The Chain Letter of Doom: Part Nine: This story isn’t really about chain letters anymore, is it?

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As Elodie looked up at the napping abomination in the sky and then down at the personified pudding pops that powered its appalling puppulence, she reviewed the Professor’s detailed advice:

English: Storm clouds over Loch Migdale

“Eat the pudding. All of the pudding. Do it before Chtorgvinektonug can. Use this spoon.”

She retrieved the ancient Leprechonian weapon from her sack and considered what must be done. As a champion of rainbows, sunshine, and absolute justice, Elodie hated pudding. Not just the evil it represented, but also it’s taste, texture, and all other physical and metaphysical properties. Sweets were just fine, but not in pudding form. She was the last person who should be challenging a malevolent god to a pudding eating contest. Its residual puppulence would increase its devourment speed even further. It was hopeless unless she could eat all the vile dessert-mud while Chtorgvinektonug slept. She crept to the edge of the pit containing Jeromia, the class vice president and dipped the Leprechonian spoon into the toffenous muck.

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