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I will write a new chapter once every week or two. You can vote on what to do next. You have the power to ruin the story for EVERYONE!


by James "Kibo" Parry

Copyright © 1997, 1998 James "Kibo" Parry


Poor Spot! His oven had broken again, just because he used it to dry off some fireworks that had gotten wet when he read their safety instructions in the bathtub while using his hair dryer. Now he had to buy a new oven or he'd never be able to eat the delicious On-Cor Two-Pound Family Size entree he'd already thawed by sitting on it all day. Spot was getting very hungry, as he'd missed breakfast because of Daylight Savings Time.

Spot went to his favorite appliance store, Klunker's. Just his luck! At Klunker's, everything was on sale this week! All the prices had been marked down to list price! (Spot was always scared to buy anything that wasn't priced at the Manufacturer's Suggested Retail Price because it meant it was bootleg. The National Council Of National Councils told him that.) Klunker's had two different kinds of ovens in stock.

"That's a thirty-nine dot pitch oven!" said a salesman with a silver toupee and gray hair in a very gravelly voice. He was pointing at the one Spot was looking at.

"Wow! Thirty-nine dot pitch! Is that good?"

"Why, Spot, it means this is an incredible bargain. Why don't you just follow me to the cash register and--"

Spot gestured at the other oven with his paw. "What's that one?"

"Oh, that's thirty-nine dot pitch too! It's just as good as the other one, but it doesn't come with the option of extending your warranty through an easy payment plan here at Klunker's. With the other one, you can extend the warranty an extra year for only two hundred dollars, which is a great bargain in case it breaks repeatedly over the next two years, you know? Anyway, which of these fine appliances would you like to buy?"

Spot chose the cheaper oven, which was a Mattel Easy-Bake. After paying the nice salesman for the oven, and for the extended warranty, and for the extended warranty for the box, he took one of the box's flaps in his teeth and dragged it all the way home. And up the seven flights of stairs.

Spot looked for a place to plug it in, and only then did Spot remember that he didn't have electricity. Three months later, after Dog Edison had wired his apartment for power, Spot plugged in his Easy-Bake.

Rigorously following the kitchen-tested instructions, he allowed the sixty-watt light bulb inside to warm up for fifteen minutes (because everyone knows it takes fifteen minutes for a light bulb to turn on) while he mixed one of the packets of cookie batter that came with the oven. He carefully divided the batter in half (they'd given him a generous amount, enough for two cookies) and put it in the tiny pans. Using the plastic shoving tool, he slid one into the three-inch-wide slot in the side of the plastic oven.

Forty-five minutes later, his cookie was ready! Unfortunately, by that time, it was already stale.

"Waah! This bites!" said Spot, trying to bite the biting cookie. He threw the cookie in the garbage disposal, which jammed. The stupid oven had broken Spot's most priceless possession, his garbage disposal autographed by Wayne Rogers of TV's "M*A*S*H"! Spot decided to return the Easy-Bake.

After carefully packing it in its original carton, with the styrofoam peanuts arranged in the same order they originally were according to the little numbers on them, he took the Easy-Bake to Klunker's and cashed it in. For the cost of the Easy-Bake plus another six hundred dollars, he was able to get the other oven, a General Electric MasterChef SuperBaker EnviroCook Oven. He took it home and plugged it in and...

...had to wait for the sixty-watt bulb to warm up. "Waah!" cried Spot as he realized it was an Easy-Bake oven with a sticker over the logo. He peeled off the sticker, which was the only electrical insulation in the oven, and got a painful shock.

Spot curled up on top of the slightly warm oven and cried himself to sleep. He dreamed of food. The growling in his stomach woke him up. "Waah! I wish I could cook my On-Cor Two-Pound Family Size Entree! Easy-Bake ovens are too difficult!"

A sixty-watt light bulb went on in Spot's brain. He had an idea! Then he forgot it again. No, wait! It came back after the "Pac-Man" tune went through his head six times. If Easy-Bake ovens were difficult... maybe Difficult-Bake ovens would be easy! Spot called Mattel and special-ordered one.

It was delivered the next day by a team of Mattel technicians in black fatigues. They set it up and everything. It was...

An Easy-Bake oven inside a freezer. And it was rigged so that the light bulb only came on when Spot's mouth was closed. (It required Spot to wear something like a night brace, only with a big radio antenna.) This was the worst oven ever!

Spot was close to dying from starvation. He was so desperate that he decided to eat out, despite the problems dogs have getting seated in fine restaurants everywhere. On his way out of the apartment, Spot turned off the Difficult-Bake's light, and the night brace forced his jaw open. "Waaaagggghhh!" gurgled Spot.

As Spot left the building, he bumped into his neighbor, Albert Einstein, who had the same problems. The two decided to eat out together. They went to...


While Spot and Einstein were trying to make up their minds where to eat--which was, between them, half a job--a zeppelin flew past with a huge electrical sign:

Chez Cheez . . . . . . . .  4
Irwin Allen Burger . . . . 12
King Lazy's Faire  . . . .  8
McDonalds  . . . . . . . .  3
McDonalds in outer space . 16
The Pez Factory Outlet . . 27
Yankee Stadium . . . . . .  2

"I gotta idea," said Spot, "let's go to the Pez Actory Foutlet! What's a Pez?"

Einstein patiently explained the concept of Pez to Spot during the ninety-minute walk. By the time they arrived, Spot almost understood how to operate a Pez dispenser. They stepped into the GLAMOROUS!!!PEZ!!!SHOWROOM!!! and...

Inside were some moldy old bricks of stupid Pez on a card table. Two employees, wearing hair nets that almost covered their tattoos, were playing cards on it. When they saw Spot and Einstein, they quickly stubbed out their cigars on the Pez.

"Yipes!" said Spot. Even he couldn't enjoy cigar-flavored Pez! "Professor, let's eat somewhere else."

"But I'm so hungry, Spot. Let's just eat in the first place we can find... maybe they've got an employee cafeteria here, like on 'Laverne & Shirley'?" That was Einstein's second favorite show, after "NBC's seaQuest DSV".

The employee cafeteria in the Pez Factory Outlet was...

An Irwin Allen Burger Express. Spot was thrilled! "Yay! Irwin Allen Burgers, and they're Express! Who's Irwin Allen?"

They went in, were confronted with the choice of two main sections. On the left, people in orange and green jumpsuits were go-go dancing inside a big flying saucer with a household robot. On the right was a room which was turning upside down while catching fire and exploding and shaking and filling with lava underwater and the water caught fire and Shelley Winters sang the Oscar-winning "We May Never Love Like This Again". They went to the left.

They were greeted by two robot celebrity impersonators. "You nattering nitwit!" shouted the robot duplicate of TV's Dr. Smith.

"WARNING! WARNING!" shouted the robot duplicate of TV's Robot.

"You cantankerous cacophony of malfunctioning mechanisms! You ponderous pile of pusillanimous processors!"


Then a robot Abbott and a robot Costello came in, along with robotic versions of the Seinfeld cast, and they all began screaming at the top of their lungs.






Spot and Einstein screamed and ran away. It was that airport 'Cheers' all over again, where the robots weren't warm'n'witty like the ones in the real 'Cheers'! They went into the other half of the Irwin Allen Burger where they were exploded, crushed, drowned, and flame-broiled. It was fun! Until Einstein died.

"Waah!" cried Spot. "Einstein died and he didn't even get to finish his curly fries! I better figure out a way to bring him back from the dead!"


Spot think and thunk about what to do with Einstein's moldering corpse. As he was thinking, the Expository Zeppelin passed by with a new sign:

Steal his Nobel Prize . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  4
Donate him to science . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  6
Freeze him in his home freezer  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Resuscitate with CPR and/or HTML  . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
Give him mouth-to-mouth with NO KISSING . . . . . . . . . .  7
Revive him with a Level 9 Dungeons+Dragons Spell  . . . . . 25
Dip him in plastic to preserve him for future generations . 13

"Waah!" said Spot, "The stupid zeppelin made me forget what I was thinking about!" He had had a really great idea about Einstein's corpse, something about a 3-D "Weekend At Bernie's" movie, but now it was lost forever. He sighed and read the sign, then proceeded to cast a Level 9 Dungeons & Dragons spell.

Of course, Spot, being a dog, wasn't allowed to play Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, only to use the Very Basic Set, which only came with two-sided dice. He put on his wizard's robe, polished his wand, and read aloud the incantations from Gary Gygax's Evil Satanic Sorceror Funtime Game Book.

"Owah tagoo siam! Owah tanoldjoke thisis!" chanted Spot, while staring into his bedroom mirror and waving his paw back and forth twelve inches over a tiny birthday candle. "Owah terworld wastoobo ring! Owah tagoo siam!"

There was a loud *POP* and Spot turned into a goose. A particularly silly goose. He tried to turn to the book's index to look up the Undo Spell, but he couldn't turn the pages with his front paws because he didn't have any! He just had silly goose feet. "Waah!" quacked Spot, "my paws are all webbed!" Now Einstein would stay dead forever, and some British family would eat Spot at Christmas! Dungeons & Dragons had ruined Spot's life already, and he hadn't even gotten to the part about swearing allegiance to the Devil!

Spot's life quickly went downhill from there. Now that he had been exposed to the sleaze of D & D he fell in with a bad crowd. He played pinball at dives like Chuck E. Cheese. He listened to music with words. And most decadent of all, he read comic books. "Gosh! I sure can't decide if Archie should go with Betty or Veronica!" he quacked.

Eventually the spell wore off, and Spot's front paws grew back. Unfortunately, he had already had plastic surgery to remove his big annoying beak, so he turned into a dog with no nose. This meant that for the rest of his life he had to listen to yet another old joke. (Old jokes like Spot, fruit flies like a banana.) But at least it now meant that, having front paws, he could turn the pages of his comic books and see how they ended.

Of course, he completely forgot about Einstein, having put him away somewhere. (I don't know where he put Einstein either, but I'm sure he'll turn up.)

Spot loved comic books so much that he decided to give something back to the comic book community and write one. He wrote a rough draft, on a piece of sandpaper, and took it to see the man who controlled the world's supply of comic books, Stanley Stanley. He was a tall man with a cigar permanently clenched in the left side of his mouth, two gray rectangles painted on the sides of his hair, and permanently splayed legs revealing that his pants were tight enough to disclose private information. Spot shielded his eyes from the sight of Stanley Stanley's lower half and handed him what he wrote.

"HMM! I MUST READ THIS STORY! HERE GOES NOTHING... I AM READING THE STORY... WHY - - THIS STORY IS GARBAGE!", yelled Stanley Stanley in a neatly-lettered speech-balloon. He went on to explain, in alternating words of capitals and boldface capitals, that (a) comic books usually had pictures, (b) Spot's idea for a superhero, a guy who could turn into a baby, was just plain bad, and (c) nobody would care whether he won his battle with "The Pothole Stealer". Spot, depressed, trudged out of the office with his tail between his non-goose legs.

On the way home, he was mugged by a guy in a black and white striped shirt and a Lone Ranger mask! "If only I could turn into a baby like my superhero, Infant X!" whined Spot as he handed his precious comic-book money to the bad man.

Now Spot couldn't afford the next issue of She-Hulk! Spot went home and turned on the TV, but he couldn't hear it because of his loud sobbing over not having any source of entertainment. At only three dollars for sixteen pages, comic books were the best value in fun, but Spot couldn't even afford to buy the page with the fraudulent novelty ads! If Spot had just had a super power, any old super power, he could have shown that crook just who wore the pants around here. Then he remembered superheroes always wore leotards with underpants over them, so he changed his wish to wanting to have super powers and pants.

A commercial interrupted the show Spot wasn't watching. "Yes! You too can have super powers! All you need to do is get a pound of fresh tofu, take the back off your TV set, and..." Spot switched the TV off so it wouldn't distract him from trying to give himself super powers. He went into the basement, where the late Einstein's lab equipment was still set up (still bubbling, in fact) and started mixing chemicals at random.

In no time at all, he drank all the chemicals in the lab, including the ones which were on loan from the junior high school and had to be returned later. Spot didn't feel any superer. In fact, he felt downright normal.

Spot tried to punch his way through the wall, but nothing happened except for the pain making him cry some more. "That's it!" shouted Spot, "Maybe my super power is that I cry a lot!" But then he realized that to use it he'd have to marry Ricky Ricardo or Rob Petrie, and he didn't want to marry a guy, especially on a sitcom. Even if the guy was built like Stanley Stanley. Spot went back to the drawing board to design himself a super power that was cooler than that. Like being able to turn into a baby.

As Spot drew on the blackboard with a big piece of yellowed chalk, he drew a few squiggles and then it snapped in half. There was weird stuff inside. Spot was startled to see that he hadn't been writing with chalk, but the dessicated corpse of Albert Einstein! And now he'd gone and broken dead Einstein into two separate but equal parts!

After he epoxied Einstein back together, he remembered that there was something he was supposed to try to do to the corpse. Oh, yeah, that was it, he was supposed to revive the corpse. He wondered if he should have done that before he glued it back together, and more importantly, should he try to revive Einstein by putting him in the particle accelerator or by hitting him on the head with a flowerpot?

The flowerpot trick usually worked with Einstein, but this time it didn't do much except change the shape of his head, and now Einstein's head rattled when Spot shook it. Little bits of brain fell out of Einstein's ears, and Spot carefully stuffed everything he found on the floor back into Einstein's head: brain bits, pennies, old rubber bands, and a losing lottery ticket. He tossed Einstein's body into the particle accelerator and switched it on.

Within moments, Einstein stepped out! "Hiya, Spot," he said, and then he sneezed and a paper clip came out his nose. He tried to straighten out his pants but failed because Spot had glued his torso on crooked. Spot ran over and hugged Einstein.

Spot's carelessness, forgetting to switch off the accelerator, nearly caused a tragedy as it overheated. Fortunately Einstein didn't like to be hugged and shoved Spot away, then saw the accelerator's warning lights glowing. "Spot! It's going to blow!" shouted Einstein, as he hurled himself to the floor. Spot hid behind a stack dynamite.

There was a mighty explosion, of a very scientific type: first some green zigzag lightning bolts came out, then some expanding circles with blue fire in them. Then there was a particle system which revolved. "Ooh," said Spot as he watched the cool special effects, "Ahh."

A flaming steel I-beam fell sideways onto Einstein. "Spot! Get out of here! Save yourself!" shouted the grat scientist, the I-beam moving up and down as the breathed. Spot gripped one end of the I-beam in his teeth and tried to pull it off Einstein, but it wouldn't budge. With tears in his eyes (still from the comic book thing) he ran out of the building as the entire roof collapsed.

Spot looked back at the burning wreckage of their home. He knew that Einstein couldn't be dead again so soon. He'd probably just wind up hideously disfigured, as a Phantom Of The Opera or something.


While Spot was wondering what sort of hideously deformed phantom Einstein would become, the Expository Zeppelin flew past yet again. Richard Dawson leaned out the window and shouted "Survey Says!", but nobody could hear him because he shouted it into the propeller and it came out sounding like "Surwubwubwub Subwubwubsss!!" Fortunately, the Expository Zeppelin still had its illuminated sign:

Phantom Of The DMV  . . . . . . . . .  4
Phantom Of The Lame Sitcom  . . . . .  3
Phantom Of Bob Hope's House . . . . .  7
Phantom Of The Chuck E. Cheese  . . .  9
Phantom Of The Pornography Store  . . 19
Phantom Of The Star Trek Convention .  5

Well, thankfully Einstein would definitely not have to be one of the many frightening-looking people hanging around the DMV all day. Nor would he have to live in the rafters above the set of "Family Matters". Einstein would get to live in a pornography store for the rest of his life, the lucky bastard!

"Ding dong!" said Spot's doorbell. Amazingly enough the front door was all that was left of the apartment Spot and Einstein shared. Spot opened the door, and there was a man with one of those six-foot-long cardboard checks only really rich people use.

"Guess what, Spot! You know that comic book script you wrote? I represent the Fox network and I want to buy your idea for a million dollars!"

Spot thanked the man and took the gigantic check, and closed the door. He turned on the TV and his show was already on the air. His superhero now had a laugh track! "Waah!" whined Spot, "I didn't mean for my completely serious comic book to be a lame sitcom!" If only Albert Einstein were the Phantom Of The Lame Sitcom so he could harass and eventually murder everyone at the Fox network!"

But alas, that was not to be. The readers of this story are now responsible for the Fox network's financial success, curse them. The idea of Fox executives not being assassinated saddened Spot, and to cheer himself up he went to the neighborhood pornography store.

"Gee, I wonder if this is the same pornography store Einstein is hiding in," wondered Spot as he turned the pages of an issue of "Ms. Floppy Jugs" from 1996. It cost eighty-five dollars and had various stains on every single page, except for the subscription form. Spot put the magazine back on the rack (right between "Hairless Harley Whores" and "She-Hulk") and started peeking into all the dark corners of the store.

The dark corners smelled funny. And they had sticky floors. Sticky walls and ceilings, too. Spot noticed that the ceilings even tasted funny. He looked for Einstein at the bottom of the bin of factory-reject inflatable women ("holds up to 300 lbs." was crossed off the boxes) and he looked for Einstein in the little room with the bondage gear. He was shocked to discover that they were selling his dog collar for fifty dollars! And worse, he was still wearing it!

"Waah!" wailed Spot as a dominatrix tossed him into her car. She drove away, whisking Spot to an unknown destination where he would meet the givers of pain and delight.

Meanwhile, Einstein was still trying to figure out how to unlatch the door of the video booth so he could get out. He'd already seen "Debbie Does Windows 95 For Dummies" fifteen times, and he wanted desperately to get out of the hot little booth so he could haunt a different part of the store. Unfortunately, the door was crusted over with something that looked like bubble gum mixed with barnacles and grape jelly. "Eww!" said Einstein as he realized the only thing he could wipe his hand on was his fluffy hairdo. Being Phantom Of The Pornography Store was hard!

Of course, eventually the police raided the store, what with it being in the parking lot of a high school and all. Einstein was thrown in jail, which was just like the pornography store only without the pornography. And the ceilings were even stickier. Worst of all, the guards took away his belt, shoelaces, and mask.

"GIVE ME BACK MY PHANTOM MASK! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M HIDEOUSLY DEFORMED?" yelled Einstein, who was in reality no worse-looking than he'd always been. The extent of his hideous injuries were a small red dot on the sole of his left foot, and some split ends. But Einstein's fragile ego had been shattered, and he needed his mask back. With it, he could be just another anonymous Nobel laureate in a baggy sweater, mismatched socks, and big hair. Without it, he was hideous! And he was in jail!

His cellmate, Roger Penrose, seemed a nice enough sort of guy. He spent all his time counting the infinite number of ways the pentagonal bricks in the wall could be rearranged. There was a John Horton Conway in the next cell, who was trying to get a sheet of graph paper to become sentient. And further down in the cell block there was a heavy steel door behind which someone was in solitary confinement. Nobody knew anything about him except that his name was Andrew Wiles and occasionally they could hear him begging the guard for a bigger cell so he could write out his proof of Fermat's Last Theorem.

Einstein wasn't enjoying Math & Science Jail at all, as you could imagine. It combined the worst aspects of jail and high school with no pornography. If only he could turn into a baby so he could escape, relying on his cute dimples to charm the guards. Dimples had magical powers! But all Einstein had were character lines. (Fellow prisoner Benoit Mandelbrot called him "fractal face".)

The law said that any Nobel Laureate seen anywhere near a pornography store had to go to jail for a googolplex years, and didn't even get a fair trial. He got an unfair trial run by the Book Of The Month Club where when he walked into the courtroom they told him he was already two weeks late and had to take the penalty. Einstein had no hope of parole or pornography.

Meanwhile, somewhere far away, Spot was in a cave with a perfectly flat floor and walls that looked like crumpled paper sprayed with glitter. The woman that had taken him, and her female friends--The Givers Of Pain And Delight--had affixed some sort of belt buckle to his bulging stomach. It looked like an empty yogurt cup, with a blinking light on it. If Spot did anything wrong, the woman would press a button on her goofy bracelet, there would be a "BOINGGGGG" sound, and Spot would writhe around in pain, grimacing like William Shatner. Yep, Spot had been kidnapped by the same women who once stole Spock's Brain.

"You are not morg," said the woman, "you are not eye-morg. Brain and brain, what is brain?" Spot moaned with agony as he realized that he was trapped in one of his least favorite "Star Trek" episodes, right up there with the one about the space hippies, and the one where the giant carrot turned Dr. McCoy into a stalk of celery. If only Einstein had become Phantom Of The Star Trek Convention, maybe these women would have taken Spot there, and Einstein would have saved him, but Spot knew that Einstein was probably having the time of his life as Phantom Of The Pornography Store.

One of the evil women inserted a large, gloppy, wrinkly object into a slot in the front of the big computer. It was a human brain. But whose? She switched on the computer and it began to speak:

"How'ya doin', folks? Didja hear about Billy Carter?"

Spot screamed as Bob Hope's voice came from the gigantic computer. He was trapped in a civilization run by a robotic Bob Hope, who was now immortal!


Einstein peered out the window of Science Jail, where the sun was setting over the massive Easy-Bake factory, which manufactured the small plastic ovens by melting plastic over a warm light bulb. He thought he saw the Expository Zeppelin in the distance, but it was just the Suppository Zeppelin. The real Expository Zeppelin had crashed on an island, where nobody would ever see its sign:

 6 -> Bob Hope's disembodied brain takes over the world.
 6 -> The USS Enterprise does battle with the She-Hulk.
 6 -> Spot tries to find "dominatrix" in the dictionary.
11 -> Einstein breaks out of Science Jail by building an atomic bomb.
10 -> Hope's brain escapes and saves Einstein from the electric chair.
 9 -> Spot also goes to jail for illegally squaring a circle.
31 -> Einstein is given shock treatment because they can.
 6 -> Spot uses the million dollars from Fox to buy this story.
10 -> Spot and Einstein die and the story ends.

Poor Einstein! Now he would never know what was going to happen to him only fifteen short seconds from... NOW!

"What's happening to me? Where are you taking me?" he screamed as the men in white rubber coats strapped him to the solid gold table which was smeared with electrode paste. One of the men unplugged the treatment room's air conditioner so that he could plug the table into the same socket.

ZZZZZZZORCH! ZZZZZZORCH! ZZZZZZZZORCH!!! FRIZZ!!! The last sound was Einstein's hair getting all squiggly. The first three sounds were his left, right, and middle brain hemispheres being fried into submission so that Einstein would no longer make any trouble for the nice men in the white coats.

Einstein drooled. "Duh," he said, "daw. Dur. Nur. La la la bah daw ner ner. Ba-NA-na." The treatment obviously wasn't working, so they applied the juice again. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZORCHZOWZOWZOW!!! Smoke came out of Einstein's ears as the last vestiges of intelligence boiled away with a smell like corned beef. Einstein stopped drooling, because he forgot how to do it.

Meanwhile, on the alien planet in the distant future, the planet run by evil dominatrixes and the disembodied robotic brain of Bob Hope, the planet where the walls were made out of paper-maché covered with structural glitter, Spot was also being given electroshock treatment by the space amazons.

One of the evil women, named Lurna, smiled at him. "Relax, little puppy. Electroshock is good for you. Like a lobotomy or jury duty. Think of it as a growth experience... FOR THE CONCEPT OF EVIL!"

That didn't make any sense to Spot, but he didn't have time to think about it, being too busy feeling pain. ZZZZZZZORCHWUPWUPWUP!!!! Steam hissed from his ears as his head deflated. Now Spot was just as stupid as Einstein!

"Yay!" shouted Bob Hope's brain, "Now I'm the least senile person in this story!" Then the brain fell apart into tiny pieces, which floated around in the vat's rancid fluid. The vat was then sold to the makers of Campbell's Soup.

Back on Earth, Einstein tried to pick his nose but missed, hurting his belly button with the fork. Meanwhile, on the distant planet, Spot tried to stick a fork into his belly button and missed, hurting his belly button with the wrong fork. They continued this way for a while, and then they died of stupidity.

Spot's eternal soul and Einstein's eternal soul bumped into each other outside the Pearly Gates. "Hey! You got your chocolate in my peanut butter!" whined Einstein, whose intelligence was slowly returning now that his stupid body was dead. They were becoming less stupid by the minute.

Of course, in the afterlife, there is no time, so it took a while for a minute to pass. But eventually the great scientist and the faithful dog had recovered enough brainpower to walk over to St. Peter's desk.

St. Peter scribbled their Social Security numbers on the screen of his Newton, twice, but couldn't find them in God's database. He looked them over. "Well, great scientist and mere puppy, looks like we lost your records. Are you supposed to be on your way to Heaven, Purgatory, or Hell?"

"Uh--" said Einstein, "--we're, um, all dead and stuff. Can we still hang around in Heaven even though we're dead? It won't gross people out or anything?"

Spot wagged his little tail. "Heaven! I wanna go to Heaven!"

St. Peter slipped his Newton into a little holster attached to his halo, which he wore around his waist. "Oh, dear. You see, that was a test. Anyone who assigns themselves to Heaven is unworthy, and must go to Hell. To get into Heaven, you should have said you wanted to go to Hell."

Einstein's reflexes kicked in. "Whoops! It was a typo. I meant to say we both want to go to Hell!"

"But I wanna go to heaven!" cried Spot. "Heaven, Heaven, Heaven! Hell sucks!"

St. Peter pulled what appeared to be a large flush lever, and the cloud Spot and Einstein were standing on disappeared. They fell and fell and fell and fell and fell until they were too tired to fall any more, and then they landed in an enormous lava lamp, filled with real lava.

"Ha ha ha!" laughed Satan. "I've wanted to get you for some time, Dr. Albert Einstein, PhD! And your little dog, too!"

"He's not my dog," Einstein said, "we're just good friends." Then a tidal wave of glowing lava drenched them and they sank to the bottom of the lava lamp. It was heated by a sixty-watt light bulb so big it could power an Easy-Bake oven the size of Wyoming.

Spot and Einstein cried and suffered as they oozed around inside the giant lava lamp. The temperature was over a million billion trillion times as hot as Taco Bell's hot sauce, or to put it more tangibly, twice as hot as the Sun. They were most unhappy, and the fact that they were unhappy made Satan happier, and seeing a happy Satan made Spot and Einstein unhappier, and this made Satan so happy he decided to give them an extra-special punishment, a punishment so horiffic that even Satan would not deserve it if he died.


Satan was having the time of his life dragging his fingernails along the entire length of an infinitely long blackboard, when he noticed some graffiti:

  10 -> The Smurfs.
   4 -> Lloyd Bridges.
  16 -> The new Atari WebTV.
   1 -> Three-grit sandpaper.
  21 -> Fluffy pink marshmallow Peeps.
   4 -> William Shatner's hair and Krazy Glue.
  15 -> The entire contents of a Chinese supermarket.
   4 -> Something so horrible it makes the story end forever.

"Waah!" cried Satan. "I like three-grit sandpaper!"

"Ha ha!" sneered some dead kids, "nobody likes Satan's favorite sandpaper!"

This made Satan mad. He threw a royal hissy fit. Satan smashed his beloved Atari WebTV, made the entire contents of a Chinese supermarket become rancid (which meant he only had to work his magic on three packets of Kool-Aid) and then he Krazy Glued William Shatner's "hair" to the late Lloyd Bridges. It made him look so horrible that this story ended.

T H E       E N D

Of course, Satan knew that in Hell, nothing could actually make the story end, so that he could keep torturing Spot and EInstein forever and ever. Well, there was one way the story could end, as a safety measure, but it was extremely unlikely: unless someone said the secret sentence, the story would continue forever. A sentence chosen solely for its unlikelyhood of ever being said by anyone, a sentence known only to Satan, a sentence so strange even he couldn't remember it, the sentence of doom was buried somewhere deep in Satan's subconscious, and he made a point of never, ever thinking about the stuff that was in his subconscious. (Satan was this way because of his childhood toilet training.)

The lava lamp in which Einstein and Spot were swimming was getting uncomfortably hot. It was nearly half a degree hotter than the rest of Hell, adding up to a temperature over a billion and a half degrees. They were sweating, and the drops of sweat were floating amid the secret ingredients of the lava lamp (fifty percent yellow corn oil, fifty percent factory reject red wax lips.) A drop of sweat from Spot's nose floated around behind Einstein, and then hit Spot in the nose.

"I got a idea!" said Spot. "Maybe we can sweat our way out!"

Einstein poo-poohed the idea.

Spot squealed, "Eww! We have to swim in this, you know!" but Einstein explained to him that it was just a colorful metaphor which meant Einstein thought Spot's idea wasn't worth running up the flagpole. Nevertheless, Spot went ahead with his idea. He decided to sweat some more.

Spot did cartwheels and a hundred sit-ups, and then ate some hot sauce from the Chinese supermarket in the base of the lava lamp. But it was sort of rancid (the red peppers were green, and the green peppers were red) and he felt like throwing up. But then he remembered his earlier admonition to Einstein about swimming in their own poo-poo... and that made him throw up.

Einstein saw this and immediately threw up too. This made Spot throw up harder.

Satan banged on the glass with his pitchfork. "Hey, you guys better clean that up!" he shouted. He didn't want to have to deal with this mess, as he was busy trying to think of a way to abuse some pink fluffy marshmallow Peeps.

Now, Peeps, as every small child knows, are Easter marshmallows which are supposedly shaped like little chicks. Well, they're actually shaped like those swirls of toothpaste in commercials. Except of course you never can get the toothpaste coiled into that perfect "S", and neither can the guys who make Peeps, which are actually an asymmetrical abstract shape which is supposed to be a different abstract shape.

Satan hated Peeps. They were yummy and came in pretty colors and were light and fluffy and symbolized all that was good. But, although he had been trying for thousands of years, he had yet to destroy one. They were made out of some tough rubbery substance that could survive being mashed, stretched, drop-kicked, and sat on by William Shatner. "Bah!" growled Satan, throwing the Peeps as far into Hell as he could. They went about a foot and then a puff of air blew them back at him, as they had an extraordinarily fluffy nature. They landed near his feet, entirely undamaged.

Satan sat down and sobbed into his hands. "Peeps! Peeps! Peeps! I hate Peeps!"

Einstein looked out through the now-extra-swirly fluids in the lava lamp and saw Satan having a nervous breakdown from Hell. "Hey, look, Spot! Now's our chance! All we have to do is exploit Satan's weakness: Peeps!"

"You mean he can't resist the wholesome goodness of Peeps?"

"No, Spot, I mean he hates Peeps."

"Oh." Spot was puzzled. Everybody hated Peeps!

Einstein dipped his finger in a blob of lava and wrote on the wall of the lava lamp:


Spot was even more puzzled now. "What does that say, Einstein? I can't read it, it's backwards!"

"Of course it's backwards, you silly puppy, we want Satan to be able to read it from the outside."

"But you wrote it backwards on the outside of the glass. Why did you do that when we're inside?"

Einstein couldn't answer. He reached out through the enormous hole in the side of the lava lamp and wiped off the backwards backwards lettering and re-wrote it in regular backwards letters.

"Hey, there's a hole in the lava lamp!" shouted Spot, so Einstein fixed it. Then they waited for Satan to see Einstein's note.

Satan squinted up at the lava lamp towering over the Peep-littered landscape. He could barely make out some of the letters through the sulfurous vapors:


Now it was Satan's turn to be baffled. And being baffled made him mad. He walked around stepping on as many Peeps as possible while thinking about what this message from the two idiots in the lava lamp could mean. Then he decided it meant that he needed to turn up the heat in the lava lamp and cook them some more. He turned the dimmer on the giant sixty-watt bulb all the way up. And, for good measure, he stuck a couple of the marshmallow Peeps to the outside.

Spot looked at the Peeps, which were slowly melting and oozing down the outside of the glass. "Hey! Look, Einstein! Satan's trying to annoy us by making us look at Peeps!"

Einstein was excited. "Don't you see what this means? Satan has at long last stumbled on a way to destroy Peeps! Now he no longer has any hang-ups and he will be a swell guy! Satan will be our friend!" Einstein hugged Spot, confident that everything would be okay.

Spot looked again at the oozing Peeps and a tear rolled down his cheek, then floated away in the lava goo. Melting Peeps made little Spot sad. "I feel sorry for those Peeps," said Spot, which was the sentence that made the story end.

T H E       E N D

Hooray! The story successfully ended with a happy ending set in Hell,
and some tear-jerking drama involving candy nobody likes!

Now you get to choose where the next story in the series will start. Just pick the appropriate words to fill in the blanks!

Note: Sorry, votes are no longer accepted, 'cause a lot of people already did and I wrote the next chapter. But here are the choices that people had:

Read the beginning of the new story RIGHT NOW!
(And that one will let you vote!)

James "Kibo" Parry
last revised March 3, 1999
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