PART IV: A NEW SPAM
"Well, I suppose I could be here a while," thought Jack, as he hung up-side-down in a pile of Sportsman's Goop. If you don't know how he got there, you obviously haven't been paying much attention. I suggest that you reread YET ANOTHER GROOVY STORY (THAT ALSO HAS NO TITLE.)
Jack tried to headbang himself out of a sticky situation (he was up-side-down, of course.) Every time he tried this, his body would mearly start wobbling about. The glue was very strong. "Dang it," thought Jack. "If this keeps up, I'll end up as depressed as Jessie."
Suddenly, the Great Llama appeared and said, "Jack, I have wonderful news! Two things really. First of all, I have found a way to remove you from the Goop. So stop headbanging or you'll end up like Bobby the bovine cow. Second, I have figured out why hot dogs come in packs of 10, and buns come in packs of 8. Apparently, the Animainiacs used just another (Obi-) one of their Jedi mind tricks to convince the food industry to produce these strange hot dog/ bun ratios."
To this, Jack responded, "That's just Bully! I thought I could use a can of Mr. Solvent to free myself, but I'm fresh out."
"That's just what I had in mind." said the Great Llama. He then whipped out a can of Mr. Solvent and poured it on the Sportsman's Goop.
"Mmm...." Jack said, "Solvents, aerosols, and nitratish...Aaarrgle..." The Great Llama began complaining about how sniffing Holy Solvents is bad.
Jack, in a very high state of being, shouted out, "Holy Toledo, Batman! Wait, I am Batman! To the Batcave! Hahaha!"
The Great Llama slapped Jack across the face, saying, "Come to your senses Jim...er...I mean, Jack."
"Okay, okay. Back to normality," said Jack.
"You never were normal, Jack," said the Llama.
"Oh, yeah, okee-doke. Forget I said that."
The Great Llama then transported Jack to Pluto, where there were these 39 weird people (and OJ Simpson, but he was only there to escape the press,) who claimed that they had died, and it was Heaven. These people were looked down upon because if you think Pluto is Heaven, you have a really twisted sense of reality. Not that Pluto is bad, in fact, it's quite literally the coolest place in the solar system, but you still wouldn't want to spend eternity there.
"There is a great disturbance in the SPAM." the Great Llama explained to Jack. "A new power has arisen. The Evil Lord Cookie has created a Death-Chip which can destroy an entire SPAM-lab with a single shot. We need your help. Jack the-SPAM-knight, you're our only hope!" At that point, the Great Llama suddenly got distorted, looked around nervously, lent over, and hit an invisible button, then disappeared for a second.
He then reappeared and said, "Did you catch all that?"
"Of course,' said Jack.
Then the Great Llama disappeared again.
Jack began to think. This was not abnormal, but what was that, this time it was not entirely about SPAM. It had a good deal of SPAM content, but not 100% SPAMish. He sat there, thinking long and hard, about a way to save everybody from the Evil Lord Cookie's Death-Chip. Then, it came to him. He would found the WALRI, a society so secret that even HE didn't know what the name stood for. There would be weekly meetings, where strange things would be discussed, and only one person would ever refuse to join who was invited. (Jack did not know that last part at the time, but it would prove to be true.) He thought this 'WALRI' association could build a huge army, and destroy the Death-Chip. Then this army could be used to stop any other problem that may arise; even to the extent of stopping murderous lockers.
Jack ran around, trying desperately to find the Great Llama. He asked everybody he saw, but they all hadn't seen him. He got desperate, and even had to ask OJ Simpson, who simply replied, "You stupid Kato Kalen wannabee! I know what you're really up to! Ask me where the Great Llama is and expect me to answer! HA! I won't do it! I know that all you really want is for me to get accused of murder so you can live in court, you sicko! I WON'T TELL YOU!"
Jack then left, because that was obviously going nowhere fast.
He then sunk to the lowest possible level, and asked (shudder,) the 39 people who had hitched a ride to Pluto on the back of Hale-Bopp, and claimed it was Heaven. They proved more useful, but also more weird.
"Hi, do any of you know where the Great Llama is?" asked Jack, nervously.
"We do not care where this 'Great Llama' of yours is. He has not shed his container, and entered a higher state of being. Where he is is irrelevant," said one of the Hale-Bopp cultists.
"Hey, come on! He has lived on Pluto far longer than any of you have! Also, he is in a much 'higher state of being' than you are! Think about it, you guys. Who is more in touch with his inner llama-llama? You, or a llama-llama himself? He doesn't need to get in touch with his, he IS one! Now, I need to find him. Will you help me or not?" ranted Jack.
"Wow, he has a point, you know..." said one of the cultists. There were murmurs of "Yeah," "Uh-huh," etc. around the room.
Suddenly, the cultists whipped out two-gender neutral llama outfits, and began saying, "Llamallamallama...someone's at the door...llamallama..."
Sure enough they were right, because in burst the Great Llama, who said, "Somebody call me? Aaahh! You're those weird people who think this is Heaven! Go away!"
"We are no longer the Heaven's Gate Cult," the cultists replied in unison (like the Borg,) "We are now the Llarry The Llama Cult. We would be the Great Llama Cult, but we must humble ourselves and not compare ourselves with you. We want you to show us a path to a higher state of being, where we can finally shed these containers that we reside in (again,) and be like you. Llamallamallama..."
The Great Llama thought for a minute, then said, "Well, you are really too weird, but you can try." He then asked Jack why he need him there, and Jack told him about his plans to form the WALRI Association. He said, "It's a good idea, but these days people need a more nifty, formal-sounding name, like 'The Honorable Society Of The WALRI.' Maybe you could start recruiting people off the Internet, or Itsy's society, 'The Groovy Club Of Nifty But Useless Stuff.'
"Wow," thought Jack, "if all goes well, we might be able to get rid of the Evil Cookies, once and for all..."
Over the next three months, Jack, the Great Llama, and the former Heaven's Gate Cult members recruited many, many SPAM-loving people to join The Honorable Society Of The WALRI, until finally it was time to attack the Death-Chip and destroy the Evil Lord Cookie.
Then, just before the Death-Chip was armed, the WALRI came together just as Jack predicted, and destroyed it. When Jack was asked what he thought about his surprisingly accurate predictions, he mearly replied, "Hey, I certainly think that it is peachy-keen! Almost Bully! Have you heard from my slightly dead friend, Polly? Oh, wait, I have to meet myself in the future. Bye everybody!"
"Well," said Jack as he went to see himself from the future. "I suppose this could be a little awkward, after all, what would we talk about? I mean, I already know everything about myself. (Though Freud would disagree)"
I suppose you might be wondering why Jack was going to see himself in the future, well, here it goes. Jack had found out though his Sub-Etha Sens O Matic (an odd little device given to him by a perfectly innocent, not to mention splatted, bowl of petunias, under the promise that if he ever met a certain Arthur Dent, that he would kill this "Arthur" on the spot. Jack had a terrible memory, thought that the petunias said "Mistress Cookie" and accidentally killed her, thus starting the whole Evil Cookie-WALRI conflict.) that a 60 year old version of himself was in the solar system and wanted to see him urgently.
Minutes later, he was waiting for the 60 year old Jack on the Pluto Cheese Factory (put up to help Jack's old friends in the Kingdom Of The Sun with their starving Cheese-weasels) The 60 year old Jack came in mumbling about SPAM, then Jack said,
"Hi."
"I knew you were going to say that. Don't even bother talking, remember -- I know everything about you," said the 60 year old Jack.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" started Jack, but he was sadly interrupted.
"I told you... oh, nevermind! I guess that this conversation will simply be very boring. Hop on the couch and we can talk in a more safe place." interrupted 60 year old Jack. (Henceforth to be referred to as 60 YOJ).
"I don't think that a couch is very safe at all," said Jack.
"It's not just a couch... oh, well, nevermind. You'll figure out what it really is later. All I have to do is put a temporary distortion field around it, and it'll take us somewhere safe, where nobody will hear us."
So, Jack and 60 YOJ hopped onto a couch and were whisked away to the dormant hull of Discovery, still orbiting around Jupiter in 2002.
"Can I reactivate HAL, 60 year old Jack?" asked Jack.
"'Course not. Don't call me that, " said 60 YOJ.
"Why not?" asked Jack.
"No beer and no food make HAL something... something..." replied 60 YOJ.
"Go crazy?"
Suddenly, HAL reactivated himself and shouted, "Don't mind if I do! Asdomakafinckbuzou!" Then he paused for a moment and said, "Nevermind," and shut himself down again.
"Wait a second!" cried Jack. "I we give HAL beer and food (not SPAM, though, SPAM is our friend!) he could be a valuable asset to the WALRI!"
"Could you repeat that 'en anglais'?" complained 60 YOJ. "I haven't read a dictionary in years."
"Let's get HAL drunk!" exclaimed Jack.
Suddenly, Pop appeared. (Remember Pop the Techie?) He screamed, "Let's ALL get drunk!"
Very soon, Pop and a holographic projection of what HAL would look like if he had arms and legs were square dancing, drinking lots of beer, and singing 'The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round!"
"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bring him around," observed Jack.
"Forget about that now," said 60 YOJ. "I have to talk to you."
"About what?" asked Jack.
"Okay Jack... promise me that you won't goof around with the space-time continuum."
"Not likely," answered Jack.
"But... you'll die if you goof with it! Someday you'll miscalculate and end up in the vacuum of space!" implored 60 YOJ.
"Not likely either," replied Jack.
"Ono! Jack, please..." requested 60 YOJ.
Suddenly, outside Discovery, a very, VERY old Jack appeared, and said, "Ha! Ha! I finally reappeared inside the hull of Discovery! Wait a second!...I MISSED! ONO! Darn it! HAL got drunk, and allowed Discovery to drift off course! Oh well, I'll be fine. Wait a second, no I won't!!! I can't breathe out here!!! Mumble mumble mumble! Hey, how can you hear me?! Sound doesn't travel though space! Oh well. Buh-bye now!" And then, Jack died.
"I told you so!" complained 60 YOJ.
"Could I borrow the couch?" asked Jack.
"YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE!!! Oh, alright. Just bring it back before 10:00, and don't dent or scratch it."
"Not likely," replied Jack as he hopped on the sofa and left.
