The story...

"Quiet, you! Its just about to get good! Now where were we... Oh, Right the pirates!" who...
 
Upon seeing the chaos ensue with the laughing MWEs, the Shaolin monks, and an angry, lumbering Buddha, they decided to wait this one out. Wait it out until.....
 
the laugh poison wore off! They then proceeded to...
 
..denounce religion.. as a predetermined orginization. After all, not only were those ideals silly...
 
but they also lead to rampant pirate vs. ninja fights! Since the pirates had now abandoned their ideals they quickly...
 
but they really didn't fulfil the fiendish and eldritch goals of their ancient masters. After all, preparing the world for imminent consumption by Elder Gods is a full time occupation - and you don't even get dental! So, they decided it would be better to activate the calling-tree. But, lo and behold, first on the "Most Evil Calling-Tree List of Evilest, Nastiest, Mortal-type Thingies Who Don't Work for Disney" (they're in a different union) was NOT **** Cheney BUT...
 
your mother! The pirates were so frightened of the mere prospect of having to talk to your mother that they grabbed the list and...
 
jelly which had been used to sweeten the aforementioned peanutbutter smear turned floor covering. This didn't look good for Buddha, pirates, ninjas or MWEs or any other creature mentioned previously. After all, no one could imagine what would happen next!

(but daddy I just want to go to sleep now)

WHAT??? but the entire climax of the story is just about to happen!!! you can't sleep!! here drink this...

(hands the kid a small cup of double cuppacino/espresso/mocha latte in a starbucks cup which is made from 100% recycled paper which totally makes Buddha happy)

soon the evil trees had made themselves into a bridge to cross the river of lava which was now flowing, the volcano having errupted....
 
only moments ago with a cataclysmic roar.

"I wonder why this kind, defenseless tribe of pot-bellied, pygmy hamsters decided to build their fragile and ecologically sensitive mud-hut village on what is obviously an active volcano?" said our strapping, young heroine who is only now being introduced as our peer-group consultant thinks it'd up the ratings. Looking through her trusty spyglass at the doomed village, she spits over her shoulder to her rag-tag cadre of mischevious adventurers, "Should we place ourselves in peril to save them? Should we risk life and limb and the almost certain loss of one of the lesser and least important member of our troupe at the hands of the violent hands of Mother nature?" Though Ensign Bob in the red shirt looked a touch uncomfortable, they rest unanimously said...
 
don't worry, Bob! You at least have a first name, which gives you a survival probability of at least 0.0000031415926535897932384626433... well, you'll live for a bit at any rate! Go on, then! Definately longer than Ensign...er, you in the redder shirt! Who are you? The hapless red-shirt turned and...
 
said "I'm ~~~~~~ (name gets garbled by a serious speech impediment)"

Well, then... Ensign, would you like to accompany Bob on this treacherous journey which most likely will end in your death for no other reason than filling a few minutes of the show and showing blood to all of those geeks who think it's cool? Yes? Alright then! Whoever comes back alive gets a promotion!

As Bob and the Ensign headed down...
 
the hill towards the potpygmybelliedhamstirred village. The faces of the little furry creatures were obviously stricken with terror as the oozing sludge of liquid fire began to approach the outskirts of the village. Bob yelled as he leapt for a low hanging limb on a nearby tree which began to snap and creak as he leaned down to scoop the little furry beggars into his hands and shove them into the pockets of his pants. Ensign reddershirt screamed that he would attempt to dig a trench for the lava to flow around the village in case the escape plan didn't work. Bob couldn't help but snicker as the furry potbellied buggers shimmied in his britches....
 
...But it was no time for snickering! Bob stood in terror as Ensign was engulfed in flames. The only thought that could come to Bob's mind was "wow I’m glad I have a first name!" He then grabbed the rest of the pigmy-furballs and ran towards the recently introduced hero, but before he made it to the party he...
 
tripped on the charred carcass of his nameless friend The Ensign. Furballs flew in all directions - the lucky ones. Others were still caught in his pants pockets as he landed heavily on the ground. The slightly went and crunching sound he heard when he landed told him that....
 
something had gone horribly wrong. He was the comic relief. Sanderson was the plucky heroine. The Ensign was the meaningful sacrifice who fostered feelings of revenge and hope in hearts and minds. But, he wasn't supposed to die around anyone, he wasn't supposed to die - like this, it was supposed to be easy and--antiseptic.

Bob got to his feet and looked down at the startlingly real corpse and shuddered. What was going on? How could this happen? Hamsters in little tiki head-dresses and grass skirts scuttered out of his pockets and into the trees wailing to eachother in high-pitched chitters. As he stared down at the ensign something behind him, ...
 
hurled a bohemian earspoon directly at his head, missing, but parting his hair in an unfortunate manner. The Ensign turned to see ...
 
a young dark haired girl with pigtails in a baby blue checked jumper dress with a petticoat and sparkling red mary jane shoes with a winning set of white bobby socks. In her arms was a picnic basket and a small black terrier poked its head out and get a shrill barking YAP at him. He'd been caught slipping in the crusty pile that was once his co-worker. He blushed. The small furballs were squeeling at him franticly as he was still in danger of the falling ash. He went to take a step when suddenly...
 
He realized that he had seen this show before! Maybe he's in a warp bubble and slightly out of phase because it was way back in the fourties when......
 
a giant, uh, Sasquatch wearing a gilly suit jumped up from the underbrush and unleashed lead fury! His mini-gun sprayed the landscape as he screamed, "Die Tourist scum!" And THEN...

"Boo! Hiss!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"DAAAD!" the eight year old rolled his eyes and stuck out his lower lip. "This story makes no sense. If I wanted neo-surrealist fantasy I'd go to the Magritte exhibit, or watch Fox News. This bedtime story blows big time! What happened to the squirrels? And the pirates? Where's the continuity? Where's the story arc?!"

"But, I thought you liked Bigfoot. You made such a fuss about last year's Halloween costume."

"Dad! I was a Chewbacca! Duh! I can't believe you're so lame!" The boy threw the covers over his head in a great huff, his head shaking sadly under Darth Vader in his "Empire Strikes Back" comforter. He sighed with all the angst a second-grader can muster.

"Alright, alright. I didn't forget the squirrels. In fact, I was just getting back to them." The wee brat poked one eye out from under the sheet as his dad continued to speak. "You see, they were all connected, they all...
 
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