The Chain Letter of Doom: Part Last

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Riverbottom weekend

Riverbottom weekend (Photo credit: davef3138)

The trouble now was that the entrance to the Original Loblaws was still hidden and she was unaware that it was directly under her. She also didn’t know which way was down or up. If she had brushed away a little dirt from the river bottom, the world would have been saved.

 

Unfortunately, good ideas like that are most often thought by brains owned by people who are good at breathing oxygen. At this moment, Elodie had only water available, of which breathing is a bad idea in itself. She tried to breathe it and the world was not saved.

Instead, it became completely overwhelmed by delicious pudding and every living soul died a delicious death. Even Rika, who probably would have wanted it that way.

The wise leprechauns of Leprechonia tried to slow the sticky and sweet doom, but only a hero or heroin in qualified to combine the ingredients of Anti-Pudding and leprechauns can only be supporting characters. Knowing, at last, that there was nothing more to be done, they followed a rainbow to the Moon, where they still live today.

And so, the story ends with this lesson: Do not ever follow the instructions given by a chain letter.

The Chain Letter of Doom: Part µ: *******s

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“But there are no Loblaws in this province! And if there were, I don’t think they would sell things like that.”

“It isn’t one of your regular mortal stores. The Original Loblaws was built underneath this very river in the elder times of Leprechonia. Its first shopkeeper, Phineas T Loblaw was another wise old Leprechaun who always kept the ingredients for Anti-Pudding available at a discount to any hero or heroine who required it. His shop has since become one of the biggest grocery chains in Ontario and Quebec, but the Original Loblaws remains here and still carries nog, fog, blintzes, and logs. I am legally required to inform you that I was paid to say that, but that knowledge can still save the world.”

“Ok, but how do I go there?”

“The river is right over there. Swim as deep as you can and there you’ll be there.”

“What if I drown before I find the entrance, eh?”

“Try not to do that.”

River Dove, Dovedale, Derbyshire

(Photo credit: eamoncurry123)

“Ok! But I didn’t bring my bathing suit.”

And with a flick of Fellipe’s spoon, Elodie instantaneously was wearing an 11-piece Leprechonian swimsuit. It was bright, metallic, green and not especially comfortable. Elodie thought her mother might not approve of its angles and widths (there were too many), but it seemed to be waterproof at least and that was what mattered.

Without pausing to ask more irrelevant questions (though she sort of wanted to), Elodie leaped into a half-side 720° wheely-drill barrel-flop and landed four meters under the river surface and directly above where the Professor had specified. Under normal circumstances, she might have been impressed by her own lack of splash, but she had other things to worry about now.

The Chain Letter of Doom: Part Something Else: The end of the middle of the end

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With one threat out of the way for the moment, Elodie returned her attention to the puppulent horror above her friends and below all standards of good doggy behavior.

Chtorgvinektonug had slowed his rapid pudding consumption and appeared to be a bit stunned if not in horrible pain. Perhaps Rika’s wolfsnack had not been authorized after all. Was that it?

No time to think, Elodie. Go back to saving the world. Yes. Rika was not our last hope, I am!

Maybe I should stop talking to myself without quotation marks and do something about this.

The beast continued whimpering as only a wildebeest/squid/bus/badger/hurricane can whimper, but also looked angrier and more determined than before. Soon, he would eat more pudding and the world be no more.

Professor Philippe, what should I do!

She did not expect an answer, but she got one anyway in the form of the wise old leprechaun himself. He then spoke:

“There is still hope, Elodie! I see that you cannot out-eat Chtorgvinektonug, but there is another way to defeat him.”

“Another way?!”

“Another way.”

“What is this other way?”

“You cannot consume this evil pudding, but it can still be neutralized with Anti-Pudding!”

“Where do I find Anti-Pudding? Also, why is it capitalized?”

“It isn’t capitalized, you just see it that way because it’s important. And you have to make it yourself.”

“How?

“You must use the ancient and sacred Leprechonian recipe that I’m about to give you.”

“Hurry up and tell me then! Chtorgvinektonug will be back at full eating power soon.”

“Patience, I’m getting to it. I know it as a rhyme to help me remember:

a large swathe of nog

four handfuls of fog

and nine blintzes from a bog.

Mix inside a log

thus spake the Great Blog”

“I don’t have any of those things! Also, what is the Great Blog?”

“You ask too many irrelevant questions. And you can find all those ingredients at your local Loblaws.”

Loblaw

Loblaw (Photo credit: taestell)

The Chain Letter of Doom: The Middle of the End: Part 1

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“Yes Elodie, I shall eat all the pudding,” Rika bellowed in a voice that came from everywhere at once, “Then all the pudding shall eat me. We will be one and we shall rule this planet with our deliciousness. What reason would I have for helping you? Humans have done nothing for me. Chtorgvinektonug was cute and fluffy and has now offered me a lifetime of pudding and a position in his New Earth government as Grand High Wurglefeist in exchange for my help in destroying all that is. Not much of a choice, eh?”

“You can’t do that!” said Elodie, “also, what is a Grand High Wurglefeist?”

“Not sure,” replied everything/Rika, “but it’s grand and high, so it must be important, right? We’ll make the awesomest evil dictatorship ever!”

Elodie thought about this while Rika (who was now approximately barn-sized and bucket-shaped) scooped up and devoured a handful of Cosbywolves.

“Aren’t those your allies? Why do you eat them?” asked Elodie.

“mostly because I want to. They taste like pudding!”

“You’ve become a monster!”

“Hmm. I guess I have. I should go and flatten Tokyo. It’s what we monsters do, eh?”

Bread Pudding 1

Bread Pudding 1 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

And she schlompfed into the distance, due west. Somehow, her steps appeared and sounded laborious and heavy, and yet she was moving at roughly the speed of a tsunami with a full tank of gas and freshly painted red stripes.

The Chain Letter of Doom: Part Something: The Beginning of the End

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giga pudding (front)

giga pudding (front) (Photo credit: manthatcooks)

Her laughter and terror now kicked away, Elodie remembered an important fact. The most legendary pudding-connoisseur of all Canada was buried, but alive in a hole two meters behind her. If any mortal was qualified perform this ghastly task, it was Rika. But was someone with such an affinity to an evil substance as pudding trustworthy? There was no time to ponder this.

Elodie, in her newfound alertness, leapt backwards through the air, flipping three times and dropping the Leprechonian spoon into Rika’s pit as she passed over it.

As it happened, this astounding feat of acrobatics was completely unnecessary. Rika was so thoroughly attuned to the True Spirit of Pudding that she had already begun to take it into herself it without a utensil of any kind. She had been in a trance of Chtorgvinektonug worship, like all the others, but despite her lack of consciousness and her mouth being occupied by mindless chanting, the surrounding toffenous muck of her pit had begun to become part of her. She had grown, not as a fat person grows, but in a way more resembling a tree, in all directions. Also like a growing tree, the pudding had made her body harder and stronger. Elodie estimated that Rika would soon be as large and pudding-powerful as her former pet and current idol.

“You are our last hope, Rika! You must eat all the pudding and defeat the evil ex-puppy!” she shouted louder than she probably needed to. If only it was that simple.

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.

The Chain Letter of Doom: Part Eight: The Chain Letter of History

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It was such a relief to Elodie because this was exactly what she was told to expect by Professor Felippe, the leprechaun under her bed who had taught her the secrets of apocalypse prevention, but only for things like this. He and Chtorgvinektonug had been good friends many lifetimes ago, long before the first humans crawled out of their bogs and started breathing air.

 

Their friendship had soured around the same time that Chtorgvinektonug had discovered pudding and began using it to take over the world. This primordial proto-pudding tasted a bit different than the dessert now made by modern cooks. Historians believe that it was much less sweet and somehow contained even more evil.

English: Kheer

English: Kheer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Like most leprechauns, Felippe had been quite greedy in his youth, but large pots of gold and sugary cereal were enough. If Chtorgvinektonug wanted to turn himself into a blasphemous muncher of worlds and bringer of dooms, that was his business and Felippe would not join him.

 

From then on, the two have fought an unending war of anti-friendship. The story of that war is known to few and told by fewer. Suffice it to say, you will not hear about it right now.