by J. Reed
No exciting things happen here in Visalia... so it's up to me to pretend like they do!
On Monday, the twenty-second of September, the California city of Visalia was hit by what can only be described as a monstrosity of epic breakfast proportions. Early reports depict a massive blob of oatmeal perched atop a mechanized loveseat, rampaging through the town, straight into city hall. The human cost was incredibly high. At least a dozen people were, unfortunately… made really, really uncomfortable when gallons of lukewarm oatmeal were spilled on them.
“It came outta nowhere! It was all like big and squishy and dropping little dollops of oatmeal all over everything! It even got on my car and I was all like, ‘oh no you di’int, monster,’ but it didn’t listen and just like kept on going down the street and stuff,” attests some girl we talked to who may or may not have Down-syndrome.
Existing information cannot attribute the monster’s appearance to any known American government agencies. Conspiracy theorists though, fervently reject the idea that the U.S. is uninvolved.
“No way is the government innocent! It’s the False Bowl policy! If a breakfast item like oatmeal attacks American soil, all of a sudden everyone’s up in arms, ready to buy toast and eggs and cold cereal. It’s a devil’s pact between George W. Bush and sects of the breakfast food industry!” says some speculative dude whose name we forgot to write down.
After the assault on the backwater town’s city hall, the monster vacated the area. Despite the monolithic size of the creature, officials and law enforcement were not able to track its movement. The innominate dude from before posits that fact as proof the government is involved.
“Of course they couldn’t find it! Every law officer is in the warm, sticky, oat-mealy pocket of George W. Bush! They can’t have it tracked back to the oval office! It would be disastrous! It’s probably hiding in one of the secret nuclear silos that George W. Bush has aimed at the world‘s glaciers!”
The lack of evidence and inability to locate the creature has begun to breed worry in the citizens of Visalia, most of which probably couldn’t fit into a leotard. One woman who has requested anonymity says, “I’m scared. The monster was big. It was like, really big. I didn’t like it. I want it to go away because I don’t like it. It’s scary. Like, almost frightening. A lot. And much.”
Powerful words. Locals across the city are echoing that sentiment, fearing the return of the oatmeal monster. Defenses have been erected on the border of town, though the gambit has instigated much argument as to where the defenses should be placed. As of now, the people of Visalia have a bus parked on Mooney Boulevard so as to block the street. Three fat men sit on top of the bus with flyswatters at the ready.
“I hopes we set up the bus good. I don’t like the monster to come back from a different way,” said Stu Peddüsh.
It isn’t known why the Visalians don’t just erect multiple protective barriers.
The monster so far has yet to make a second appearance. There’s no way to tell whether the monstrous monster of oatmeal riding a mechanized loveseat will return. In the meantime, the citizens of Visalia will cower behind a bus, and try to go about their lives as normal, before their city hall was demolished by a monster made of oatmeal.
There are a few inside jokes, so I apologize if it seems a little weird. Aside from it being about an oatmeal monster.