I am certain this is redundant to all of you, as who could forget what they were doing on the day Vermont disappeared, but I feel the urge to seek commiseration in the company of my fellow Vermontless citizens. So as it goes: I was in a library that afternoon, which I pray was coincidence and nothing more, well not the afternoon part as I have made it my custom to not leave my bed before that hallowed hour, no matter if Vermont disappears or remains in existence, but the library part I will posit as mere coincidence, for if it be something more, I do not think I could function as a god fearing, meat guzzling, self absorbed, world consuming American that I am today. As it goes I was in the Sacramento Public Library perusing a map of the United States in a very fine atlas, when I noticed something rather peculiar; namely the space once occupied by a representation of the state of Vermont was now nothing more than blank atlas paper. I found this a tish disturbing, as I was quite certain that it had been safely stowed in place a few mere seconds before. I checked all of the other maps in the atlas that should rightly contain information about Vermont and came up with nothing. Subsequently marching up to the front desk I began to interrogate the librarian about her book's total disregard of what I considered to be a fine state. However, as it appeared, her ear drums had better things to do than transfer sonic messages to her brain, and rather than disturb the other scholarly patrons with boisterous comments about the lack of Vermontyness I returned to my seat, as calmly as I could make myself appear. You, of all people, should know what it felt like when you first heard the news! I scampered around the veritable house of knowledge and found, to my utter dismay, that there was not one iota of information about our former state. My sense of reality was hanging by a thread, dear reader, and I knew I must do something to return the former state of the state of Vermont, namely, the state of being a state. So, right then and there I began writing a book, and oh what a book it was! All the notes someone could ever ask for about Vermont and more, oh so much more. But about two pages into it my pool of facts dried up and when I caught myself discussing the events of Vermont's Third Annual Whore Hunting Festival, I realized the time for writing was over and the time for action had begun! So, taking the next logical step, I stole a car and headed east. I drove non-stop, other than sleeping 12 hours a night and eating expensive meals, and of course spending a few odd years in prison for grand theft auto until I reached my supposed destination. Except I could not quite get there because there was a hole in my path. A hole that must have been the size of Vermont right on the New Hampshire border. I slammed on my breaks and caused a five-car pile up that thankfully resulted only in minor injuries for your narrator. And alas the horrors I saw that day my friends! Woe is he who has seen what I have seen at that horrible Vermont sized hole. The cars plunged into the hole one after another seemingly unconcerned with their fates, and I could only assume did so from the vast sadness and utter despair they felt at losing our nation's finest state. As I watched the vehicles plummet into the earth, some to burn up when they reached the core and some to arrive safely, if one can use that term, on the other side of the globe, in China. And not long after did They come. As I saw cars come tumbling up the hole I knew with a certainty that comes only with resignation that it was all over for us. The Chinese had finally found the perfect way to infiltrate our veritable fortress of a country. Dig a hole through the earth and come up under a major highway, this time the New Hampshire Turnpike, dig a hole and wait, wait for the poor hapless American bastards to plummet through and then stab them with chopsticks and place their feet in little tiny shoes and dump red paint upon them. Then piling unthinkable numbers of miniature people into our big American cars and dump them back into the hole so that those not burned could arrive and begin their conquest. There were simply too many of them. God knows I tried to fight them off, but their weapons too powerful and their language too annoying for me, as for the rest of our military. Working from their base around the former state of Vermont the Chinese became in invincible fighting force and soon had subjugated all the fat lazy citizens of the Former Republic of America. Sometimes they lured us into football stadiums, sometimes strip malls, sometimes outside vast McDonalds's but they knew how to hit us hard and in no time the United States had been defeated by a lesser evolved species of slant eyed dwarfs. They took little time to turn the entire Midwest into rice fields, and the rest of the country into overpopulated squalor.
Only I have escaped and I can only hope there are more survivors out there somewhere that may receive this message. We must band together and return obesity and Microsoft to power. Don't tell them where I am; please don't, I couldn't take hearing them talk again. |