Morning Annoucments

Jake walked up to the podium, his black robe’s tail gliding across the darkened marble floor.
Each step reminded Jake of all the greats that had taken this exact route, all except for Tom, who had been too busy with the mutant  uprising.
“Um…” Jake spoke into the microphone.  In front of him waited 150 onlookers.  Some men, some women, some children, all clothed in  ash-gray “snowball” colored robes.
“Um guys?  Where’s Carl?” Jake asked.  With that, all formality washed away and the audience was caught ablaze with idle chatter.
“There are normally 151 of you so someone’s missing, and knowing Carl…” Jake struggled to speak over the forest fire of chatter.
“He’s dead!” someone yelled from the audience.
The news hit Jake like a sack of solid gold bricks.  In fact similarly to someone who was hit by a sack of actual golden bricks Jake threw up over the entire front row.  Their ash-gray robes now decorated with a new tinge of orange-colored flavoring.
It was at that moment that Carl walked in through the double doors.
“Sorry I’m la–” He was cut off by Jake.
“Carl, you’re supposed to be dead man!  Not cool.  That is such a jerky move man!”
“Oh–sorry!” With that Carl collapsed into a heap and died.
“Thank you, Carl.  Anyway…” Jake said, turning his body away from Carl’s corpse, which was being dragged away by the Janitor.
“Okay.  Morning announcements. Year 29 Day 252. The world didn’t end last night.” The audience groaned. “I know. I know. Disappointing, but I’ve got a good feeling about tonight!”
A tidal wave of woo’s erupted from the crowd.  Say what you will about the Clearwater Doomsday Cultists, but they really knew how to keep up the enthusiasm.  After nearly 30 years of predicting the end of the world it hadn’t happened once, well, there was that one time.
“Hm… Okay… Other news… Oh it’s someone’s birthday!”
A group of cultists began singing Happy Birthday.  They had barely gotten through the first verse when they were cut off by Jake.
“But it’s Carl.  And he’s dead.  Oh someone stop those rats from eating him, otherwise there won’t be enough for the rest of us.”
The Janitor raced over to Carl’s body to confront the rats.  He pulled out his trusty broom and began to attack the rats, who had failed to respond to his diplomacy.  For a moment the Janitor looked like he was going to win until one of the rats bit off his leg, turning the tide of the battle.  It took four cultists to subdue the giant mutated rats.
“Guys,” Jake said in that way teachers do when they’re about to explain something incredibly simple, “has someone been diverting the nuclear waste from our nursery to the rats’ nest again?  If we keep doing that,” Jake’s voice began to rise, “Project Super Baby will never work!”
The audience exchanged nervous glances.
“Ooh! From now on morning announcements will be 15 minutes earlier so we can predict the end of the world before those damn Knights of a Fallen World.  Their website now claims that they are the first to predict the end of the world.”
“Boo!” roared the audience.
“Exactly! We’ve been at this for nearly 30 years now, if anyone is going to predict the end of times it will be us!  And if anyone was thinking about moving to the Knights, must I remind you of what happened to the last group that tried to leave?  Square dancing.  For two entire week. Eight am til nine pm.  And guess what type of music was on the entire time? Country!” The audience groaned.
“And now, ladies and gents. Our pledge of allegiance.”
Everyone, even the Janitor who was bleeding profusely from his stump leg, and Carl, now resurrected as a zombie (that’s what happens when you don’t eat them quick enough), held hands and chanted:
“I pledge my allegiance to the Clearwater Doomsday Cult and to the Almighty Queen Kautauespha, I pledge my allegiance to canned food and to her husband Tsar Steve, and I pledge to never enjoy square dancing.  Ever.”
And with that everyone went back to fighting the mutant rats, who, during these announcements had taken over the nursery.

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