Soy.  It always came back to soy.  Thefez reflected on what he and his complicitous accomplices had started all those many moons ago in the chatterbox, with the first utterance of "LESBIANS! MONKEYS! SOY!"  Did he mean to start all that lunacy?

He didn't even know anymore.

He'd been on walkabout for the last two months, looking for the One True Meme.  The one meme to rule them all.  New York, Philadelphia, Los Angeles...he'd started the journey optimistic and upbeat, but months on the road with no leads had embittered him more than he could've ever imagined.  He was irritable, frustrated, and downright sad--sometimes sinking so low as to giving out backhanded compliments to folks who really didn't deserve them.  Fine folks like you and me.

Then, one day, the clue he'd been looking for--at a restaurant in San Antonio, right at the next table, a partially uneaten pizza in the shape of Al Capone!  That could mean only one thing: The One True Meme was in Chicago.

So, thefez packed his bags for what he hoped and prayed would be the last time.  He hopped in his red VW Bug (more of a scarlet, really, but carmakers knew better to call colors by such girly names) and hopped on I-57 for a nice long drive.  He couldn't sleep, so he just zealously drove through the night until Lakeshore Drive appeared in front of him--FINALLY!  No more cross-country trips, no more hundreds of gallons of gas pumped into the Bug's fuel tank, no more listening to cheap imitators try to coin their own memes in the chatterbox.

He searched everywhere.  Capone's old home, the remains of the hotel where he maintained his office, the exquisite restaurants he and his mafia compadres frequented.

Nothing.  Not a clue.

Fez needed fresh air.  Privacy.  He went to the Sears Tower and illegally made his way up to the roof.  Fresh air.  No distractions.  He saw the millions of people below as ants, all going about their business oblivious to the holy mission he was on.  He imagined them feigning intellectual discussions over dinner, pretending to have a clue about politics or music or whatever the hip topic of the moment was.

But all their ideas...had...what?

Fez stopped cold.

Removing Monkey Puppy?  Google balls touching bases?

Arrrg.

Fez sat down.  Like a fool, he'd been travelling the land looking for something that had been in his head the whole time.  The Capone thing had just been a red herring.  He walked to the edge of the roof, stood up, and just started screaming:

"I will REMOVE your "All Your Radical Touching Base Are Already Occurred to The Lesbian Monkey Puppy" Philosophy on me if you don't eat my soy google balls, hatt-baby. Real or Malarky?"

Once, twice, five times he shouted it out.  No one down below heard him; he was secretly glad.  It was too dangerous.  Too radical.  The general noding populous would never be able to handle it without their brains exploding.  He had discovered the One True Meme, and that was enough.

Content, satisfied, even a little humbled, Thefez returned home...but not before buying an Al Capone souvenir T-shirt.

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