ClickHole

Murder, Cheat, And Fuck Your Way Through Boston

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re sitting around with nothing to do. You had a job, but it exploded, so now you’re stuck here in your boring house.

Suddenly, your phone rings.

You walk outside and find your mailman. “You have a letter,” says your mailman. “Here it is.”

Inside your house, the phone continues to ring.

Boston. The diamond in America’s face. The place where a dog died. A sprawling metropolis filled with history, culture, stores, some roads, and a guy who kissed a lady here once. It’s time to walk through this city’s hallowed gates and start fucking and killing all the stuff that’s here so that God will destroy it for insurance money.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“That’s correct.”

“It’s whatever. I could take it or leave it.”

“Later today.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. Listen, could you take your letter now? I have to deliver mail to everyone in the world, and you’re my first house.”

It’s a letter from the Mayor of Boston. It sounds like a pretty urgent message.

You are standing outside the historic gates of Boston. Before you can pass through them, your cell phone starts ringing. It’s your husband and wife calling.

You answer your phone to talk to your husband and wife. “Hello. This is your husband and your wife,” say your husband and wife.

“I’m your wife,” says your husband.

“I’m you,” says your wife.

“One husband and one wife,” your husband and wife say in unison.

“We were just sitting on our hands so that we could charge people money to get touched in the leg by our warm hands,” says your wife.

“We’ve made over $600 from people lining up outside of our house just begging us to put our warm hands on their neck for 15 minutes at a time,” says your husband.

“When I’m sitting on my own hands, I’m in heaven,” says your wife.

“Yeah, when I’m sitting on my own hands, I bellow in ecstasy and feel like God,” says your husband.

“I love to sit on my hands and scream, ‘Yeah, baby! Christmas came early for my warm hands!’ until the neighbors ask me to leave their bathroom,” says your wife.

“I’m your wife,” says your husband.

“Okay, we’ll let you go,” your husband and wife say. “But promise us that while you’re fucking and killing everything that draws breath in Boston, you won’t cheat on us. Fuck and kill whoever you want, but do not fuck anyone. We are the only people you are allowed to fuck. We are your husband and wife, and monogamy is more important to us than God and Bus God combined.”

“This is Boston Castle, where Thomas Jefferson and King George III co-wrote the Declaration of Independence. This is where the Mayor of Boston lives and does his private trouble.”

You blast into Boston and stand in the middle of Adultery Square, one of the most famous streets in Boston.

It’s time to do terrible sins and get God and Bus God to destroy this city. Where would you like to start doing sins?

You stand in Adultery Square and prepare to do a ton of sins. A man in a terrible blue shirt runs up to you.

“Hello. Welcome to Bompo or whatever this place is called. Please fuck me or kill me immediately.”

You send your pants and your clothes to a different country, rendering yourself nude, in the manner of sex. You begin nudely fucking the stranger right there in the middle of Adultery Square.

Due to the First Amendment, it is illegal to show you what’s actually happening right now, so the image above is a metaphor for what’s going on. The two horses fucking each other represent you and this stranger fucking each other.

“Whatever!” screams the man as you make dispassionate, lazy love to his emperor’s groin. “I don’t care about this!”

You spray the friendly stranger with Treasure Juice, a perfume issued by the United States Military that makes people smell like gold coins.

The smell of the treasure attracts a hoard of gold-crazy children.

“Hey, everyone! This guy smells like gold!” shrieks a jewel-hungry 8-year-old boy.

“I smell it!” screeches a 5-year-old girl. “I smell the jewels and the doubloons! I need that sweet treasure!”

“I live for doubloons! I smell it! I want it because I smell it!” yells a 4-year-old boy.

The mob of children jump on the man and claw him to pieces in a gold-fueled frenzy. He dies a hero’s death getting torn to shreds by insane children who keep telling him that he smells like treasure.

Nice. You killed one entire man. At this rate, God will destroy Boston in no time. Keep up the good work!

You die of old age.

You hang up the phone and sit alone in your house thinking about everything the Mayor of Boston said.

Do you have what it takes? Are you the kind of hero who can singlehandedly sin enough to turn Boston into the new Sodom, just like the Prophecies And Recipes section of the United States Constitution predicted would happen one day?

Wonderful. Very exciting. These Vikings from a long time ago are cheering because of your bravery. It’s time to get started! Go to Boston and start fucking and killing everything until the Lord destroys the city.

“Hello,” says the voice on the other end of the phone. “This is the Mayor of Boston. It’s an honor to have a phone.”

“Boston is a city in the state of Marpuss,” says the Mayor of Boston. “It is incredibly old and small. It is the capital city of Marpuss. In 1997, a man dumped $6 in coins into a fishbowl while staring at a picture of Boston, which made Boston famous all over the world.”

“Are you familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?” asks the Mayor of Boston.

“Wonderful. On behalf of myself and all the people of Boston, I cannot wait for you to fuck us and kill us in an anything-goes orgiastic carnage odyssey that will result in the divine destruction of our glamorous city. It’s very important that you fuck and kill as many people as possible. Okay, goodbye. I love you, I love God and Bus God, and I love 3D video games. Goodbye.”

Ah! Harvard University! The special jail where people with too much math are imprisoned forever and forced to teach each other about poems. It is one of the cruelest and most prestigious prisons, not just in Boston, but in the entire state of Marpuss.

Surely, one of the brilliant minds trapped here in this brain dungeon can help you sink Boston into the sea.

Which department of the university would you like to visit?

As you make your way across Harvard’s stylish quadrangle toward the Religious Studies Department, you encounter Sunrise Man and Midnight Man, the Twin Deans of Harvard University.

“We are from today,” says Sunrise Man.

“Harvard,” says Midnight Man.

No, that is incorrect. Harvard University is located in the city of Boston. In fact, Harvard is the capital of Boston. “Cambridge” is a French word meaning, “It’s Boston, everybody.” Thus, your complaint is invalid and embarrassing for you.

Please select a department of Harvard that you would like to visit.

“What now?” says Sunrise Man. “Harvard? Why, yes! Harvard! The hallowed halls and the math!”

“Quite so! Harvard! The math and the brains of children. Rolling hills and smart young bellies of intelligent infants! Harvard!” says Midnight Man.

“Harvard!” Sunrise Man and Midnight Man say in unison.

You tighten your neck, widen your lungs, and begin the difficult but noble task of fucking the Twin Deans of Harvard University.

“Harvard the school!” screams Midnight Man as you do intimate pleasure sorceries to his emperor’s groin.

“I live for Harvard! Death is optional!” bellows Sunrise Man as you commit an illegal kindness on his reproductive cul-de-sac.

Once again, the First Amendment of the United States Constitution forbids us from showing you exactly what’s going on, but the above visual metaphor should give you a good idea. The huge fish represents “Fucking,” while the middle fish represents “Getting Gross In Boston.” The small fish is a literal fish. All the fish are eating each other, which is a metaphor for something so gross that it defies description in any known language, but suffice it to say that it involves kissing.

The two sets of train tracks are a metaphor for the two halves of Fucking, which are, of course, “Exhausting Wetness” and “Fucking All The Time.” Sorry if that was obvious, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

You take out your cell phone and call the American Bureau of Parades. You schedule a parade in honor of Mutiny The Boat Crime and specify that the parade route should be “Boston.”

Within seconds, 8 million people wearing mutiny-themed masks and riding mutiny-themed floats come parading over the hills of Boston. The Mutiny Appreciation Parade has begun!

A marching band plays “O Mutiny, My Heart Yearns Ever For Thee” as the parade-goers cheer and scream about how much they love mutiny.

Here you are in the middle of the Mutiny Appreciation Parade. Everyone is dressed like beloved mutineers from history; Fletcher Christian and Karl Artelt costumes are everywhere you look. You start marching with the crowd as the Mutiny National Anthem swells to a triumphant crescendo.

“I love mutiny!” shrieks a 9-year-old girl wearing an Afanasi Matushenko mask.

“If mutiny were a car, I would crawl inside of it to die!” bellows a man wearing a T-shirt that says “I Love To Forcibly Wrest Control Of The Ship Away From My Captain And All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt.”

You have arrived at Harvard’s Department of Religious Studies. This is the part of Harvard where scientists argue about whether or not God wears a shark tooth necklace in Heaven. Maybe one of the religion scientists knows how to make God angry enough to destroy Boston.

You walk into a classroom and sit down.

“Hello,” says the professor. “Welcome to Advanced Religious Studies. Today’s lecture will address the most fundamental question of all religions: Does God wear a shark tooth necklace?”

“Of course you remember the fishbowl thing,” says the Mayor of Boston. “Everyone remembers exactly where they were when they found out someone had dumped $6 in coins into a fishbowl while looking at a picture of Boston.”

“Oh, well, good thinking to check. Anyway, I’m calling because I have a very solemn request for you.”

“All right, so then you know about how the people of Sodom did all sorts of terrible sins, like thinking about their own butts on the Sabbath and dipping their middle fingers into bowls of warm water without announcing it beforehand, and so as punishment for these sins, God and Bus God teamed up to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah?”

“All right,” says the Mayor of Boston, “so here’s my plan: I’ve taken out a $10,000 insurance policy on the city of Boston. I want you to come to this city and do so many sins that God destroys Boston the way he destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah. Then I’ll get the insurance money, and we can split the $10,000 down the middle.”

“In Boston, you can only be charged with insurance fraud if you’re under 10 years old. Our prisons are completely packed with tiny children who took out insurance policies on their own legs and then set their legs on fire to try to cash in on the insurance policy. That’s the main crime in Boston, but it’s not something that you have to worry about unless you’re under 10 years old.”

You decide that instead of murdering and fucking people in Boston, you will be tired. You yawn and walk out of your house. Your car is parked in your driveway. You climb into the driver’s seat and go to sleep. This is where you always sleep. You do not own a bed.

While you sleep in your car, you have a good dream. You dream that a man holding an oyster lets you point at his oyster. It’s the best dream you’ve ever had. In your dream, you even get to point at the oyster with both hands.

You slumber peacefully in your car as history passes you by. You die forgotten, but you don’t care.

The End.

While you sleep in your car, you have a bad dream. You dream that there are three boys near a restaurant. It’s the scariest dream you’ve ever had, and your slumber is tormented as you sit in your car and sleep for the rest of the day.

When you wake up, you write the word “Money” on a piece of paper and smile at it.

The End.

While you slumber in your car, you make the wise and noble decision to die in your sleep. The next morning, you’re discovered by your neighbor Louis, who likes to sneak into the backseat of your car every morning so that he can sit in your car and brush his hair.

Louis calls the police and informs them that he has found your corpse. The police tell Louis to never call them again.

The End.

“Great, let’s start the tour,” says Old Ancient Michael. “Right now, we’re standing in Adultery Square. It’s called Adultery Square because this is where George Washington famously added the line ‘Adultery Is Good’ to the Bill of Rights.”

“You look like you need a tour guide,” says a man dressed in the traditional clothing of Colonial America. “I am a tour guide. My name is Old Ancient Michael, and I went to the Toronto Institute of Boston Trivia, where I graduated first in my class and majored in pointing at statues. I can take you to the most historic places in Boston.”

You look in the sky and see some clouds. Making clouds is God’s way of screaming, so you know that you just pissed him off with your incredible sin. You’re on the right track! What part of Boston do you want to do sins in now?

You make your way to Fenway Park, home of the Boston Red Sox, America’s quietest, hungriest baseball team.

How would you like to infuriate God here?

“Bonjour!” you shout at Fenway Park. “Bonjour, Fenway Park!”

This is a grave sin against God and Bus God alike, for as the Bible states:

“Hello. I am the Lord. Thou shalt never shout the French word ‘Bonjour’ at a sports arena as if that sports arena were a human person who understandeth French. When you shout the word ‘Bonjour’ at a sports arena, the Lord becomes incredibly confused, and He loseth track of what things are giant buildings where sports take place and what things are human men who speak French. This makes the Lord frightened and confused, and the Lord doth stand in the middle of Heaven, screaming and squirting God Syrup out of the faucet that grows out of His forehead.” (Gen. 5:15-19)

Are you sure you want to commit the sin of fornication with Fenway Park, the giant building where the Boston Red Sox live and mumble to each other about how hungry they are?

Okay. What would you like to do instead?

You walk into Fenway Park and run into none other than Babe Ruth, the famous Red Sox pitcher. He looks at you and utters the famous catchphrase that he says every time he strikes a batter out:

“Someone puts children’s teeth under my pillow while I sleep, and when I find out who it is, I’m going to ask them to kill me.”

Wow. Just hearing that famous catchphrase sends chills down your spine. It’s classic Babe. Anyway, what sin would you like to do to Babe Ruth?

You puff out your cheeks, put on your pants, and begin fucking the living daylights out of Fenway Park, home of the Boston Red Sox.

“I’m a huge building!” screams Fenway Park. “People eat hot dogs inside of me and I fuck humans!”

As usual, the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution prevents us from showing you an exact image of what this sexually explicit catastrophe looks like, so please accept the visual metaphor above. The tree in the shape of a human head represents the gentle caress of a lover during a moment of complete physical and emotional harmony, and the birds landing on the tree are a symbol for human genitals thwacking into the brick siding of a baseball stadium with reckless abandon while you fuck Fenway Park.

You continue to commit the terrible sin of fornication with Fenway Park. This is definitely going to make God furious.

“I seat 38,000 people and I’m fucking a stranger!” screams Fenway Park as you continue to do your genitals to this historic stadium, where legends like Pedro Martinez and Wade Boggs achieved baseball greatness.

“Please stop doing your genitals to the stadium!” sobs a policeman who is watching this parade of sin unfold. He blows an air horn into the sky as tears run down his face, but you ignore him. This is your time to have sex with Fenway Park.

Okay. You are done fucking Fenway Park.

“Now we will get married,” says Fenway Park.

“Too bad,” says Fenway Park. “You must marry me. All my life, I have had two dreams: to have Ted Williams bury a bag of endangered birds under my pitcher’s mound, and to be a huge baseball stadium that fucks and marries a stranger on the eve of the apocalypse. I’ve already achieved one of those dreams, and now I must achieve the second. You must marry me.”

“Wonderful,” says Fenway Park. “All my life, I have had two dreams: to have Ted Williams bury a bag of endangered birds under my pitcher’s mound, and to be a huge baseball stadium that fucks and marries a stranger on the eve of the apocalypse. I’ve already achieved one of those dreams, and now I will achieve the second.”

You marry Fenway Park in a weird ceremony. It’s a very happy time for you. Also, since you were already married to your husband and wife, marrying Fenway Park counts as adultery, so that’s a bonus sin that definitely makes God furious. This actually turned out great for you!

It’s time to do more sins around Boston. What would you like to do?

You try to run from Fenway Park, but it’s no use. Fenway Park uses his magic to turn you into this statue of Ted Williams stealing a little boy’s hat. For the rest of eternity, people come by Fenway Park, point at this statue, and tell their children, “That’s why you always marry Fenway Park.”

The End.

You spray the Twin Deans of Harvard with Treasure Juice, the perfume issued by the United States Military that makes people smell like gold coins.

The smell of the treasure attracts a hoard of gold-crazy children. “Those bastards smell like treasure!” screams a 6-year-old girl.

“Give me that goddamn treasure!” bellows an 8-year-old boy.

“I smell it! I smell the treasure!” shrieks a 5-week-old infant who is standing upright and sprinting with the rest of the children. “I need the jewels! I lust for jewels! I smell treasure!”

The mob of treasure-mad kids throw themselves on top of the Twin Deans of Harvard University and tear them limb from limb.

All right, you did it. You murdered the Twin Deans of Harvard. That is a sin that probably made God and Bus God very angry.

“Are you kidding me?” shouts the Mayor of Boston. “Do you know how illegal it is for a sitting mayor of Boston to talk to anyone under 10 years old? It’s the biggest crime you can do. I’m a criminal now! And sadly, the punishment is death for both you and me.”

“It’s standard legal procedure in Boston to administer the same punishment for both the perpetrator and victim of a crime,” says the Mayor of Boston.

Both you and the Mayor of Boston have your heads cut off by Keith Richards (the Boston-based executioner, not the world-famous musician of the same name). Your severed heads are donated to a charity that sends disembodied heads to orphans so that they can practice kissing on them.

The End.

You decide to sin by lying to Babe Ruth.

You take a melon out of your pocket and show it to Babe Ruth. “Hey, Babe, look at this melon. This melon once belonged to none other than Elvis Presley, the king of rock and roll.”

“I want that,” says Babe Ruth. “Give me your famous melon.”

“Okay,” says Babe Ruth, “I will now kill you for your famous rock-and-roll melon.”

He starts walking toward you with the fury of melon lust burning brightly in his eyes.

“All right, it’s one thing to say that your melon once belonged to Elvis Presley and has a magic spell on it, but to say that it’s not those things is completely ridiculous. I know a lie when I hear one. I’m coming for your magic Elvis Melon.”

You try to run, but it’s no use. Babe Ruth catches you and uses his strong pitcher’s arms to pry your head off of your body. He carries your head onto the Fenway Park pitcher’s mound and pitches your head right over the outside corner of the plate at 95 miles per hour. The pitch is so good that it strikes out the greatest hitter of all time, Yankees slugger Babe Ruth.

“Now Elvis’ rock-and-roll melon is mine,” says Babe Ruth. He pries the melon out of your lifeless hand, kisses it, and puts it in his pocket. He silently walks into the ocean. He is never seen again.

The End.

“That’s a good deal,” says Babe Ruth. He takes out his cell phone and calls the police.

“That’s a good deal,” he says to the police before immediately hanging up.

He hands you seven dollars, and you give him one dollar as change. You give him the ordinary melon that he actually thinks belonged to Elvis Presley. He’s so happy. Babe Ruth holds the melon up over his head and walks into the ocean with it. He is never seen again.

Wow! You just swindled Babe Ruth out of six dollars! You’re a truly heinous, unrepentant sinner!

You stand there like a dope while Babe Ruth uses his strong pitcher’s arms to pry your head off of your body. He carries your head onto the Fenway Park pitcher’s mound and pitches your head right over the outside corner of the plate at 95 miles per hour. The pitch is so good that it strikes out the greatest hitter of all time, Yankees slugger Babe Ruth.

“Now Elvis’ rock-and-roll melon is mine,” says Babe Ruth. He pries the melon out of your lifeless hand, kisses it, and puts it in his pocket. He silently walks into the ocean. He is never seen again.

The End.

You look off into the distance and see a volcano erupting. Volcanoes only erupt when God gets so angry at a sin that he turns to one of his angels and whispers, “Are you kidding me with all this crazy sin?”

In other words, this is a good sign. You’re definitely pissing off God. Pretty soon, you’ll do so much sin that God will destroy all of Boston and you’ll have $5,000 in insurance money!

What sorts of sins would you like to do now?

You retract your fingers into your hand, allow your tongue to wilt into a pile of ash, and begin fucking Babe Ruth, a very good pitcher for the Boston Red Sox.

“I don’t like baseball,” says Babe Ruth, yawning as you make careless love to his emperor’s groin.

As usual, the wretched First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution prevents us from showing you what’s actually happening, but the metaphor above should give you a very good idea. The symbolism is so obvious and heavy-handed that we won’t bother explaining it, unless you want an explanation.

Okay, now you will murder Babe Ruth.

You spray Babe Ruth with Treasure Juice, the perfume issued by the United States Military that makes people smell like gold coins.

The smell of the treasure attracts a hoard of gold-crazy children who come sprinting toward Babe Ruth with a jewel-frenzied look in their eyes.

“Holy Christ! Babe Ruth smells like treasure!” screeches a 5-year-old girl.

“I need the jewel smell! I need the gold! Babe Ruth smells just like the doubloons I crave!” screams a 9-year-old boy.

“I’m Red Sox,” says Babe Ruth as the children swarm him and begin to tear him limb from limb.

“I love doubloons! I love jewels!” bellows a 3-week-old infant as he holds one of Babe Ruth’s severed fingers up to his nose and inhales deeply. “Ah! The smell of treasure! I love to satisfy my lust for gold by tearing Babe Ruth to pieces!” the infant moans.

All right, you did it. You killed Babe Ruth. Good sin.

Okay, cool. Anyway, that up there is a picture of you fucking Babe Ruth.

Nice. Fucking Babe Ruth was a pretty offensive sin for sure. God’s probably furious.

All right, so it’s very simple. The fish, obviously, represents Babe Ruth being naked, and the puzzle pieces on the ground represent Babe Ruth having clothes on. Notice that the fish (Babe Ruth being naked) is not touching the puzzle pieces (Babe Ruth having clothes). This represents how naked Babe Ruth is (all the way naked).

The man holding the red umbrella is a symbol for holding a red umbrella while fucking Babe Ruth. Notice how he’s not looking at the fish of Babe Ruth’s nudity. This is to represent the fact that you don’t have to be looking at Babe Ruth to be having sex with Babe Ruth. (Many people have made love to Babe Ruth without ever even meeting him.)

The fields of cellos sprouting out of the ground represent the Five Noises of Fucking: “Morba,” “Yagg,” “Enough,” “Proot,” and “I Have Returned!” These are the Five Noises that everyone makes while they have sex.

The spiral staircase leading nowhere is a metaphor for fucking Babe Ruth in the sky, while the ship represents fucking Babe Ruth on the ocean.

The four planet Earths that are floating around in the background are a metaphor for performing sexual tasks in the presence of a good baseball player.

The ocean is a symbol for you taking off your pants and doing genital mischief to Hall of Fame baseball player Babe Ruth in an attempt to destroy Boston in exchange for ill-gotten insurance money.


Are you sure? The explanation is very long, and it’s all pretty obvious just from looking at it.

Excellent. So you’ve fucked Babe Ruth. That’s an amazing sin. God is probably furious.

You walk into one of the religion laboratories and discover a religion scientist. She is doing an experiment where she looks at a tube.

“We may never know if God wears a shark tooth necklace,” says the religion scientist. “We don’t even know for sure if God knows what shark tooth necklaces are.”

“Well, we know with certainty that Bus God is a giant celestial bus. So maybe.”

“It’s a well-known fact that God’s least favorite sin is mutiny. The lowest level of Hell is reserved for mutineers, and God once went on Howard Stern and screamed ‘I hate mutiny’ over and over again until Howard Stern paid God $20 to leave.”

“Yeah, God really can’t stand mutiny. The Bible says that one time, on Noah’s Ark, a horse and an iguana teamed up to try to commit mutiny and take control of the ark from Noah. God was so furious at this attempted mutiny that He cursed the iguana and the horse and combined them into a single animal, and that’s where iguanas with horses’ heads come from.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, that will be fine,” says the religion scientist.

You retract your head into your body, shrink your erogenous foot, and begin fucking the religion scientist.

The sex is boring and perverted. Unfortunately, the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution has once again reared its ugly head and prevented us from showing you an actual depiction of the fucking in action. Please accept this visual metaphor instead.

The giant clock is a metaphor for two sets of genitals coming together to form a huge clock. The meadow that the clock is in is a metaphor for being out of breath during the arduous chore of lovemaking.

Nice! You did the sin of fucking, and you learned that God hates mutiny more than anything. Now you know how to really make Him angry.

“Yes, that will be fine,” says the religion scientist.

“Okay,” says the religion scientist.

Jesus Christ. You have no moral compass at all. You just completely misrepresented your scientific credentials to an actual scientist. God is probably hopping up and down with rage right now.

You’ve now learned that God’s least favorite sin is mutiny. Now you know how to really make Him angry.

“I don’t see why not,” says the religion scientist.

You spray the religion scientist with Treasure Juice, the perfume issued by the United States Military that makes people smell like gold coins.

The smell of the treasure attracts a hoard of gold-crazy children, who come sprinting down the hallowed corridors of Harvard, clearly insane with their desire for doubloons.

“I smell gold coins!” shrieks a 4-year-old girl, sniffing the religion scientist intently. “Holy shit! This brainiac smells like doubloons!”

“I’ve lost my mind to the aroma of jewels!” bellows an infant who was born earlier this morning.

The treasure-crazed children tear the religion scientist limb from limb.

Nice! You murdered the religion scientist. That’s a good sin. Plus, you’ve learned that God hates mutiny more than anything. That’s valuable information to have. Now you know how to really make Him angry.

You walk out of the lecture hall and return to the Religious Studies Department lobby. Maybe you should go find a religion scientist who can help you make God angry.

“The sad fact is, we’ll probably never know for sure if God wears a shark tooth necklace. Some people believe that God definitely wears a shark tooth necklace because it is nice to imagine God parading around Heaven showing off His shark tooth necklace to all the angels and saying, ‘Look what I’ve got, assholes. It’s a tooth from a shark, which is a type of angry duck.’

“On the other hand, many scholars believe that God’s neck is too thick for any shark tooth necklace to fit around. Over the years, both sides have made valid points.”

“Christ, as we know, was crucified without any shark tooth necklaces on, but as he hung on the cross, his disciples kept coming up to him and placing dozens of shark tooth necklaces around his neck over the course of several days. By the time he died, Christ was wearing 75 shark tooth necklaces. This is where Jesus’ famous ‘Pile them on, you sons of bitches!’ quote in the Gospel of Peter comes from.”

“But this story does little to shed light on whether or not God Himself wears a shark tooth necklace. According to the Bible, every Halloween, God shows up in the bedroom windows of naughty children and shows them His shark tooth necklace. If an unlucky child sees God in their bedroom window showing off His shark tooth necklace, the child will explode.

“This is a well-known story, but it’s unclear whether it’s true or whether it’s a lie the Devil made up in order to scare people into buying venetian blinds.”

“In conclusion, mankind will probably never know for sure whether or not God wears a shark tooth necklace. Personally, I like to believe that God doesn’t even have a neck. He’s just legs and a head with no nose. Anyway, nothing matters and death is optional. Class dismissed.”

The students burst into applause for their brilliant professor and then file out of the lecture hall.

The Mutiny Appreciation Parade is wonderful. Suddenly, there’s a crash of thunder, and the clouds part to reveal a divine light shining down from Heaven.

“ENOUGH,” a terrifying voice booms from the sky. “I AM GOD. YOUR WANTON CELEBRATION OF MUTINY THE BOAT CRIME OFFENDS ME DEEPLY. YOU MUST CEASE AT ONCE.”

“BEEP BEEP!” booms a giant celestial bus horn from the sky.

“THAT’S BUS GOD,” says God. “HE’S HERE TOO, AND HE’S AS FURIOUS AS I AM. IF YOU DO NOT END THIS TRIBUTE TO MUTINY AT ONCE, MY WRATH SHALL BE GREAT AND TERRIBLE TO BEHOLD.”

In a moment of supreme cowardice, you call off the Mutiny Appreciation Day Parade. You almost got God to turn Boston into a modern-day Sodom, but then you chickened out at the last second. God and Bus God laugh at you because of how small and pathetic you are.

As punishment for all your sins, God makes you call him “Gordon” for the rest of your life, which doesn’t seem like a terrible punishment until you actually have to live with it. It’s the worst. When you pray, it sounds like you worship a guy named Gordon. It’s extremely embarrassing.

The End.

With a wave of your hand, the Mutiny Players Brass Band begins to play the opening notes of the Mutiny National Anthem. You sing the beautiful words with all the heart and soul you can muster:

The Mutiny National Anthem (Sung to the tune of “Born To Run” by Bruce Springsteen)

Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny!
We doff our caps to thee, O Mutiny!
Mutiny! The Cadillac of crimes!

I love to take control of a boat,
And when the captain says, “Don’t do that!”
I love to say, “Be quiet! I’m doing it!”

Finally! A crime that’s just for the ocean!
At last! A special mischief you can do on a boat!

Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny!
[six-hour coughing fit]
Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny!
And if anyone here is celebrating a birthday,
I hope it’s good!

Fin.

As soon as you finish singing the Mutiny National Anthem, huge fireballs and bus tires start raining down from the sky, setting all of Boston ablaze.

“I WARNED YOU!” says God. “I TOLD YOU THERE WOULD BE WRATH, BUT YOU DIDN’T LISTEN.”

“BEEP BEEP!” yells Bus God.

Boston is completely destroyed. You did it! You heroically turned yourself into a one-person crime factory and got the Lord to incinerate the city!

You and the Mayor split the $10,000 insurance policy. You use your share of the money to buy magazines.

The End.

You’ve seen enough of Boston, so you say goodbye to Old Ancient Michael and return to Adultery Square. What would you like to do now?

“This is a statue of Paul Revere. During the Revolutionary War, he famously rode his horse through the streets of Boston screaming ‘I’m British! I’m British!’ He’s an important part of Boston’s legacy.”

“This is Boston Harbor. It’s where the Boston Tea Party took place. The Boston Tea Party is the event during the American Revolution when a group of angry colonists rebelled against the British by throwing tea into the ocean. This established an important United States tradition of throwing beverages into the ocean as a way to punish our enemies. During World War II, in order to combat Hitler, American soldiers dumped over 6,000 cans of Coca-Cola into Boston Harbor. All the fish here are dead.”

“The tour of Boston is over now,” says Old Ancient Michael.

You return to Adultery Square. You were too busy learning about Boston to get much sinning done, so you’ll have to sin extra hard to make up for lost time. What would you like to do now?

You make your way to Harvard’s Physics Department.

It’s kind of empty here. There’s just a weird girl standing at the end of the hallway.

The Physics Department didn’t really work out. Where would you like to go instead?

No answer...

“Physics,” says the girl at the end of the hallway. She speaks in your father’s voice.

“Help me,” the girl repeats back to you in your own voice. This is getting a little too creepy. Maybe it’s time to leave.

You turn around, but find yourself looking down the same hallway with the same strange girl at the end of it.

“Physics,” says the girl in your father’s voice. “Help me,” she says in your voice.

Too late! The girl emerges from the floor as if it were water. She’s a goddamn ghost! She grabs you by the throat and drags you through the floor into a horrible void.

Oh, man! That was a big mistake. You get to the end of the hallway and realize pretty quickly that this girl is a malevolent ghost (i.e., “phantom”) from the Realm of the Dead. She grabs you by the throat and pulls you through the floor as if it were water.

You wake up in a white void with nothing but this faceless creature waist-deep in a pile of money. The creature keeps scooping up armfuls of money, throwing them into the air, and then letting the bills rain down over his head.

After a moment, the creature speaks.

“I am Money Creature,” he says as he throws money into the air. “I sent my demon servant to kidnap you and bring you to my kingdom in the Money Zone. Now you will spend eternity watching me throw my money into the air. There’s almost $3,000 in my huge pile of money. Jealous?”

You spend the rest of eternity watching Money Creature throw money in the air forever. It’s horrible. Congratulations.

The End.

You travel to Harvard’s department of Yelling Sciences. It looks like these scientists are working hard on developing new types of yelling. It’s probably best not to disturb them.

Where would you like to go instead?

All right, well, you hung up on the Mayor of Boston. It sounded like he had something important to tell you, but I guess you’ve got better things to do.

The End.

“All right, so basically, there were these two cities, Sodom and Gomorrah. The people in these cities did all sorts of terrible sins, like thinking about their own butts on the Sabbath and dipping their middle fingers into bowls of warm water without announcing it beforehand. As punishment for all these sins, God and Bus God teamed up to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.”

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