Read Online The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster by Bobby Henderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bobby Henderson
Ads: Link
Nimrod bowed to the FSM’s wishes. Unfortunately, he inhaled too many rancid scrapple fumes in the process, and he was rendered a babbling idiot.
Mosey
And the diners did prosper, and the population feasted and grew in number until there were so many short-order cooks that Phil the night manager did fear a revolt to his authority.
And he ordered that no more short-order cooks be hired, but one young boy named Mosey, who couldn’t sit still and was always running his mouth, did talk his way into a job by claiming to be able to cook “the best papyrus on rye this side of the Euphrates.” Mosey did indeed cook a mean papyrus, and he was an artist with the deep fryer, but he did grow tired of the long hours and mistreatment, and one day he walked into his manager’s office, threw down his apron, and said, “I’m tired of the nine to five. I’m quitting to become a Pirate.” That got the FSM’s attention, and he kept careful track of Mosey. In fact, years later, the FSM, who had grown tired of Phil’s mistreatment of the short-order cooks and was getting to be in a generally bad mood,found Mosey camping out in the desert, drawing up plans for a massive Pirate Ship, and the FSM spoke to Mosey through a burnt roasted marshmallow and commanded Mosey to go back and lead all the short-order cooks out from under Phil’s control. The FSM bade Mosey to hire the cooks and start a restaurant of his own, preferably one that specialized in foods more to His liking. “Maybe call it the Olive Garden. You could manage the kitchen staff,” said the FSM. But when Mosey returned to the diner, Phil refused to release the short-order cooks’ last paycheck if they followed Mosey.
Now the FSM was really angry with Phil, and He punished him with the following plagues:
A rain of spaghetti sauce
A hail of linguini
Repetitively playing Kid Abyssinia’s rap hit “I’m the Makkeda Daddy” inside Phil’s head
Phil relented, and the FSM commanded the short-order cooks to celebrate the yearly “Pastover,” where the angel hair pasta of death passes over all the houses that have a smear of sauce on the doorpost.
Now the FSM spoke to Mosey, saying, “This month shall be the beginning of your new restaurant franchise; it shall be the first month of the rest of your life. Speak to all the short-order cooks, saying ‘Begin your sauce on the tenth day of this month. Every man shall prepare a sauce, stirring it occasionally. If you don’t have enough people to eat it, go over to your in-laws’ house.
“‘Now you shall cook the sauce until the fourteenth day of the same month. And you shall take some of the sauce and smear it on your doorpost. Then you shall pour the remainder of the sauce over a heaping bowl of the pasta of your choosing, and you shall eat all of it.
“‘With a belt at your waist, a patch over your eye, and a cutlass in your hand, you shall eat the pasta. For you are no longer short-order cooks, but the sauce on your door will mark you as Pirates!’” Though Phil had reluctantly agreed to release the last paychecks, assoon as Mosey led the short-order cooks out of the diner, he changed his mind. Phil chased after them, all the way to a giant red puddle of spaghetti sauce that had been left over from the first plague. The FSM parted the Red Puddle for Mosey, but He didn’t notice that Phil was hot on his heels. Unfortunately, Phil was swallowed up by the puddle and rolled into a giant meatball.
Mosey became “Pirate Mosey,” and later dried pasta fell from the skies like manna, which is Hebrew for “monster.” The Eight “I’d Really Rather You Didn’ts” Pirate Mosey really wanted that Pirate ship, and putting all labor issues aside he declared his band to now be Pirates, and he led the Pirates up to the top of Mount Salsa, where he thought there might be a good chance of finding the Pirate ship he’d been searching for all these years. But they didn’t find the ship, and the people didn’t know how
Mosey
And the diners did prosper, and the population feasted and grew in number until there were so many short-order cooks that Phil the night manager did fear a revolt to his authority.
And he ordered that no more short-order cooks be hired, but one young boy named Mosey, who couldn’t sit still and was always running his mouth, did talk his way into a job by claiming to be able to cook “the best papyrus on rye this side of the Euphrates.” Mosey did indeed cook a mean papyrus, and he was an artist with the deep fryer, but he did grow tired of the long hours and mistreatment, and one day he walked into his manager’s office, threw down his apron, and said, “I’m tired of the nine to five. I’m quitting to become a Pirate.” That got the FSM’s attention, and he kept careful track of Mosey. In fact, years later, the FSM, who had grown tired of Phil’s mistreatment of the short-order cooks and was getting to be in a generally bad mood,found Mosey camping out in the desert, drawing up plans for a massive Pirate Ship, and the FSM spoke to Mosey through a burnt roasted marshmallow and commanded Mosey to go back and lead all the short-order cooks out from under Phil’s control. The FSM bade Mosey to hire the cooks and start a restaurant of his own, preferably one that specialized in foods more to His liking. “Maybe call it the Olive Garden. You could manage the kitchen staff,” said the FSM. But when Mosey returned to the diner, Phil refused to release the short-order cooks’ last paycheck if they followed Mosey.
Now the FSM was really angry with Phil, and He punished him with the following plagues:
A rain of spaghetti sauce
A hail of linguini
Repetitively playing Kid Abyssinia’s rap hit “I’m the Makkeda Daddy” inside Phil’s head
Phil relented, and the FSM commanded the short-order cooks to celebrate the yearly “Pastover,” where the angel hair pasta of death passes over all the houses that have a smear of sauce on the doorpost.
Now the FSM spoke to Mosey, saying, “This month shall be the beginning of your new restaurant franchise; it shall be the first month of the rest of your life. Speak to all the short-order cooks, saying ‘Begin your sauce on the tenth day of this month. Every man shall prepare a sauce, stirring it occasionally. If you don’t have enough people to eat it, go over to your in-laws’ house.
“‘Now you shall cook the sauce until the fourteenth day of the same month. And you shall take some of the sauce and smear it on your doorpost. Then you shall pour the remainder of the sauce over a heaping bowl of the pasta of your choosing, and you shall eat all of it.
“‘With a belt at your waist, a patch over your eye, and a cutlass in your hand, you shall eat the pasta. For you are no longer short-order cooks, but the sauce on your door will mark you as Pirates!’” Though Phil had reluctantly agreed to release the last paychecks, assoon as Mosey led the short-order cooks out of the diner, he changed his mind. Phil chased after them, all the way to a giant red puddle of spaghetti sauce that had been left over from the first plague. The FSM parted the Red Puddle for Mosey, but He didn’t notice that Phil was hot on his heels. Unfortunately, Phil was swallowed up by the puddle and rolled into a giant meatball.
Mosey became “Pirate Mosey,” and later dried pasta fell from the skies like manna, which is Hebrew for “monster.” The Eight “I’d Really Rather You Didn’ts” Pirate Mosey really wanted that Pirate ship, and putting all labor issues aside he declared his band to now be Pirates, and he led the Pirates up to the top of Mount Salsa, where he thought there might be a good chance of finding the Pirate ship he’d been searching for all these years. But they didn’t find the ship, and the people didn’t know how
Similar Books
