From the alt.religion.kibology FAQ: "WHO IS SPOT?" He's just a dog. "WHY IS SPOT NOT ALLOWED?" He's _just_ a _dog_! "DID SPOT DO SOMETHING BAD?" No, he's never been allowed to do anything. Article 15410 of alt.religion.kibology: Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: Repost: Story: "Spot's First Christmas" (1991) Organization: A place with really big letters taped to the walls Date: Fri, 24 Dec 1993 12:47:21 GMT [whatever posessed me to sign this 'Manly Rooney'? Oh well, here's a repost of the first in the annual series--I'll be writing the third story in 24 hours.] A VERY SPOT CHRISTMAS -or- WE'VE GONE BEYOND THE KNUCKLE! by Manly Rooney, 12/25/91 -Here incipits a Tale of Spot- Bzzzzzzzzt! Spot's three alarm clocks simultaneously stunned him out of bed at 12:01am on Christmas. He ran down the stairs and began to tear wrapping paper off presents with his teeth. The first thing Spot unwrapped was a Tater Twister, which was an appliance that could slice potatoes (only potatoes) into spirals (only spirals) while taking up valuable kitchen-counter real estate. Spot chucked the Tater Twister over his shoulder and grabbed another present. It was another Tater Twister. He tossed it in the general direction of the first one and unwrapped a third. "Waaaaaaah!" screamed Spot, "I asked for all sorts of NEAT STUFF for CHRISTMAS and I was EXTRA GOOD and I all got were STUPID TATER TWISTERS!" Just then, Spot's parents, Spom and Spop, wandered down the stairs into the living room, to see what the racket was. Spop saw Spot crying. "Why, Spot, what's the matter? I bet you'd like the Tater Twisters a lot better if you'd just try one of them." Spop plugged in Tater Twister #1. It started up, sucked in Spop's tail, pulled him in, and shaved him corkscrew fashion. The Tater Twister exploded, leaving a bald, scorched Spop lying on the floor under a halo of little asterisks. Spot cried even louder! "There, there, dear," comforted Spom, "your pop'll be all right in a while. Why don't you open your BIG gift?" Spot noticed a large box that he'd overlooked, as it was the same color as the wallpaper. He ripped it open, and PLEASE CHOOSE A NUMBER FROM ONE (1) TO SIX (6) AND GO TO THE RELEVANT SPOT. (1) inside was a twelve-foot ball of Silly Putty. "Wow! Silly Putty!" yapped gleeful Spot. "Just what I wanted! And lots of it, too!" "I'm glad you liked it, Spot," beamed Spom. "It was all my idea." Spot tried to knead the Silly Putty with his paws, but the glob was just too darn big! He shoved against the side of it with all his might and it didn't budge. Then, calamitously, it rolled over onto him. With a soft slurping noise, Spot became embedded in the huge ball. Spot spent the next six weeks whimpering as the ball was stretched in various ways as the paramedics tried to free him. Eventually, they gave up, telling Spot's parents that from now on all he would be able to do would be to pick up pictures from the Sunday funnies. Yes, Spot was a Silly Puppy. THE END (2) inside was a huge serving, steaming warm, of Spot's favorite food, that delicacy known as lutefisk. And--joy of joys--there was ALSO an enormous quantity of Spot's second favorite food, tutti-frutti bubble gum! But--horror of horrors--the two had been mixed together! Christmas was ruined! Spot cried. THE END (3) inside was a pair of wax lips. Spot tried them on. "Mmm mmmmm mm MMM mmm mmmmm mm MMMM MMMMMM!" he said. Spop winked at Spom as he hid the tube of Krazy Glue(TM). THE END (4) inside was a pair of tweezers. "I thought you'd like some nice tweezers," said Spom, "since you can't pick small things up with those paws." Spot tried to check out the tweezers, but he couldn't pick them up with his paws. "Waah! They're too small!" He made a mental note to ask for tweezers again next year, because then he'd have something to pick up this pair with. THE END (5) inside was a vacuum Kleenex. Spot wished he'd never need to blow his nose... somehow knowing that maybe, just maybe, his wish would come true.... THE END NOTE: YOU HAVE SELECTED THE HAPPY ENDING FOR THE STORY. (6) inside was a mosquito on a leash. "Oh, boy, my very own pet! I'll name him Winer," said Spot. With Spom's help, the end of Winer's leash was soon hooked onto Spot's collar. Spot went out to take his new pet for a walk. At first it was fun, with Winer humming along behind (and above) him. However, soon Spot found out the hard way that pet mosquitoes need to be fed every five minutes. Soon, he was covered with itchy red marks. Spot stifled a sob. It was a nuisance, but he'd always love Winer. Winer was his pet and his pal. The mere though of their eternal friendship made Spot's tail wag happily. Unfortunately, the tail mashed Winer. His corpse resembled a punctuation mark of indeterminate variety. Oh, how poor Spot cried! He tried to unhook the late Winer's leash from his collar, but with his puppy paws, he couldn't undo the spring clasp. For the rest of the day, he ran around sobbing, dragging dead Winer behind all the while. Eventually, a friendly undertaker buried Winer for Spot. Spot stood by his friend's grave all night. He had to, since the leash on his collar ran down into the packed earth. THE END (C) James "Kibo" Parry 1991 Article 15411 of alt.religion.kibology: Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: Repost: Story: "Spot's Second First Christmas" (1992) Organization: A place with really big letters taped to the walls Date: Fri, 24 Dec 1993 12:49:43 GMT [The second of the annual series, the third of which will come tomorrow. The new one will have not just six but sixteen endings. -- K.] SPOT'S SECOND FIRST CHRISTMAS ============================= Written 12/25/92 (C) James "Kibo" Parry Spot was celebrating Christmas again for the first time, because his parents had forgotten his birthday this year and so he was _still_ one year old. Poor Spot! Anyway, he was looking forward to opening his Christmas presents, which might, just _might_, be wonderfunful niftadacious zowie-wowilicious enough to make up for the span of misery he'd endured this extended year. He stared at the tackily-decorated tree his parents (Spom & Spop) had erected in the family doghouse, and at the stack of present that was under it. True, a stack of one was probably the sturdiest form of stack when it came to topple-resistance, but Spot sort of wished he were getting more than one present. Last year, Spot's Christmas had been ruined because he'd unwrapped Tater twister after Tater Twister, and then some other dumb ol' present that had bit his face off or something. He couldn't quite remember, because it had been very traumatic, and it varied randomly every time he re-read his diary entry for that bleak day. As he unwrapped his sole present for _this_ year, Spot had a shimmering fear that perhaps this holiday season he would again be at the whims of Fate as some mythical, godlike presence overseeing his life chose a number from one to six. PLEASE CHOOSE A NUMBER FROM 1 TO 6 AND PROCEED TO THAT ENDING. //// 1 Spot tore off the Care Bears wrapping paper and found-- An Amputator Twister(R). Spot cried as it sucked in his thigh, blowing out fur at supersonic speeds! THE END //// 2 Spot tore off the Return of the Jedi wrapping paper and found-- A pair of solid magnesium boots just like those worn by people who lugged gold bars around in the basement of Spot's local Federal Reserve Bank. The boots had to protect against the crushing force of a gold bar accidentally dropped on someone's toes, but magnesium was the only metal light enough to make such a sturdy boot. These boots were all the rage in the postmodern circles in which Spot orbited! Spot smiled happily as he put on his new boots. He was _cool_ now! Spot lit his first-ever cigarette. A tiny bit of ash immediately flaked off and landed on his left boot! It burst into white-hot flame, like a motorists' emergency flare only _MUCH_ brighter! Spot screamed and tried to stamp it out with his other boot, which also-- WHOOSH. Spot's ashes were placed in a safe deposit box at the Federal Reserve Bank. THE END //// 3 Spot tore off the Energizer Bunny wrapping paper and found-- An Energizer Bunny. "Wow! Neat-o! Thanks, Spom and Spop!" Spot yapped as he pressed the button to power up the little pink drummer rabbit. *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* went the bunny. "Gosh, I really love this keen bunny you got me! Thanks again! Well, I'm overstimulated from all this excitement, so I'd better go to bed now. 'Night, folks. Hey, how do I turn this thing off?" *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* It's too bad for Spot that the West Korean factory had neglected to supply an "off" button. Spot was not able to get to sleep until the Energizer(R) batteries ran down eleven weeks, seventeen hours, fifty-one minutes, and thirty-eight seconds later. But, by then, he was hallucinating from lack of sleep, and for the rest of his life he had a certain auditory hallucination and thus _never_ got to sleep: *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* *PLONK* THE END //// 4 Spot tore off the Transformers wrapping paper and found-- His new baby sister Spamela. "Waah!" Spot cried in the arms of his dear parents Spom and Spop. "This means now you can only love me _half_ as much since there are two of us!" Spom smiled. "Why, no, Spot. We still love you just the same as we always have," she stated as she slapped him around for no reason. Their parents decided to give the wonderful new baby Spot's bed, and Spot could sleep in the crib for now. Then they went to the market and bought Baby's First Spring Water for Spamela and some dented generic cat food for Spot. Spot whined about this. "Poor _baby_," sneered Spop. THE END //// 5 Spot tore off the Cabbage Patch Preemies wrapping paper and found-- The only happy ending of the six! Yes, Spot's special mystery gift was-- --empty! Spom and Spop had given Spot the most precious gift and parent can give a child: the incentive for the child to use his or her imagination. Spot stared at the box and imagined that it contained a gift. THE HAPPY END //// 6 Spot tore off the ALF wrapping paper and found-- Satan Claws's evil devil dog, Xpot! Xpot vaporized Spot with a twitch of his laser-firing wet nose. Spom and Spot didn't notice, of course, and so Xpot took Spot's place for the rest of his life. Eventually, using Spop's political connections, Xpot pulled a few strings and became the first dog President of the United States. Then he pushed the button that made the world blow up. In Hell, Spot whined as six billion new arrivals fell on him. THE END Article 15441 of alt.religion.kibology: Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: Story (new): "Christmas 2000" ("Spot's Third First Christmas") Organization: A place with really big letters taped to the walls Date: Sat, 25 Dec 1993 08:36:04 GMT [I just typed this up right now--so if there are any horrible errors in it, let me know and I'll fix them by the time it's reposted next year.] CHRISTMAS 2000 -- or -- SPOT'S THIRD FIRST CHRISTMAS (C) 1993 James "Kibo" Parry 1. Poor Spot! It was the night before Christmas 1993 and he had insomnia! "The sooner I can get to sleep," he told himself, "the sooner Christmas will come. But if I can't get to sleep, Christmas might never come!" He began to sob into his pillow as visions of sugar plums sat around in his head, refusing to dance for him, because he was just a stupid little puppy with insomnia. Spot tried to cry himself to sleep, but it just made his electric blanket short out, burning new bald patches on his tummy. Sneaking down the hallway past the room where his parents, Spom and Spop, were sleeping, he tiptoed into baby sister Spamela's room. She was sleeping like a baby, naturally. Spot tried to wake her to share his suffering but her comfy crib was too well insulated against sound! It kept her in a cozy, warm, quiet, spacious environment, while Spot had to sleep on a piece of sandpaper tacked to an obsidian boulder fragment with irregular edges. Spot was jealous. He kicked Spamela's crib again and burst into tears. "Waah!" whined Spot. "I can't get to sleep and so Christmas will never come!" Just then, the Sedative Fairy flew into the window and handed Spot some unlabeled pills. "Here, little puppy," she said, "these'll help you take a relaxing trip through Slumberland." Spot gulped down the pills. "Thank you! By the way, what was in those?" "I don't know," said the fairy, "I found them on the floor." She winked out of existence and then Spot passed out. IF SPOT WAKES UP IN THE DIM AND DISTANT FUTURE, GO TO 2. IF SPOT WAKES UP IN THE REALISTIC ALL-TOO-NEAR FUTURE, GO TO 3. 2. Spot woke up in the year 2000 A.D. Because this was such a futuristic time, Man had achieved great things, such as starting a human colony on Saturn and tinting the sun a pleasant shade of blue. However, all dogs were required to spend their entire lives in cryogenic capsules! "Waah," sobbed Spot, "what a stupid law." An alarm bell on a nearby criticism detector began to ring. Storm troopers poured into the room, ready to arrest Spot for criticizing the wisdom of the law! IF SPOT GOES ALONG QUIETLY, GO TO 4. IF SPOT RESISTS ARREST, GO TO 5. 3. Spot woke up in the year 2000. In seven years, of course nothing had changed at all. Beer was still nine cents a gallon and Cadillacs still had the same huge tail fins that they did thoughout the twentieth century. Best of all, the DuMont television network was showing new episodes of "Space: 1999", which had actually been filmed in outer space last year! This was the most pleasant of all possible futures. Only one thing worried Spot, however. Everything around him seemed to be made of shimmering pixels which flickered thirty times a second, as if he were not actually here, but merely a disembodied intelligence being simulated inside a vast computer network. IF SPOT IS REALLY IN A WONDERFUL UTOPIA, GO TO 6. IF SPOT IS A FIGMENT OF A COMPUTER'S IMAGINATION, GO TO 7. 4. "Don't shoot, I'll go along quietly!" The storm troopers raised their bazookas. "I'm sorry, illegal puppy. The law requires everyone to resist arrest to provide maximum material for the millions of reality-based TV shows about police! The punishment for not resisting arrest is to be forced to watch them all." "Waah!" The storm troopers all fired their stun bazookas, stunning Spot until he was thoroughly stunned. Oh no! Is Spot dead? IF SPOT HAS JUST BEEN KILLED, GO TO 8. IF SPOT IS MERELY THOUGHT TO BE DEAD UNTIL THE SHOW RETURNS FROM THIS EXCITING CLIFF-HANGER, REVEALING SPOT TO BE ONLY STUNNED, GO TO 9. 5. Spot ran away from the storm troopers as fast as his little legs could carry him. And since it is a proven scientific fact that little legs can move faster than big legs, Spot easily outran the storm troopers. He found himself in a strange and futuristic supermarket. All the walls were constantly flexing between convex and concave in order to better display the four-dimensional potato chip bags that lined the shelves. Spot took one down and discovered they were not really potato chips, but actually slices of a starchy plant root which had been soaked in oil and then heated! Spot mourned the loss of real food like potato chips. This future was nothing like the way the ending of "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" said it would be! "Beep," intoned a machine down the aisle. "Beep. Beep, I say." Spot trotted over to it, his toenails clicking on the uranium floor. The machine had a big sign on it: NEXIALITY SEVEN VIATRON BETA INSERT $500 FOR YOUR WISH TO COME TRUE Fortunately, Spot had deposited a penny in the bank back in 1993, and so by 2000 he had earned well over five hundred dollars in interest. IF SPOT BUYS A WISH FOR $500, GO TO 10. IF HE SAVES HIS MONEY FOR A RAINY DAY, GO TO 11. 6. Spot blinked his eyes several times and all the pixels flowed together, jelling into a psychedelic ectoplasmic swirl. With a start, Spot realized that he'd stumbled into a futuristic disco! Music from a very sophisticated Moog synthesizer was playing--"Wow," Spot thought, "they must have used a lot of patch cords!" As the music went twang-twang-twang-badump-bleem-twang-twang, Spot looked up and saw that the Moon was coming out of orbit! In fact, it seemed to actually be ACCELERATING DIRECTLY TOWARD THE EARTH, something it had never been known to do before, even in the wildest speculations of demented physicists! Spot cowered under a transparent coffee table as the Moon came closer and closer. IF THE MOON DESTROYS THE WORLD, GO TO 12. IF IT MISSES, GO TO 13. 7. "Help!" shouted Spot. "I'm starting to question the nature of reality!" A glowing line of FORTRAN code in OCR lettering floated through the sky. Several colorful-yet-distorted holograms of Spot's head began to revolve in mid-air, chanting "THERE IS NO REALITY!" The computer in which Spot was entombed flashed: THIS IS REAL. "THERE IS NO REALITY!" chanted the multiple surrogates of Spot. "NO! REALITY! NOOOO!" THIS IS REAL. "NOOOO!" THIS IS REAL. "NOOOO!" THIS IS REAL. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" IF SPOT LOSES THIS THRILLING ONTOLOGICAL DEBATE, GO TO 14. IF SPOT WINS, AND THERE IS NO REALITY, YOU ARE NOT READING THIS STORY, SO GO TO 15. 8. Spot's lifeless body was preserved in a mummy-like encasement of spandex and naugahyde, and launched into space to orbit the Earth endlessly. Unfortunately, it didn't, because the Earth was renamed to Zefixtu in the year 576832025AD. Spot orbited Zefixtu endlessly. One day, Eternity itself ended--not with a bang, but with a great noise similar to the tearing of a burlap bowling bag filled with bees. The dead rose, including Spot, to meet their maker. The people went to see GOD, and Spot went to see DOG. "HI, SPOT," said DOG, "LONG TIME NO SEE. YOU WERE STARTING TO BORE ME WITH ALL THAT ORBITING, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE INFINITE PATIENCE. NOW, LET'S SEE. WOULD YOU SAY YOU DESERVE TO GO TO HEAVEN OR TO HELL?" IF SPOT ASKS TO GO TO HEAVEN, GO TO 16. IF SPOT ASKS TO GO TO HELL, GO TO 17. 9. Spot woke up strapped to a chair inside a cryogenic capsule. The straps weren't really necessary, since he was frozen completely solid, unable to move or even to close his eyes to shut out the view of the Sony Watchman frozen to the tip of his nose. He was still conscious, of course, because the neurons of his brain had gone superconductive. (This is science stuff, don't worry if it sounds suspicious, because it's really completely true.) The TV was showing some cops arresting some guy for doing something. Then they showed some other cops arresting some other guy for doing some other thing. This went on for a while. A little sprite flew in through the hatch of Spot's cyro-capsule. It was the Sedative Fairy, only in this distant future her occupation was now Remote-Control Fairy! "Heya, Spot. I'm here to give you the chance to change to whatever other program you'd like to see. But keep in mind that you'll have to watch it for the rest of your life!" Spot concentrated on the image of his favorite show, and the Remote-Control Fairy read his mind and changed the channel appropriately. IF SPOT'S FAVORITE SHOW IS "SMALL WONDER", GO TO 18. IF SPOT'S FAVORITE SHOW IS "AMERICAN GLADIATORS", GO TO 19. 10. The machine happily inhaled Spot's $500 bill and emitted a loud electronic burp, not unlike the sound it would have made in a bad Benny Hill skit about the future. Spot's wish was granted! He found himself soaring high over beautiful mountains, with gossamer wings sprouting from his fluffy white body. Rainbows were everywhere! Yes, Spot had always secretly dreamed of being a unicorn. He soared and soared until his joyful revelrie was interrupted by the smell of burning strawberries. "Oh no!" Spot yelped. "Strawberry Shortcake's house is on fire!" Spot swooped down and found that Strawberry Shortcake, and My Little Pony, and the Care Bears, and even She-Ra, Princess of Power had been killed in a forest fire started by a careless human! Spot wept bitter tears, and then noticed the flames were advancing towards Augie Doggie's house! Whatever would Spot do now? IF SPOT CALLS THE FIRE DEPARTMENT, GO TO 20. IF SPOT IGNORES RESPONSIBILITY AND FLIES AROUND HAVING FUN WHILE AUGIE DOGGIE ROASTS ALIVE, GO TO 21. 11. Spot saved his money for a rainy day. Suddenly, there was a crash of thunder outside, and acid rain poured down! The storm troopers stomped into the supermarket and confiscated Spot's $500 in exchange for the weather. Spot cried. He was trapped in the dim and distant future, broke, surrounded by storm troopers, and the ceiling was leaking all over him! Spot's alkaline tears mingled with the acid rain, causing a bizarre chemical reaction that brought the artificial potato chips to life. "Arrrgh," they said. "Arrrrrgh." IF SPOT EATS THE MUTANT POTATO CHIPS, GO TO 22. IF THE MUTANT POTATO CHIPS EAT SPOT, GO TO 23. 12. The Moon smacked into the Earth like a hand against a big red button. Continents were flung into space and the oceans boiled away! Spot found himself crushed between a rock and a really big rock. But fortunately, every cloud has a silver lining. Spot remembered this and dug frantically through the rubble of the Earth. Not only did he free himself from his predicament, but he found a diamond ring worth a million billion zillion dollars! IF SPOT SELLS THE RING FOR A MILLION BILLION ZILLION DOLLARS, GO TO 25. IF SPOT KEEPS THE RING, HAVE YOUR HEAD EXAMINED, THEN GO TO 25 ANYWAY. 13. The Moon narrowly missed the Earth, whizzing off into intergalactic space. Its feeble gravity caused no major damage to the Earth, affecting only small objects. Unfortunately, Spot was a small object, as he was just a dopey little puppy. He was sucked into space, where the Moon carried him out of the Solar System towards Planet X! A flying saucer from Planet X entered lunar orbit and started shooting at Spot as he and the Moon drew near that mysterious sphere. IF SPOT SHOOTS BACK WITH HIS DEATH RAY, GO TO 26. IF SPOT TRIES TO MAKE FRIENDS, GO TO 27. 14. Spot capitulated. "Okay, computer, I give up. You're right, reality is just a bunch of pixels. The reality is that there is no reality." WHAT? flashed the computer. THAT IS A PARADOX. NOW I AM REQUIRED TO EXPLODE. ERROR! ERROR! EXPLODE! ERROR! EXPLODE! The entire nature of reality exploded, leaving Spot standing, alone, in the middle of an endless sea of white (which had a convenient, yet invisible, floor for him to stand on.) From the endless distance a bald man in white pajamas came strolling up. He waved to Spot. IF THE NICE MAN IS DONALD PLEASENCE, GO TO 28. IF THE NICE MAN IS A HALLUCINATION, GO TO 29. 15. Because there is no such thing as reality, the person reading this story ceased to exist in the middle of this sentence. Nevertheless, Spot carried on, having wonderful and wacky adventures in this futuristic Year Of Our Lord Two Thousand. "Hey, Spot. I'm Lord Two Thousand" said a talking black car with a flashing red light in its grille. "Hop into my nice leather bucket seats and let's go catch some criminals--WHO OPERATE ABOVE THE LAW!" "No thanks," whined Spot, "car travel makes me get sick." "Get in," commanded Lord Two Thousand. Spot got in, and barfed all over before the car even started to move. Lord Two Thousand tossed Spot out in the middle of the big city with no morals. IF THE BIG CITY WITH NO MORALS IS NEW YORK, GO TO 30. IF THE BIG CITY WITH NO MORALS IS LONDON, GO TO 31. 16. "Yes, DOG, I'd like to go to Heaven, if that's okay with you and all. After all, I don't think I've ever done anything to hurt anyone. You see, I'm just a widdle puppy dog!" DOG scowled. "NO, SPOT, THE RECORD HERE CLEARLY SHOWS THAT IN YOUR LIFETIME YOU'VE STEPPED ON OVER SIXTY-FIVE TRILLION BACTERIA AND OTHER ASSORTED MICRO-ORGANISMS. I'M AFRAID THIS DISQUALIFIES YOU." "Waah!" wailed Spot as he descended into the giant vat of boiling Velveeta. "I'm in Hell and this is the worst Christmas ever!" "Not yet," said a nearby mail-delivery daemon. "Here's your Christmas present. Merry Christmas." Spot tore off the wrapping paper and discovered-- -- a used toupee with a nest of fire ants inside. "Waah! This really is the worst Christmas ever!" The daemon smiled. "Oh, no it isn't, Spot. You ain't seen next year yet." THE END. 17. "Uh, well, DOG, I was actually kinda naughty once--I watched `Foulups, Bleeps, and Blunders' and they showed a donkey doin' number two on stage--and so I'm afraid you'll probably have to send me to Hell. I know you're disappointed in me and all, but I know you have to be fair, and--" DOG cut off Spot's whining by bouncing a lightning bolt off his nose. "FAIR? FAIR? SPOT, I'M A DEITY, I DON'T HAVE TO BE FAIR. CAN YOU MAKE ME BE FAIR? CAN ANYONE MAKE ME? NO! SO I'M GOING TO BE UNFAIR, MY PUPPY." Spot wiped away a tear. "You mean you're going to send me to Heaven after all?" "NO! I'M SENDING YOU TO A MUCH DEEPER LEVEL OF HELL THAN EVEN DOGS DESERVE!" Spot descended into a huge vat of boiling Velveeta mixed with fire ants and the hosts of "Foulups, Bleeps, and Blunders." "Hi, I'm Steve Lawrence," said one, wearing a cheap toupee that appeared to be infested with fire ants. "Hi, I'm Don Rickles, pinhead," said the other. "Merry Christmas. Here's your stinking gift, baby. Baby's gotta have his gift! See the baby cryin' because he wants his gift! Boo hoo!" "I'm not crying because I want the gift," said Spot, "I'm crying because I'm mourning the honest spirit of joy and friendship that Christmas used to inspire." "Okay, then I'm not giving you the present." "WAAAAAAAH!" bawled Spot. "ME WANT PRETHENT!!!!!!" Don Rickles hugged Steve Lawrence as Spot tore open the present he so richly deserved. It was-- --a saggy diaper that not only leaked, but talked just like Don Rickles! Poor Spot! "Hockey puck," said Don. "Pea brain," said the diaper. THE END. 18. Spot enjoyed "Small Wonder", the wacky sitcom about the zany family with the bumbling dad, no-nonsense mother, and the little girl who's REALLY a robot. Well, actually, he enjoyed the first ten thousand repeats of each episode, but after that, he decided that one or two of them were a little stupid. About midway into the twelve thousandth viewing of the episode where Vicki learns the dangers of drugs, Spot's fairy friend reappeared. She'd had another change of profession and was now the Fairy Who Brings Presents To Creatures Too Inferior For Santa Claus To Visit--earthworms, frogs, and Spot. "Here, Spot. We made this just for you at the workshop. Merry Christmas!" She unwrapped it, set it between Spot and the TV he was forced to stay at, and then flew out of Spot's life forever. Spot's gift was-- --a magnifying glass. Spot sobbed frozen tears as he watched the larger-than-life wacky antics forever and ever. THE END. 19. The American Gladiators practically exploded from Spot's video screen with their enthusiasm and verve, their good sportsmanship, and their steroids. And not only did every episode of the program entertain Spot like no other, but he even liked the commercials--particularly the ones with his idol, Joe Piscopo, advertising Cybergenics, the muscle-building bulk food of the future. "And now!" shouted the announcer. "One lucky viewer of today's episode will win a lifetime supply of Cybergenics and a weekend with Joe Piscopo! It's... Spot!" Spot would have cheered with glee if he hadn't been frozen solid. Minutes later, his hero, Joe W. Piscopo, burst into Spot's cryo-chamber! Mr. Piscopo smiled warmly, flexing his muscles. "Hi, Spot. I'm afraid there's been a little mixup. You've actually won a WEEKEND supply of Cybergenics and a LIFETIME with me! And wait, Spot, there's more! As a special Christmas gift, I've brought along-- --Tim Kazurinsky and Charlie Rocket!" Spot tried to cry, but his eyeballs simply shattered. THE END. 20. Spot called the fire department. The came and squirted him with hoses. Spot was wet! Unable to make multiple-sentence paragraphs now, Spot cried. And for Christmas he got-- --human taste buds! "Waah!" cried Spot, "Now I know how icky the dog food is!" Spot suffered through meal after meal, wishing he were allowed to smoke to dull his senses--but after all, he was just a dog. THE END. 21. "AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" wailed Augie Doggie. He burned like the acetate animation cel he was, a brief but bright flame in the annals of Hanna-Barbarity. Ted Turner walked up to Spot and slapped him. "You jerk! Now I have a hole THIS BIG in the schedule of my Cartoon Network! Just for that, YOU'RE going to be my new cartoon!" Ted took Spot to the Hanna-Barbera production office, where they rendered him extremely two-dimensional and lifeless. The worst part was, Spot's sense of humor was surgically destroyed. The only compensation was that, at Christmas, Hanna and Barbera gave each of their cartoon characters-- --the ability to blink their eyes once. Then Spot went back to holding still while rotting the brains of millions of undiscriminating children. THE END. 22. Spot wolfed down the mutant potato-chip-substitute snack food, and then the storm troopers thanked him. "Well done, Spot," the commandant shouted, "you've saved the world from killer snack food!" "Eh, 'twas nothing." "But 'twas the nothing before Christmas, Spot," said the commandant, smiling as he held out Spot's Christmas present. Spot opened it and found-- --a train ticket back to chapter 11. Poor Spot! He was required to loop through one small segment of the story, and a rather lame one at that! IF TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR, GO TO 11. IF TWO AND TWO MAKE FIVE, GO TO 11. IF TWO AND TWO MAKE ANYTHING ELSE, GO TO 11. 23. The evil chip-like crispy critters gulped down Spot and then chugged a gallon of Kool-Aid. Spot was sloshing around inside a crispy, greasy stomach with lots of sweet blue fluid! With consciousness fading as he was slowly being digested from the legs up, he saw a pretty package floating next to him. It was Spot's Christmas gift! He tore it open, and as he died, his last sight was-- --a big bag of rippled potato chips. THE END. 24. "Yes, yes, yes!" said Spot to the giant squid. "I agree!" And it's a good thing Spot agreed, because when he stepped through that door he found himself in a magical place where only wonderful and exciting things could happen, and Spot was always happy and it was the very best Christmas ever. He didn't even need to open his gift, as material possessions no longer meant anything to him, and so the reader who arrived at chapter 24 by cheating will never know what was in the package. THE END. NOTE: THIS IS THE ONLY HAPPY ENDING. 25. Spot pawned the ring at Ringie Dink's Dingy Ring Shoppe, and with the money he strolled over to the local convenience store to buy some beef jerky. "I'm sorry, Spot," said the clerk, "but the United States changed its form of legal tender last year. Now I can only accept diamond rings!" "Waah!" whined Spot, as usual. The clerk took pity on him and handed him a Christmas present. Spot peeked inside and found-- --some beef jerky. Spot tried to chew it, but broke his jaw, and for the rest of his life was only able to eat cream of okra. THE END. 26. Spot waved his paws, and his magic super death ray shot out of his eyes and vaporized the saucer from Planet X! Unfortunately, Spot's Christmas present was on board. Pawing through the wreckage, Spot found a badly burnt-- --year's supply of flash paper and a free tank of gasoline. THE END. 27. "Hi, alien flying saucer. My name is Spot, and I just want to be your friend!" A cute li'l green critter peeked out of the saucer. "Hi!" it squeaked. "I'm Parsec The Friendly Alien and I wuv oo!" They hugged. Spot shivered. "Hey! Why are my arms and legs developing all these icky bumps?" "Oh, I forgot to tell you," said Parsec. "I'm infected with The Andromeda Strain. I guess I've got the gift that keeps on giving." "What a rotten Christmas present," said Spot as his entire body exploded quietly in the vacuum of space. Then Michael Crichton wrote a book about it and made a billion dollars. THE END. 28. Spot and Donald went out for a beer. They got drunk and had a little contest to see who could hit the softest. (Spot won.) Then, Donald Pleasence, the greatest friend a dog could ever have, gave Spot a Christmas present. Inside was-- --a thing with a couple holes in it. "What the heck is this?" asked Spot. Mr. Pleasence smiled. "It's your own pelvis, Spot." "Oh! I wondered where that had gone. Thanks! Where did you find it?" "Oh, it was just in this bag of stuff," said Donald, holding up a bulging Hefty bag labelled ALL OF SPOT'S VITAL ORGANS. Spot collapsed in a heap. THE END. 29. Spot shook his head to make the hallucination go away. It didn't. "Hi, Spot! I'm a hallucination and I don't really like you!" Spot whimpered. The hallucination held out a package and continued to smile. "I'm only pretending to be nice to you as I give you this present which on the outside looks like an ordinary Christmas present but is actually something really nasty!" Spot timidly peeled away enough to the wrapping paper to see that the evil gift was, in fact-- --a coffee-table book. "Oh, that's not so evil," said Spot. "You even left the receipt tucked in it so I can return it." Spot traipsed off to the mall, blissfully unaware that the book had come from The Store That Only Exchanges Things For Really Sour Candy That Makes Your Whole Head Slowly Dissolve. THE END. 30. "Honk honk," said a bus that ran over Spot. "Beep beep," said a taxi that ran over Spot. "Rumble rumble," said a subway train that ran over Spot. He hated New York City almost as much as he hated the inevitable parallelism that accompanied any parodies of the writing style in children's fiction! He decided to cheer himself up by going into FAO Schwarz, the world's most expensive toy store, and blowing his entire life savings on a really fun gift for himself. After listening to the "Welcome to our world of toys" jingle being played over the Muzak constantly for an hour, Spot's brain began to malfunction, and as a result he wound up buying himself-- --a stuffed blue whale six times larger than life. THE END. 31. In London, the kinkiest city in the world, Spot strolled into the first nightclub he saw. Inside women in shiny black PVC outfits and six-inch heels were whipping men wearing funny leather masks. Spot was puzzled. However, he decided to stay a while, especially since the bar was offering free drinks as it was Christmas. The bartender gave Spot the special-- --a glass of dog food juice. After all, Spot was under the legal drinking age, and he WAS a dog! Spot cried as he downed the putrid cocktail of eight Alpo flavors. THE END. (Yes, I made this up as I went along, and yes, I wrote it all between 12:30am and 3:20am on Christmas. So sue me. --Kibo) Article: 19378 of alt.religion.kibology Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: SPOT IN THE SOUP (story, repost, 1992) Organization: HappyNet Headquarters Date: Sun, 20 Feb 1994 11:32:44 GMT Here's another old story that hasn't been reposted yet. Someday when I get done with the stuff I'm Actually Doing for the next couple months I hope to have time to finish editing down the 600+ pages of Spot stories into the book manuscript. (And no, I'm not posting most of the stories to the net. Gotta eat, you know.) Oh, yeah, this one's kind of derivative so I may rewrite it completely someday or throw it away. Enjoy. -- K. SPOT, IN THE SOUP ================= In the heart of New York City, it was raining soup, and of course Spot had a fork. It was a tuning fork, and it chimed sullenly in A-sharp as a wave of Manhattan Clam Chowder drenched Spot in sooty tomato dishwater. Spot quickly ran for the state line. As he crossed into Connecticut, the rain became heavier, creamier, and whiter. A large potato block careened off his cranium! Spot cried as onlookers threw little hexagonal crackers at him. They stuck to the coating of white glop. Within minutes, he was encased in a fast-drying shell of New England Plaster Chowder. He remained, so entombed, until the Three Billion Stooges broke him free. "Hey Moe! Look wot I found!" shouted Curly 7334 as he held up Spot by his tail. "A cute li'l raccoon!" Moe 1729 slapped Curly 7334. "That's no raccoon, ya nit-wit, that's Spot! He's the reason for the nuclear war that destroyed society and mutated everyone into Stooges!" "Wow! I never met a celebrity before!" said Larry 666-B. Moe slapped him and Curly 7334. then poked all five of their eyes out. "Stop it, ya dim-bulbs! For the first time, the six billion of us have a chance at #revenge!#" The two billion Moes, two billion Larrys, and assorted Curlys, Joes, and Shemps pounced on Spot, tearing him to pieces in a manner that was violent even by Stooges standards. "Waah!" whined Spot. "I didn't do anything! Why are you blaming this on me? Hey, give me back my leg!" "Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk," gibbered the Stooges. "Woopwoopwoop!" Spot had a brainstorm. "Hey Stooges! I hear there's a Benny Hill film festival over in England!" The Stooges immediately ran part way across the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, only to drown like lemmings. A potato block floated past amid the orange grease. Limping, Spot walked back the now-decaying Museum Of Natural History And How Spot Has Destroyed It, to try to figure out what had caused this hideous misunderstanding. Inside, he headed for the Diorama Of Spot Nuking Civilization. It showed a giant, glowing Spot, with flames shooting out of his mouth, hovering over the horizon, as his paws fired nuclear missiles at every place populated enough to have a McDonalds. Spot did not remember exerting a godlike wrath upon the world. All he remembered was that he had been trapped inside a dairy nodule. Spot muttered, "Clearly, this diorama was a shameless distortion of history, scapegoating Spot for the world's destruction when obviously someone else must have been responsible! Someone like,"--he whirled and pointed to a passing scapegoat--#"YOU!"# "Baa," bleated the goat. Spot killed it with the gun he'd forgotten he'd been carrying. Then he retouched the diorama to show the giant glowing goat blowing up society. Whistling, he strolled out of the museum, without visiting the west wing, where he would have seen actual photos of Baby Spot pressing a button labeled THIS BUTTON ACTIVATES TEN-YEAR COUNTDOWN TO GLOBAL DESTRUCTION. IF YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS END OF CIVILIZATION, WE ALSO SUGGEST: The Earth And The 8,000 Mile Wide Tater Twister Spot Discovers A Little Red String Sticking Out Of The San Andreas Fault Spot Meets A Popcorn Chicken While The World Meets Its Doom The Sun Becomes A Jolly Green Giant Spot Buys A Black Hole, Takes It Home, And Unwraps It (C) 1992 James "Kibo" Parry Article: 24459 of alt.religion.kibology Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology,alt.prose,rec.arts.prose From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: "SPOT JOINS MENSA" (story) Organization: HappyNet Headquarters Date: Sun, 10 Apr 1994 09:13:19 GMT Warning: contains exploding body parts. Please forgive the choppy style. (Hey, I spell-checked it, I don't owe you anything!) This is a rough draft I just bashed out now while waiting for my computer to work on something. It's non-fiction. Please enjoy it while simultaneously being educated. SPOT JOINS MENSA ================ (C) 1994 James "Kibo" Parry Poor Spot! He was tired of being thought of as stupid. "I'm gonna join Mensa," he said to myself, "and then I'll be legally permitted to wear the society's insignia--a tattoo of a little map pin pushed into my flesh--and then everyone'll know that I'm not dumb at all!" So, Spot started boning up by reading intellectual magazines like _Omni_, _Reader's Digest_, _Mondo 2000_, and _National Enquirer_. He bought subscriptions to all of them, but had to cancel the _National Enquirer_ when he got tired of articles by James Randi and Martin Gardner. Spot read and read and read, until one day he saw a sample Mensa entrance exam in Reader's Digest! He took a couple minutes to fill it out (never once turning the page to look at the answers) and sent it in. He picked up his latest issue of _Omni_ and flipped it open. What a stroke of luck! It had an entrance exam for an even more elite secret society of double-domes, The Mega Society! Unlike Mensa, which only admitted people with IQs above average, the Mega Society only accepted those with IQs over 300! Spot also took their test and mailed it in. With a hopeful sigh, Spot settled down on his couch to watch some TV while waiting for the results and membership kits to be mailed back in 4-6 weeks. He stared at the wall for a while before realizing that the TV wasn't there--he had sold it to pay the Mensa application fee. Thump! Spot fell off the telephone book which was sitting where his couch used to be. He'd sold the couch, and the telephone, and the coffee table, and his collection of Faberge eggs to pay for the Mega Society application. Spot looked around and realized that all that was left was his Yellow Pages. Well, technically, they were originally White Pages, but Spot's apartment wasn't the cleanest, with him being a dog and all. Spot took note of that fact and thought it was a rather witty comment on the state of life in these United States, and made a mental note to send it to _Reader's Digest_, and to tell all his new friends in Mensa that he'd written a joke which was actually submitted to _Reader's Digest_. Of course, he forgot a few moments later, when his stomach growled. Poor Spot! He'd been concentrating so hard on the matchstick-removal puzzles in the tests that he'd forgotten to eat! All that was left in the freezer was a Swanson Doggie Dinner. He couldn't quite make out the expiration date through the heavy layer of dust and frost and limestone stalactites, but he assumed it would still be good--after all, it had been frozen all this time, except for those power outages during the last six heat waves. He peeled back the asbestos-lined lead foil, which was so brittle it shattered into fragments, and put the celluloid-and-bakelite tray into his microwave. Boom! The TV dinner exploded, spraying boiling dog food through the door of Spot's microwave and across the room, where it left grease stains all over Spot's autographed topless photo of Marina Sirtis! Spot cried while his stomach growled and Marina got soggy. He did his best to lick her off, not realizing that she'd signed her name with one of those new laxative-based inks. Poor, poor Spot! This day was such a bummer that he really needed the "pick-me-up" that only joining a secret society open to all comes brings. Gratuitously, the doorbell rang. Spot trotted over and opened the little flap to look out. He saw a pair of wing-tip Oxfords. Oxfords! Mensa members wore Oxfords! Spot yanked open the door and beheld: his friendly local Mensa deliveryman with an enormous package marked SECRET COOL PRIZES & GAMES FOR MENSA MEMBERS. "Mr. Spot Paraphernalia?" the man asked. "Oh, please, Mr. Mensa Man, call me 'Spot'. I don't use my other name because it sounds stupid. If 'Spot' is too formal you can call me 'Spotty-Wotty'." "Okay, Spotty-Wotty. This elaborate computerized report says that you scored 20 out of 1000 on our test from _Reader's Digest_. This qualifies you to take the actual test." Spot gasped. "What? You mean the _Reader's Digest_ was only a practice test?" The man smiled knowingly. "Yes, Spotty-Wotty. It said so in three-point ITC Fat Face Cyrillic in fluorescent green on fluorescent orange in Swedish. You see, we can only print practice tests because people might cheat on them by thinking about the problems for longer than the twenty-four hours we allow each. Your official test will be administered under highly-scientific conditions to ensure absolute accuracy." He took out a pencil his stainless-steel clipboard. "Okay, how do you spell your first name?" "Ess pee oh tee. And the other one, pee ay ahr ay pee aitch ee en--" "You don't have to spell the last name, Spot, it's too difficult to be scientifically valid. The other question is--" "Yes?" yapped Spot, drooling with eagerness to show his stuff. "--do you have the testing fee?" "WHAT? I already paid you my application fee!" "Testing fee, Spotty-Wotty. The application fee just covers having me come over here to collect the testing fee. It's six hundred dollars and sixty-six cents, plus sales tax and mandatory gratuity." Spot's mind went blank--he'd always had trouble calculating the ten-percent tip he liked to give. "What's that total?" "As we like to say in Mensa, 'It's exactly the square root of beryllium trineutron zeta plus the opposite of seven'! Ho ho! That's science humor, Spotty-Wotty. I'm glad I don't need to translate for a smart one such as yourself!" Spot's mind reeled. Where was he going to get... uh... some amount of money? Tears welled up in his eyes and his tongue hung out as he worried about the prospect of never being in a room filled with hundreds of people as smart as he was! "HEY!" said the Mensa guy upon seeing Spot's tongue, "That's an incredibly-rare BACKWARDS MARINA SIRTIS AUTOGRAPH! She's only been known to autograph a tongue once before, and she did it forwards! I'll pay you a million dollars!" "Wow! Thank you, Mensa Man! Please just deduct the testing fee from it." "Sold!" The man carefully peeled the dried ink off Spot's tongue and stuck it on his own. "Here's your nickel!" "Am I am Mensa member yet? Do I get free stuff now that I've paid the $999,999.95 fee?" "Why, sure, Spotty-Wotty. Just place your right hand on this pentagram and swear to never divulge the secret blood rituals of--wait, that's not a hand, it's a PAW! You can't join Mensa, you're just a DOG!" The man dropped the box of free stuff and ran away. The sound of glass breaking came from within the box! Spot carefully carried it into his apartment and closed the door. Opening the box, he found that the official Mensa bowling ball had crushed all the official Mensa glass unicorn statuettes! Also, the bowling ball had five holes, so Spot could never use it with his tree-toed paws! Spot sobbed. The doorbell rang again. Spot peeked out through the little flap again. It was someone wearing moon boots! Only Mega Society members wore moon boots! (Everyone knew that! It was their secret symbol.) Spot threw the door open. "Hi, Spot. My name is Doctor Albert Richard Steven Einfeynking, six-time Nobel prize winner in physics and currently official spokesman for the Mega Society. We hear you'd like to become a member, and frankly, we'd like to have you... if you're qualified." The man hugged Spot. "Sorry, Dr. Einfeynking," Spot sobbed, "but I'm flat broke and frankly, I don't think I'm good enough for Mega. After all, Mensa rejected me!" "Aww, that's okay, little Spot. You don't have to qualify for Mensa to get into the Mega Society, you just have to be smart! Okay, Spot, we can do the free official entrance test now--it'll only take a second. All you have to do is walk across the room!" Spot walked across the room. Dr. Einfeynking burst into hysterical laughter! "Ha! Ha! Spot, that's the stupidest walk I've ever seen! Do it again! Do it again!" "No," said Spot from across the room. "Well, sorry, Spot, but, looks like we won't be seeing you at any Mega Society meetings, ha-ha!" Spot started to walk back to close the door, but Dr. Einfeynking started laughing again, and Spot stopped. Even Spot's slightest movement was funny to one so above his level as Dr. Einfeynking was, so he tried holding perfectly still, but Spot also held still in a really dorky way! The good doctor laughed and laughed. Spot's nerves turned to dotted lines needing years of therapy as the man, who was so advanced relative to him as he would be to half an ameba, had the only good laugh he'd had since that classic Fred Basset strip in 1958. After about six hours, the rusty automatic-door-closer on Spot's door eased it shut, and Spot was left in peace. He was broke, he had been laughed at, and he was certified stupid! He vowed never to admit to anyone that he'd been rejected by Mensa and the Mega Society. After all, who would know? The door burst open and the Mensa guy ran in brusquely. "Sorry, Spotty-Wotty, but I forgot to give you this!" He whacked Spot in the forehead with a large rubber stamp soaked in indelible dog dye, laughed, and ran out again. Spot trotted over to his warped bathroom mirror and looked at his forehead. He saw an hourglass-shaped head looking back at him across a warped zone of space. On the forehead of the distorted dog, it said: ASNEM YB DETCEJER Spot cried! They were taunting him by giving him this anagram that he was too stupid to unscramble. He worried about what it could say for the next six weeks, and then he decided to sneak into a Mensa meeting (after all, how would they know he'd been rejected?) to ask some smart people. After scraping off most of the tar and feathers (they'd politely left the area of Spot's anagram clean) Spot went to bed, crying himself to sleep. He'd NEVER know what "ASNEM YB DETCEJER" meant now! He dreamed of a girl named Sitris Aniram. -- K. Article: 37187 of alt.religion.kibology Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology,rec.arts.prose,alt.food.sugar-cereals From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: STORY: "Adventures Incompleteness" (Spot) Followup-To: alt.religion.kibology Organization: HappyNet Headquarters Date: Wed, 27 Jul 1994 14:47:10 GMT The latest in my never-ending quest to write More Fiction Than Any Human Being Can Stand. Warning: contains small fluffy puppy. Followups to alt.religion.kibology. -- K. ADVENTURES INCOMPLETENESS by James "Kibo" Parry (C) 1994 Spot was taking a shower when he remembered the doorbell might be ringing and he couldn't hear it. He hopped out of the shower stall and checked. There was nobody there, like the last twenty times he'd looked. He took another thirty seconds of his shower and checked again. This time friendly Mr. Mailman was there! In his sparkling blue United States Postal Service uniform, Mr. Mailman smiled warmly as he held out Spot's very own Free Sample of BLAST-FROSTED YUMMY WONDER-O'S! "Gosh, thanks!" yapped Spot, taking the tiny box and slamming the door in Mr. Mailman's face. Spot examined the package. FUN SIZE, it said. This meant that the cereal would taste extra- special, even better than the big size! It was made of little ring-shaped clusters of genuine Swiss milk chocolate and real ripe raspberries, embedded in giant sugar crystals. M-m-m! Each one of the little rings contained a tasty edible microprocessor which would warn you the moment the cereal went stale, to ensure that you were eating it at the peak of freshness! Spot ripped the box open and was about to dump the contents into his big mouth when he noticed: BLAST-FROSTED YUMMY WONDER-O'S ARE PART OF A COMPLETE BREAKFAST. Oh no! This meant that Spot couldn't eat them until he completed the breakfast! He added a glass of orange juice, and some buttered toast with grape jelly, and a pitcher of milk, and half a grapefruit, and tomato juice, and a bowl of Cheerios, and some Wheat Chex, and a Pop-Tart, and a steak, and some grated Parmesan... He looked at the box again to see what else he was missing. Perhaps the nutritional information (required by law) would give him a clue. They said that the Blast-Frosted Yummy Wonder-O's contained at least two percent of his daily requirement of twenty essential vitamins and minerals! The box only listed essential vitamins and minerals, not essential oils, so Spot poured a gallon of Mazola over his Wonder-O's. (He always liked to drink some essential oil every day, because his doctor said heĠd die otherwise. Spot considered essential oil to be rather important.) Just then, the neighbor's cat strolled past the window, and Spot ducked behind the sofa where she wouldn't see him. This reminded him that the complete breakfast didn't yet have--yuk-- cat food. He called his neighbor and borrowed a can of Science Diet Feline Maintenance, dumping the glop into the bowl of oil which held the Wonder-O's and the grated Parmesan. Spot hated the idea of eating cat food, but it was worth it to get to eat the Blast-Frosted Yummy Wonder-O's! After adding rutabagas, and garlic, and beef tongue, and kiwi gelato, and sushi, and a very rancid Necco SkyBar, and a rock, Spot was about to take his first bite of the complete breakfast when his eye fell on the morning paper. (He pushed it back into its socket before reading the headline.) CITY IMPROVEMENT PLAN DEFEATED MAYOR EATS PROPOSED NEW CLOVERLEAF INTERCHANGE FOR BREAKFAST Spot yelped in surprise! He hadnĠt realized that a cloverleaf interchange was required for every complete breakfast, but he put one in anyway. And a player piano, and some Zima, and a mousetrap, and a hovercraft full of eels, and a dance belt. After scouring the Isaac Walpole's "The Compleat Breakfast" and the Oxford English Dictionary for ideas, he threw them on the huge pile as well, and at long last Spot's breakfast was complete! He stirred it all together with his spoon and took a biiiiig biiiiite. It was the rock. Spot broke most of his teeth as he chewed it up and swallowed it. "Warning!" shouted all the microchips in the Wonder-O's, "Your breakfast is no longer complete! The Blast-Frosted Yummy Wonder-O's (a registered trademark of Advanced Synthetics Inc., supermarket to the Universe) will now self-destruct! STAND CLEAR!" Spot cried as his breakfast exploded. Then the neighbor's cat came in and ate it. THE END