alt.fan.spinnwebe Logs : Prom Night After the Universe
[Ed. : This all started when someone posted the Time Person of the Century Poll to a.f.s. - "Raven" was #9 (and I'm sure it was not actually referring to me!). #1 was Jesus Christ. During the thread, Mr. ? wrote "(It's only a popularity contest anyway. It's not like Jesus ever got to be Prom Queen)". Ken instigated shamelessly by replying "Now you've done it! I DARE you to make that idea into a fanfic." On with the story...]
Okay, here goes. Disclaimer: This may suck. If so or you are offended, or (even worse) bored, just disregard any memories you might have of it. The Management.
PROM NIGHT AFTER THE UNIVERSE
The galaxies collapsed and superclusters folded into themselves as everything ended. It was all because some overweight melonheaded cherub blew Gabriel's shiney horn by accident, but since that fact is mostly irrelevent to this story, there will be no further mention of it.
After 'ALL THAT WAS' had been crushed into a small white ball (which sadly, the incarnation of Chaos mistook for bubblegum, grabbed it, and took off on her merry way), all the gods and prophets, angels and demons got together for one final reuninon. They were just standing there, milling around and enjoying the miniature soylent corn dogs for the heaven side and anguished cries of tortured souls with cheddar on rye for the hell crew, when Venus, the goddess of love, had an idea.
"Why don't we stage a dance?" she squeaked and adjusted her body stocking. "You know, like, a prom. Let's vote on the Prom King and Queen. It'll be fun!" Well, that sounded like a good idea to everyone, so they all agreed. Usually no one can agree on anything, but it was different today. Everyone was drunk due to some merry elf spiking the punch.
No one is really sure if that reason also contributed when Jesus decided to run for Prom Queen. People confronted him with the fact that he should be running for King, but he just walked right up to them and slurred the he was the son of god and could do whatever the hell he pleased and they couldn't do a thing about it.
Well god, the one that was Jesus' father, made a bet with Saint Darth Vader that if Jesus didn't win, he would cut off his allowance. Darth countered by saying that if the son of god did win, the Lord himself would have a cut of the New Star Wars merchandising deals (there would be hundreds of new sequels in the next universe since George Lucas was saved. ILM was the only company who could do nifty enough special effects of the Big Bang).
On the day of the dance, everybody was there. The patron saint of plastic soldiers, G.I Joe was dancing with Lady J, while the alien god of tents, Oing, was stuck in the porta-potty (some even said it was on purpose).
At the end of the dancing, after all the votes were counted and tallied, Elvis storde up on the stage to give the results.
"Hello, everybody." He said and opened an envelope. "Now to reveal the winner of the Prom King... The winner is, The Prophet Mohammed! Uh, hey? Where is he?"
Everyone looked around, except Satan, who just burped. The Holy King of Rock and Roll continued, "Since that prophet fellow is nowhere around, the Prom King will have to be, no sorry, Satan, you havent passed him in the polls yet. The winner is drumroll please.... Santa Claus! Saint Nick, step right up."
As Santa went to get his scepter, he heard Jesus say proudly about how he already had picked out the perfect thorn tiara while Satan was complaining about how the magic powers of his ass had f-f-failed.
"And now, the winner of the position of Prom Queen, here's, woah baby. It's a surprise write-in candidate, Raven!"
Jesus screamed, "Noooooooo!" and wept, while Raven just looked shocked. She strolled up on stage and collected her feathered tiara and sceptre amidst heart-felt congradulations, applause, and 'Good-on-you-mates' from everyone. And they all lived almost happily ever after, that is until the incarnation of Chaos (who kind of resembled a certain sperm-burping gutterslut we all know and love) blew a huge shiney bubble and popped it.
And the moral of this story is: Don't Dare me to write any fanfics if you don't like this one.
Heather Garvey / Raven / firstname.lastname@example.org