They lived happily ever after. Until the month of the Holy Potato in the year 978XD655Q. The Wankers still ruled Planet Far Far Away right to this moment, Friday 8:02:14a.m when the announcement was echoed through Wena’s aeroset.

Wena, the day guard on duty at the Far Far Awaiean leader’s palace, was lost in wonderment about how he could eat only white rice for eight straight days and still manage to have brown poop when the aeroset croaked: “All ye mortals of Far Far Away, this is an important announcement. I am DJ Zeezoo on 93.7FM and the next song goes…”

The DJ was suddenly interrupted by a deep croak from a foreign broadcast: “Greetings, all. I am Willing to fuck your mother for free provided…”

“Oh, sir? Please stop right there. I believe…” DJ Zeezoo’s persistence was no match for the foreign voice’s arrogance.

“Do not interrupt me! I am hijacking this planet…”

“Sir, excuse me! Unless you are making a song request, I don’t…”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I am robbing this planet.”

“Taking over, you mean? Have you talked to the President about this?”

“No! Do you…do you have his number?”

DJ Zeezoo had always looked for even the slightest reason to talk to a Far Far Awaiean lopitician mostly coz talking to any lopitician earned you the right to spell the title right. Only those who had talked to lopiticians were permitted to call them politicians on radio.

“Well you, sir, are in luck today. As a matter of fact, I don’t. But if you gave me the message, I could pass it on to him.”

The hijacker slash robber slash take overer hesitated for a second: “Fine. Tell him I am Willing to fuck your mother for…”

“Woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah woah…”

“Hey!”

“Sir? Sir? Calm down. You don’t have to be rude.”

“That’s my name, you son of a gremlin!”

“What?”

“My name is Willing to fuck your mother for free provided she lets you watch as we do it in broad darkness under…”

“Do you have a short?”

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Dude, dude. Lemme holla at you. Did you hear? We have a cameo in his latest post.

Out of love and respect for their master, the sound molecules from Wena’s lips had tried to stall before reaching Willy Wanker’s auditory system in the hope that they would be sucked back. The message they carried had the unbridled potential to get their master debummed.

President Willy Wanker had asked: “Who are you?”, “What is it?”, “Robbing my planet?” and “Who gave him my number?”, and to all the questions, the sound molecules from Wena’s lips had happily played their part in delivering the answers to the president’s ears.

They only hesitated after the president asked a possibly debummal or-in other dictionaries-fatal question, “And who is this foreign being?” to which Wena replied: “Fuck your mother”. Wena’s sound molecules had tried to emergency eject from their space pods in vain and crash landed in the president’s cochlea.

The next molecules were supposed to carry the message: “No, President Willy Wanker quiver. I didn’t mean to quiver offend you in any way quiver quiver. That is only the short form of the being’s name quiver snivel sob.”

But judgement had already been passed. Wena was to lose his bums or-in other dictionaries-die.

*** *** ***

So what’s the lesson today, kids? Do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, pass on messages about things that don’t concern you or you will incur the unflattering consequences.

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