The evening begin in China itself. The communist soldier Ming Lao Hsien had just ordered fried cat to feed his minions at his temple. We were tagging the Great Wall like it was Lowell . When suddenly Ming was killed by a flaming piece of a white van that just exploded down the street. At his funeral we saw it. The Jade Elephant. He was giving the eulogy at Ming's funeral. After several minutes of silence we took the Bat Jet to Massachusetts. Upon landing we discovered that Michael Kennedy died skiing. Thus the Cold War ended.
Several hours had passed and we arrived in the city of Quincy. We were overcome the arctic air and I almost lost my left nut. After realizing that the Jewish mob had a hit on us we quick ly made our way to Boston, one step ahead of the Hebrew antagonists. One the train to Down Town Crossings several youths caught fire from smoking on the train. They jumped out the window only to hit the mysterious third rail. Then the all-knowing Poobah told us that he would pay us ten dollars to scratch his back.
After making some quick cash we arrived in Boston. We were greeted by many Canadians and the ghost of Michael Kennedy. They gave us a glimpse of our future and noisemakers. Michael Kennedy informed us he thought some girls on the street looked cute. The girls appeared to be 13 to 14 years in age. We took our flame-throwers and the ghost was no more.
It was a mad scene in Boston Common. First there were strange Milton youth there besides us two. Drunken men were vomiting confetti all over the Canadians. Suddenly a strange blue light filled the sky and descended upon the ice sculptures. They came alive like butter and began devouring everyone regardless of age, sex, race, or religion. It was an equal opportunity nightmare. We quickly made our way back to Park Street with a group of Keebler Elves (who were secretly manufacturing biological weapons, but that's a different story). Several right turns later we were back in Park Street. The Jade Elephant and his roving gangs of ghetto youth were attacking everyone who appeared to be under ten years old. We slowly approached him from behind and blew our noisemakers in his ears. His head exploded like butter. We only then realized it was a costume. There was no Jade Elephant. It was Scott Zolak.
He folded us up into footballs and threw us at the Prime Minister of Australia. We walked the streets using our new robotic legs we purchased at K-Mart. I accidentally stepped on a midget which turned out to be Yoda from the planet Dagobah. His bodyguards were Kevin Costner from Waterworld and Kevin Costner from The Postman. Mr. Potato head slayed both Costner's with his rapier.
After fleeing the area stained by the blood of the bad actor, we arrived at the secret temple of the Anti-Christ. Him and his Goth followers were chasing the Bananas in Pajamas down the Common. Many of the cult followers were killed by pieces of an exploding pair of white vans. The cult suddenly realized they sucked and were killed by the ice sculptures.
We arrived at a place of many drunken people that was not Ireland or Budapest. We saw Heather Kahn and heard her talking about how Skeet Ulrich and his Fourth Reich had taken control of the Prudential. They began blowing up white vans left and right. When the police finally captured him and his militant radicalist party they deported them to Guam.
Then we slipped into a time portal where we became fat old men with no teeth. We were surrounded by cucumbers and strange customers chanting phrases such as "59 cent" and "quedit card, quedit card". We both became bored of the parallel universe and escaped by eating ice cream sandwiches.
The 11th hour was approaching like butter. We were very cold. It was because we had no clothes on. Wink wink. Luckily there was a 24-hour Maurice the Pantsman open. We purchased the latest in Versace and ADIDAS gear. Don't get me wrong though I am still glad Michael Kennedy died. Suddenly we warped to 12:03 and headed back to Park Street station to get home. On the way spotted Andrew Cunanann. He vanished into a thick green mist. We got on the train only to see ourselves in the windows. Marveled by our dashing, pretty boy looks we didn't notice the Black Ninja Clan get aboard at Down Town Crossings. They didn't read the warning and when the got off at Butler they all got caught in the crack between the train and the platform and all died. Back in Milton we strolled the streets like we had some kind of problem. A few crazy drivers beeped at us feebly. We received cold remarks from rude people. Not the hero welcome we expected from our hometown. Especially on Joe Day. We played our noisemakers like butter but still the Miltonites taunted us. Most of the town appeared to be in a coma-like state. What a sad state of affairs.
We arrived at Joe's house at 1:15. It was 1998 and we reminisced about the past years events. Then we woke up and realized we had too much time on our hands. This story is dedicated to: Jim (for putting up with our crap) , Chris (for being part of our crap), Jeff Barrett (because), Luke (for giving us a ride), Ryan (for punching me at CAMPS) , Lauren (for hating me), Karen (for living to far away), Jen and MaryBeth (for giving us time to write this today), Courtney (gone but not forgotten), KoRn (because no one else likes them), Sal (we love you), Hey Dave (we love you too Luke ), Matt (for complaining too much), Lynne (for keeping Bill busy), Kholliston (our sister town) and youth group (we love you all).
If you feel the need to destroy more brain cells go back here