>The Day the Bulletins Died

>Once upon a time, in the magical land of Myspacia, there lived a young man named Gorni. Gorni, like every other person in Myspacia, was plagued every day by the horrible Bull-tin Hoard. The Bull-tin Hoard came to each individual town every day and ransacked the peoples with their horrible punch lines and their fowl promises. “If you don’t repost this, you will be visited by a dead girl,” some of them say. Others cry out, “Repost! Repost in less than 5 minutes or your one true love will never find you!” Many of the peoples of Myspacia know that the Hoard is full of lies and deciet, but every day the ignorant and the young are pulled in to the false promises of the Bull-tin Hoard. Hundreds lost! From the moment they join the Hoard in one “posting” as they call it, they are forever stranded in their world of terminological inexactitude. They are forced, through the psychological pressure of the Hoard, to post false statements towards all of the other peoples. Many of the poor souls of Myspacia go insane each month, having been forced to hear such nonsense as “posting could lead you to your dream job in life.” It is horrible to see the pain and anguish that each Myspacian goes through every day of their life.

One day a traveler from a far away land came to Myspacia. He saw the torment that was laid upon the peoples of the land and set out to destroy this evil. He set off to the hills. Using techniques he gained from living among the Native tribesmen of the Northern regions, he tracked the Bull-tins back to their dens. When he got there, he hid out until night fall, which is when he would surprise them like a ninja. After all the lights had dimmed, he took his Deleter and slaughtered the entire Bull-tin race, saving the king for last. He grabbed King Thoms cape as he ran and threw him onto the ground. With his Deleter in one hand, and the King in the other, the Bull-tins were extinguished for all times.

The peoples of Myspacia cheered and danced with joy. That night, a great feast was held, in honor of the traveler. They had smoked pork, whole chickens, and a great, big, warm chocolate cake. It was marvelous! The Myspacians called for a toast and then began to chant “Speech, speech, speech, speech…!” The traveler arose from his chair and offered this: “Peoples of Myspacia,” he began his question, “in return for my services, all that I ask is for you to join me in posting the land of Faysh-buk. Tell them this tale.” The peoples were stunned. Was this man actually telling them to post? He had just rid the land of Myspacia of the horrible posting by the Bull-tin Hoard, had he not? And now he wanted them, who were plagued in the past, to force this plague upon another people? One by one they began to refuse the traveler’s request. The traveler warned the people of Myspacia, “if you shall not comply to my demands, a horrible fate will meet you in the night.” His threat was like a drill with no bit. They did not fall for his ply. They gathered together and chased the traveler out of the land.

Later that night, in the lands of Faysh-buk, screams of horror were heard coming from the east. The sky was red as blood and the clouds glowed like the sun. A snow began to fall over the land. It was a snow like ash dumped from a firepit. Many found it hard to breath, and all the peoples were confined to their homes by the horrible snow. The next day, a traveler came to town. He was a world traveler well versed in problems that the Faysh-buks could not comprehend. He offered his services to these people. He wished to help them tear free of this ashen curse. The people were overjoyed that this man, a stranger to the Faysh-buks and their customs, would help them in a dire time of need. The traveler was happy to help. He asked for not but one request…

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