The Truth Machine

Every new president of Chimerica is given the Mammoth Bone Key to the Truth Machine. What is unprecedented is for Orange Hulk simply to swallow it.
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While officials wait for the Key to, um, re-emerge, the Ministry for Verification has been put on a 26 hour Emergency Verification working day.

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The Ministry for Correcting the Ministry for Verification has also been reinstated, though it is feared staff may themselves have been ‘corrected’.

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Until the successful acquisition of Space Honey, there are no funds to reestablish the Ministry for Correcting the Ministry for Corrections.

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Normally, each morning, the President is required to wheel a barrow of marrow into the Long Barrow to sacrifice to the Spine of the Nation.

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Inside the Long Barrow is believed to be (though, truthfully, no-one but the President ever sees it), the Truth Machine. It must be, delicately, wound up.

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The Machine has been wound up daily since before there were machines, Chimericas – or mammoths to remember either. It’s now been weeks…

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Given the lengthy constipation currently endured by Orange Hulk, the Privy Council have offered the services of the Lords and Ladies of the Stool.

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This office, which assisted their Chimeric Majesties in the movement of the royal bowels, lapsed with the accession of the Insect Dynasties.

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But a branch of the last family thus honoured maintains the accoutrements of the Office of the Stool: the Silken Wipe, the Golden Pencil…

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The Mammoth Key might be retrieved by the insertion of rectal nanobots, devised by the Office of the Stool for emergencies of non-emergence.

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Orange Hulk’s reaction to the rectal nanobot suggestion was not good. This is the fifth time the Whited Sepulchre has been wrecked this month.

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While Orange Hulk strains to pass the Key, here are some key Mammoth Bone Key Facts: 1) The key is very sensitive to the truth as it remembers everything;

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2) The original Mammoth Bone Key was given to the Chimeric Queen 7000 years ago by Palaeopontiki, Emperor of the Moon Rats…

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The Adventures of Captain Anoxia and the Space Centipedes, 5: Space Honey

In other news, astronauts have discovered a colony of Space Bees on the Moon. Soon we’ll all have naked Space Honey on the ends of our spoons!
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Unfortunately, as these were merely imaginary astronauts, no-one can work out how to get all that yummy Space Honey back to the Chimeric homeworld.

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Fortunately, as Captain Anoxia no longer believes he exists, we should be able to get him up there in no time. The Space Honey shall be ours!

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Implanted in Captain Anoxia’s transporter dust is a disintegration code enabling the Ministry to dissolve n recall him at a moment’s notice.

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We may have failed to inform Anoxia of this particular code, but as he was only able to speak backwards last time we met, what could we do?

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This is the first time we’ve tried to transfer a real astronaut from Pluto to the Moon, and we’re not sure how much of Anoxia will reconstitute.

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The value of Space Honey renders all such considerations immaterial. As, currently, is Captain Anoxia. Hopefully, the bees will understand.

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Reports are coming in from our Remote Dreamers that parts of Captain Anoxia have begun manifesting all over the lunar surface.

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The body parts look like ersatz jade crystalline formations with occasional vestiges of a limb or feature. The good news: they’re all alive!

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We believe Captain Anoxia’s scattered limbs are attempting to locate each other in a Herculean feat of individuation: a true Chimeric hero!

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Urgent semaphore messages are being sent to our allies the Moon Rats. It is vital no part of Anoxia falls into the hands of the Cicadas.

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As we should have thought of that possibility earlier, the Minister for Extraterrestrial Affairs has been liquidised as a Salutory Measure.

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The Minister for Oort Cloud Trade has been instated as a replacement – its experience in the Space Centipede Wars will prove invaluable.

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This just in: in an unprecedented intervention, the Space Bees have taken all known fragments of Anoxia to an audience with their Queen…

Is it a Brie? is it a Parmesan? No, it’s Supermoon!


Obviously the Supermoon can fly – that’s why it’s in the sky, stupid – but did you know it has X-ray vision and can see your underpants?

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Apparently the Supermoon is allergic to the green green cheese of Krypton which destroyed Supermouse in that unfortunate incident.

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On the dark side of the Supermoon is a pants-shaped region known as the Sea of Pants. In its middle is a solitary telephone box.

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Also on the dark side is the Supermoon’s Fortress of Solitude, but, as it is a structure on its own surface, the SuperMoon is unable to enter.

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Many people ask why the Supermoon doesn’t end all crime on Earth 2 at once, preferably by crashing into us? These people don’t read comics.

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It’s like the way atheists ask why God doesn’t just end all human misery right now – they haven’t read comics either.

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By day the Supermoon poses as a mild cheddar in World of Cheese, the most important cheese shop on the planet. It’s the cheese wearing spectacles.

Big Bill Backward’s True-Faced Western Tales, 10: Byzantium for Mice

Last time I looked up a rat, Big Bill Backwards drawled, I saw me a lil Noah’s ark n the animals wavin n sayin kin we all come down yet?

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Did I say it was a ra-ra rat? Big Bill Backwards continued, tho he was lying on a mesa in a mess all alone. Rats don’t come rarer than that.

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Got it into my head rats were toobular or telescopic – couldn’t get it out n couldn’t work out which. Just then this ole rat shimmied past…

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Course the worst rats are Moon Rats. They call themselves mice but don’t let that fool yuh none. DNA’s mostly some kinda amphibian, anyways.

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Used ta be a proud civilisation, so they say, till them cicadas took over. I been down their burrows n there ain’t nuthin proud about em.

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Gnawed out half the Moon before we got there. Made themselves cathedrals outa dried macaroni, cheese n zircon. Real purty mo-say-hics.

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I was tradin in mica back then. Moon Rats valued it highly doo to an etymological misunderstandin that led em to suppose it wus made outa mice.

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They had them great mo-say-hics of their holiest rats, all made outa lunar minerals, n they wanted mica fur the halos. Who was I to argue?

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The other quantity in which I did trade wus earplugs, on account uh the incessant Moon Cicada music-makin that goes on. Earplugs fur rats.

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Never seen nuthin as dumb as them Moon Rats livin in old lunar modules they dragged under that dome showin their ‘Pon-tee-kos Panto-krater’.

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They all dress in old US flags n plastic crowns n earplugs, and this giant rat stares down with million year old meteorites fer eyes…

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…anyways, this rat shimmied past, n I thought I’d look me up some old buddies on the Moon. So I picked him up n twisted his neck n peered.

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N lo n behold he was neither a telescope nor particularly telescopic in his reaction. Got me an eyeful uh moon-rat that night n no mistake.

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Well I think about that ark I saw up that rat’s behind a whole lot – an asshole lot. Wus it the gee-nu-ine Ark? N wus it here, or on the Moon?

Glow Cheese

The real reason refrigerators have lights that come on when you open them is so you don’t find out which cheeses glow in the dark.

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Certain cheeses by night have dull cubic exteriors, but shocking, pulsating shapes hidden within – heart-like ventricles, or glowing corals.

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Some appear to contain letters or hieroglyphs in some hitherto unknown three-dimensional language of cheese.

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Some cheese experts claim this is bioluminescence, or even a type of cheesy radioactivity. Others think it is triggered by phases of the Moon.

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Every now and then a prophetic ‘cheese-reader’ rides into town on the back of a cow or ewe, claiming to know the art of deciphering cheese.

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Great wheels of cheese are rolled to them like galaxies, each lighting up in the darkness with whole zodiacs of mysterious interior symbols.

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Their crusades would liberate Zions of illuminated halloumi; their pilgrims would locate the Solar Udder – all are blinded by their own incandescent cholesterol.

Referendumb

In response to the Chimeric Referendum, the map will be torn up and reassembled at random. Then Chimerica will be redesigned to match.

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In the regional capital of Chim, Chimchimereechimchimereechimchimcheroo, debate continues about which chimney they should hide the results up.

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Meanwhile, in the regional capital of Era, Errata, citizens are wondering if the Chimeric Referendum has all been a big mistake.

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Having exited from reality, Chimerica is astonished to find it still exists, but is psychically confined to a krazy golf course on the Moon.

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In a hideous parody of real life, each of the holes on the Moon’s krazy golf course exactly resembles a dilemma encountered here on Earth 2.

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All the shadows that lost their bodies are folded neatly in a drawer in a sideboard in a crater on the dark side of the Moon.

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Every now and then, a golfball made of mammoth bone, over-hit from the krazy golf course, strikes the sideboard and ricochets into space.

Secretes of The Moths: an Epistolary Novel (Part 1)

Dear Pope Hulk, Wheare is the Moon?

Yours, Thee Moths

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Wee looked al night and we could knot see becoss of clowd & windo & curtanes & smol moons that wer later proved to be blubs.

The Möths

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One off our nombre has swalowde a pebbl he claims cam frae Demosthenes and now cannot fly. Is it a pebbl truly or The Moon?

The Moths

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One of oure nomber (thee one that swalwod the peble) will not stoap talkin. May we eet him?

TheMoths

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Deer Pope HuLk, plees disruggard our last as it was not a pebbl it was a blubb & one off our numbre hass explodode & is sindrs.

The moths

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In discusione it was moted that True Dmosthene’s Pebbl might be The Moone. Therefore we arr writng seeking clarfication whear it is?

The Moths

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Oslo, if w eet The Moone, will it causs much eloquentz like one off oure numbre becoss that was too longe & only a Blub?

The Mothss