Monday, December 8, 2008

So I'm headin out to the store to get some popcorn when a snowstorm hits town an freezes me in a block a ice. A coupla thousand years later I get thawed out by some friendly sciencebots diggin through the arctic tundra who label me an ship me to my new home at the Franklin D. Schwarzenegger Museum of Disposable History where I dazzle and amaze the children of tomorrow with the edutaining puppet shows of yesterday.

"And that's how Jesus wrote the Constitution," says me.
"Tell us more tales of your savage time!" says one a the disembodied floatin brains.
"Well back in the ol days we didn't have your fancy Senatrons and Congressbots," says me. "We hadda pick our presidents the ol fashioned way, with a money-eating contest. The first candidate to swallow half a billion dollars without throwin up would be King of all Florida!"
"Intriguing!" says the second brain. "Now battle Clone Lincoln... to the death!"
"Raaarrrrr!" says Clone Lincoln.

The exhibit closes after a coupla weeks. The curator brain says they might do another one where I narrate scenes from World War Four where Allied leaders oil up and wrestle crocodiles if they can get enough grant money together. In the meantime I get shipped off to a living history museum in New Texylvania where I portray Agnes, a hardscrabble milk maid workin her way across the historic American frontier.

"It used to take six whole hours to churn just one pail a butter," says me churnin some pretend butter.
"Raaarrrrr!" says Buzz Aldrin crashin through the door.
"Oh no, moon rabies, a ubiquitous hazard of the historic American frontier!" says me. We battle to the death.

Everything seems to be goin okay til the FBI raid. It turns out butter is now classified as a Schedule I narcotic and I am under arrest on eighteen counts of racketeering, possession with intent to distribute and de-assaulting a police assaulter. I escape in the middle of the night with the help of an unfrozen caveman, an animatronic dinosaur and the robotic head of Alexander Hamilton. We make our way across the countryside disguised as a band of wandering minstrels til I find my way home.

"Did you get the popcorn?" says Giblets.
"Nah it got all snowy," says me.
"You are useless like the buffalo!" says Giblets.

So I'm headin back out to the store when an unseasonable monsoon hits an buries half the town in a mudslide. I am discovered ten thousand years later by a group a golden-helmed god-kings riding horses of flame.

"Welcome, Fafnir, to the Age of Wonders!" says the god-kings.
"Stupid age of wonders," says me.

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posted by fafnir at 10:11 AM
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