I was asked to interpret this picture without context for a writing class recently. I recommend that you study it for a minute or so before you read on.
So here's what I think is going on:
Some years had passed since
humanity, in a last-ditch offensive coup against the dreaded Hay Fever People
of the Fourth Apocalypse, rose from their only remaining bastion in a whirlwind
of antihistamines and Kleenex to win back the Earth. All was well until
it was discovered that some vestiges of the enemy still clung to life.
Symptoms reminiscent of the last struggle began to manifest themselves; itchy,
watery eyes, sinus pressure, and hard boogers that hurt started to proliferate
with alarming speed. The growing dread of anarchy threatened to drive up
the price of NyQuil to market-busting proportions.
In the nick of time, science and a
good bit of dumb luck revealed the answer: The human immune system was
lethal to the Hay Fever People, and could be weaponized. Unfortunately
the delivery systems for the dispersal weapons were made in China, and when the
shipping containers got hung up in customs it became clear that drastic methods
would have to be taken. It wasn't pretty, but it appeared that the only
remaining option was to flick freshly-picked nose-goblins directly into the
faces of the enemy.
Modeling herself after Anita Tzissue
(a legendary folk hero), Omminoff Lickem Ania (or just "Ania" in more
colloquial situations) vowed to follow her destiny and curb the onset of
another uprising. She had a very fine, and dangerous line to walk.
Protecting herself enough to stay alive while allowing just enough bits of
sinus-irritating motes of red schmutz emitted by the Hay Fever People into her
nose would prove to be trickier than she thought. Timing would be the all
important factor, and re-picking fresh greeblies for each enemy she encountered
would be next to impossible, especially considering the scarf she'd need to
wear around her face.
Her solution was pure genius.
Pearls could be coated with nose-goop and would still be effective for seven to
ten minutes before losing their potency. Ania had only to fashion a
loading mechanism and she could rapid-fire the pearls directly from her
finger. The enemy, surrounded as they were in perpetual clouds of
luminescent bio-debris, would never see it coming.
Ania enlisted the help of local
celebrity Sir Knuckles Bodsworth IV to aid her. Sir Knuckles was the only
miniature swine around with training enough to speed-load the pearls from the
canisters in her ring onto her tensely coiled finger and then move before being
catapulted into sneezy, sinus congestion hell.
Ania and Sir Knuckles braved
unspeakable odds. Their journey took them deep into the heart of the
secret world of the Hay Fever People until they found themselves face to face
with the fabled El Groano, spiritual leader of the enemy. The moment of
truth at hand, Sir Knuckles rolled one of only two remaining deadly pearls onto
Ania's fingertip. He scampered to the side just as El Groano leaned
forward, seemingly to administer a fatal dose of mucus-layer irritants.
Time stood still, except for a guy named Frank who was there to fix the garbage
disposal in El Groano's kitchen. Frank had the presence of mind to paint
an exceptionally detailed picture of the moment.
An instant before the fatal shot was
fired, El Groano said something unexpected.
"Can I borrow your loufa?"
Ania paused.
"What?"
"Your loufa. Can I borrow
it?"
There was some confusion, but at
last Ania discovered that all the Hay Fever People wanted was to learn from
humans how to exfoliate more effectively. Ania gave him a few tips,
recommended a good mani-pedi guy, and left El Groano with a pumice stone and
what few Biore pads she had on her person as a gesture of good will.
The world was safe again. Sir
Knuckles was re-knighted as Sir Sir Knuckles. Ania accepted only a box of
thin-mints and a free lifetime subscription to Netflix as payment. El
Groano lived out the rest of his days with perfectly radiant skin, and
co-founded a software development company.
No comments:
Post a Comment