Tuesday, May 4, 2004

The
Good Evening to you, my fellow reader! Today is none other than Tuesday, when the new phone book arrives! I can't wait to look through it, and see how many number combinations are used!

But, wait! It's not just any Tuesday, is it? No, it's an extra-special day today! What day is it, you ask? Why, it's...

THE FOURTH...

OF...

MAY!!!

*Audience goes berzerk with excitement*

Yes, 'tis the good ol' Annual Fourth of May bash! This is the only holiday that the government refuses to look upon as one, because the PEOPLE created it, not some lowlife fat-cat greeting card company. Man, I friggin' LOVE this holiday! Presents, violence and booze, that's the true meaning of the Fourth of May!

But, lo, there are some who doubt us "Fourth-of-May'ers". They don't know the story behind this great holiday. Well, let me tell you kids how this holiday came to be.

About 130 years ago, during the big Soda Prohibition, a young man named Fritz McLullin worked at a local speak-easy, where illegal Mr. Pibb was always on tap. Customers from all over the country would come there, to partake of the caffienated goodness that was Minute Maid Orange Soda. Both life and buisness were good for ol' Fritz.

Then, one day, the police found out. At around midnight, when the speak-easy was at it's busiest, a swarm of pigs, armed to the teeth with Gatling guns and Rocket launchers, stormed into the place shooting holes into anything that got in their way, living or otherwise. Fifteen minutes after they left, Fritz arose from the table he hid under. Everyone in the place was either dead, or dying a slow, agonyzing death.

Fritz's rage then grew to climactic proportions. He new what he had to do. He packed thousands of shells of buckshot into a sachel, grabbed his rifel, and headed for the white house. When he arrived, the pigs were waiting for him. They ran at him, attempting to stop him from entering the White House. They were met with hot lead and fury. He blasted pig after pig, until he arrived in the oval office.

There he was, behind a desk. The mastermind behind the Soda Prohibition. Franklin Delanore Rosevelt.

"Rosevelt! This ends now! End the Soda Prohibition, or meet the same fate as your minions!", Fritz yelled.

FDR looked young Fritz over. "Foo, hoo, hoo. You are a strong one, you are. Getting through my elite guard. Unfortunately, I am not as feebile as you think!" he said.

FDR pressed a button on his wheelchair. The wheelchair expanded, then encased FDR's entire body in solid steel armor. He pulled out his presidential flamethrower.

"Now, young one, you will PARISH, along with any hope of the Soda Prohibition ending!", FDR cackled.

"Never! An entire country's dreams rest on my shoulders! I'll not let them down!", Frtiz said.

Fritz and FRD fought for all of one hour, in a bloody, grotesque superbattle. Finally, having been pierced in the heart by a ninja throwing star, FDR keeled over and died. Fritz assumed power, and ended the Soda Prohibition, and restored peace in America.

And that man turned out to be Ronald Regan.

...And that's the reason we celebrate this great holiday! Is there any particular reason why YOU, the reader, celebrate?

Yep, that's all you get. It's a holiday, what do you want? Have a good-ass Fourth of May, everyone!

-Flint
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