenius. com>
Date: Wed, Jul 6, 2005 3:42 PM
This year X-Day had the lucky fortune to have a quorum
of Bachelors for
"Bob", enabling them to exude their own personal
brand of impeccably
well-dressed Slack, augmented by the addition of the
Littlest Bachelor,
L'il Reverend Alex, who is now all growed up and eighteen
years old!
The Bachelors created an elaborate Gitmo-themed camp,
complete with a
surrounding fence of six-foot-high black plastic chicken
wire, which
was completely invisible at night, leading to many humorous
incidents.
But they did not stop there! Boss Dynamo was all "Bobbed"
up and
determined to perform a ritual of zombification, intending
to destroy
the Church of the SubGenius and resurrect it in a fiery
zombie form,
purged of the dross and phlegm that had collected on
its shining face
in the many years since its last destruction and rebirth.
In true Slack fashion, the plan for this zombification
was modeled on
that of the Underpants Gnomes:
Phase 1 - Dress in badass droog outfits.
Phase 2 - ?
Phase 3 - Fiery zombie resurrection!
So after dressing, the Bachelors consulted Chris Lee,
a well-known
master of all dark arts, who said, "To make a zombie,
use rum and a
pinch of cumin." Oh had they only heeded the part
about the cumin!!
They ignored it to their peril. They also consulted
some pagan guy who
revealed that you need to perform your zombification
ritual in the dead
of night, and at dawn your zombie creation will arise.
Using the scientific principles of sympathetic magic,
the Bachelors
passed their fabulous Marlboro Straw Hat around all
the campground,
inviting all SubGenii to add something to it that symbolized
the Church
to them. Some added secret and profound items, others
picked up trash
lying at their feet. As the sacred ritual of Passing
the Hat made its
way through the grounds, Pope Perro and the Pancake
Bunny were added to
the mix, drops of swamp water and pool water, the flag
from the dummy
""Bob's"" impaled head, some stuff
Philo Drummond found in his pockets,
and even an item that had touched the sacred lips of
Suzie the Floozie
herself! Truly it was a potent mixture, and perhaps
they went too far
when they walked with it widdershins around the burned
out pit of the
secret pagan ritual fire back in alt.slack woods. Yes,
friends, maybe
it was the widdershins that did it.
At long last the hat was full and the Bachelors returned
with it to
their Gitmo camp for the ritual burning. Phloighd provided
the rum,
and all participants spat brilliant, splattering streams
on the sacred
burning remnants of the Church and said a few timely
words of parting
as the hat and its contents were rendered into ash.
Now all that remained was to wait until dawn for the
zombie fire church
to arise from the ashes. SubGenii were drawn to the
camp like flies to
the rotting corpse of an elk, and a raging, rock and
roll, kickass
party began. It would be impossible to describe in
detail the true
Dobbsian nature of this party, which was graced by many
great SubGenii
as they made their wandering ways through Brushwood,
pursuing their
noctournal delights.
As the party was in full swing, with may singing along
to the immortal
strains of Ween, Prrostata Cantata marched into the
camp in his
underpants and shut off the radio. He turned on his
heel to face the
assembled masses and announced that he wanted to sleep
and therefore
the party was over. A long, long second followed while
the gathered
faithful stared in slackjawed consternation, waiting
for the punchline.
And Prrostata did not disappoint, adding in true deadpan
style:
"Unless you get me so drunk I don't care about
sleep."
After everyone had a good laugh Rev. 808 handed Prrostata
a bottle of
rum with about four inches left in it. Satisfied, Prrostata
sat down
and began a lovely conversation with Suzie the Floozie,
steadily
drinking his way through the bottle and partying with
the Bachelors for
a good two hours, before being graciously escorted through
the maze of
Gitmo fencing back to his tent by Mr. Morocco.
Soon after, Boss Dynamo called everyone's attention
to the fact that
there was a faint glow in the eastern sky. You can
imagine the
excitement and anticipation in the hearts of those with
true Faith in
"Bob" as they eagerly awaited the resurrection
of the fiery zombie
church, purified and reborn with the shining Dobbsian
nature exposed in
all its blinding glory! To commemorate the moment and
to pass the time
until true dawn, the Bachelors put on that classic Ween
song, "Piss up
a Rope", and everyone sang along heartily.
Halfway through the song, Mein Cock spoke up and said,
"How will we
know exactly when dawn comes, since we can't see the
horizon through
the trees? Will there be some sign that the zombie
fire church has
arisen?"
At that EXACT MOMENT, dear friends, Prrostata Cantata
returned to the
camp, CHANGED, oh how horribly changed, by the dark
forces that had
been awakened that night. Possessed by the spirit of
the Zombie Church
Resurrected, he was no longer capable of humanoid speech
or action, but
rushed like a wild ape-man into the midst of the party.
Charged with
power beyond human reckoning, he brought his mighty
fist down onto the
Bachelors' radio, again and again, ending the chorus
of "Piss up a
Rope" with the unmistakable sound of expensive
electronic equipment
cracking and breaking in an orgy of destruction. He
swept the entire
table clean to the ground with a shattering of crockery
that resounded
through the foggy dawn, echoing up and down the hills
of Brushwood, no
doubt causing the Amish to shiver uneasily in their
sleep, as if
brushed lightly with the hand of some undead THING passing
in the
night.
I jumped to my feet and at once began to loudly remonstrate
with the
Zombie Prrostata, much to my regret. For at that moment,
other zombies
lurched from their tents and began to emerge into that
cold, cold dawn.
The short silence of astonishment that followed the
breaking of the
radio and my impulsive, ill-fated attempt to reason
with zombie powers
beyond all control, was shattered as Zombie Lynx emerged
from her tent
and shouted "CUUUUNT!!!" in a long, furious
tone of such ringing zombie
purity that all were struck dumb. Motionless we stood
as she announced
her intention to beat me to a pulp.
On fire with zombie madness, Zombie Lynx ran at me with
the speed of a
hundred angry undead, fist cocked back and a gleam of
pure, unsullied
hate in her eye. She ran at me like an unstoppable
juggernaut of rage,
and I was powerless to move, struck to the heart with
terror in the
face of what the Bachelors had unleashed. If there
had not been that
invisible fence of black chicken wire surrounding the
Gitmo camp, I
would surely be dead. As it was, Zombie Lynx was forced
to check her
speed and detour to the gate, giving the Bachelors enough
time to
gallantly spring to their feet and interpose their very
bodies before
her, willingly facing her awesome zombie wrath. Words
cannot express
the gratitude I feel to them for saving my life that
day.
What followed next is a confused jumble of shouting,
jostling,
screaming and tears that even now I cannot place in
any kind of
chronological order. The only clear memory I have is
of shouting
lustily, "This is X-DAY!! You can do WHATEVER
YOU WANT!!" to which the
Zombies answered, "NO, you CAN'T!!"
Eventually as that fateful sun rose ever higher into
the sky the zombie
spirit began to dissipate and diffuse throughout the
camp, draining
away from those it had originally found focus in. After
a period of
time I had the presence of mind to escort the Bachelors
for "Bob" to
the Hierarchy Trailer, where they could be locked behind
doors that
have stood the test of many a zombie mob in X-Days past.
There, safe
for the time being from the anger of their creations,
they fully rued
the fact that they had neglected the cumin in their
zombie recipe.
But as that zombie sun shone down upon the camp, casting
a glistening
light on the destruction and rubble of Camp Gitmo, and
on the cherubic
faces of the chastened Bachelors in their restless sleep,
I walked that
ground and saw that despite the lack of cumin, the spark
of the true
Church of the SubGenius had indeed been reborn, vital
and renewed,
possibly flawed with swamp madness, but more alive and
full of "Bob"
than before that dreadful ritual touched on Matters
that Man was Not
Meant to Know.
Viva Pope Perro!
-- Reverend Mary Magdalen, Cunt
Original file name: X-DAY SUPPLEMENTAL REPORT#99D4B - converted on Monday, 18 July 2005, 17:18
This page was created using TextToHTML. TextToHTML is a free software for Macintosh and is (c) 1995,1996 by Kris Coppieters