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.