Clever Friday

A Grimm SubGenius Tale

There was once a SubGenius of superior craftiness named Friday, who when she went out gave herself great airs, and thought herself very fine indeed, as is the wont of a SubGenius of superior craftiness. When she came to visit Reverend Stang, unknown to him, she would take a drink of his wine, and a little smoke of his 'Froppy to refresh herself, and as that gave her an appetite, she would take the best of whatever she had offered to cook of his food for Reverend Stang, until she had had enough--"for," said she to herself, "I'm not being paid to do this."

It happened that during one of her visits to cook and filtch, Reverend Stang came to her and said, "Friday, I expect a guest this evening--none other than the Catholic Pope; you must make ready the best two chickens you can find, so that I can get him fed and drunk enough to invite me over--that I may swipe his silverware." "I will see to it," answered Friday.

So she prepared two chickens BBQ-style, and put them in the oven to roast. And they began to be brown, and were nearly done, but the Pope had not come.

"If that holier-than-thou Polack does not make haste," cried Friday to Reverend Stang, "I'll have to take the chickens out of the oven, just when they are done." And Reverend Stang said he would run himself and fetch the Pope. As soon as he had turned his back, Friday took the fowls out of the oven.

"Working so long in the kitchen," said she, "makes one hot and thirsty--and who knows when they will come! In the meanwhile I will go down to the cellar and have a little drink and some 'Froppy to smoke!" So down she ran, took up a mug, and saying, "Here's to me!" took a good draught. And pulling a monster doobie from what Reverend Stang thought was one of his secret stashes, she fired that sucker up, and said, "Oh, yasss!"

And then she said, "Whoa, that's harsh! Well, I'd better have another drink to take the edge off." Then she went back to the kitchen to check on the chickens again. But by now they began to smell so good that Friday said, "I must really taste test these suckers to make sure they are done," so she tore off and ate a wing from one. Licking her fingers, she then cried, "Well, I never!" (though perhaps she misspoke) "That chicken is *damn* good! It's a sin and a shame that no one is here to eat them!"

So she ran to the window to see if Reverend Stang and his guest, the Pope, were coming, but as she could see nobody she went back to the chickens. "Why, the other wing is burned!" she cried presently, "I had better eat it to get it out of the way." So she cut off the other one and popped it down the hatch.

"Who knows," said she, "whether they are coming or not? They may have decided to visit a knocking shop or strip club." And after a pause, she said again, "Come, I may as well make myself happy, and first I will make sure of a good drink, some fine 'Froppy, and some excellent chicken, and when all is done I can kick back; the gifts of "Bob" are not to be despised." So first she ran down into the cellar and had a big honking mug of wine and two more 'Frop rollies, then she ate up one of the chickens with great relish (for putting relish on BBQ chicken was a 'thing' with her.)

And when that was done and still Reverend Stang did not come, Friday eyed the other chicken. So she got another drinkie-pie and shum more 'Froppie-hee-hee', and the second chicken went the way of the first.

Just as she had finished the second BBQ bird, Reverend Stang returned. "Heave to, Friday, for the Pope is coming directly!" "Okee-dokey," she answered with slurred speech and feigned attention, thrusting him a salute as he left the room, the effort almost sending her sprawling from her chair. Reverend Stang went to see that the table was properly laid, and, taking the great carving knife with which he meant to carve the chickens, he noisily sharpened it upon a whetstone.

Presently came the Pope, knocking very genteelly and softly at the front door. Friday ran and looked to see who it was, and when she caught sight of his ornate robes, she quietly opened the door and put her finger to her lips, saying "Hush! Make the best haste you can from here, for if Reverend Stang catches you, it will be bad for you; he asked you to come to supper, but he really means to cut off your BALLS and eat them! Just listen how he is sharpening his knife!"

The Pope, hearing the noise of the sharpening, made off as fast as he could go. And Friday ran screaming to Reverend Stang. "Why THE HELL did you invite HIM over?" cried she. "Huh?" asked he. "Why, he walked in the front door, grabbed the chickens, and took off running!" she shouted.

"Why, that son-of-a-bitch!" said Reverend Stang, feeling very sorry about missing his dinner; "He might at least have left me one, that bastard." So Reverend Stang took off running after the Pope, knife still clutched in hand, yelling at him to stop. Soon, he was yelling at the Pope, "ONLY ONE! ONLY ONE!", as he ran, meaning that the Pope should *at least* let him have one of the chickens; but the Pope thought he meant to have only *one* of his balls, so he redoubled his speed that he might get home with both of them still attached.


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Original file name: Clever Friday by monet

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