*See Appendix γ for a mostly non typoed version **In reality the speech by Tim was so riddled with typos that its original meaning has been forever lost.

The mop of angry fries surrounded the tall malls of the lace. Seeing know way in but up the fries took fright and quickly landed on the Tod of the building. “Please don’t harm me” pleaded Tod “I’m only here because of some bizarre transcription error! I am completely !uuocәuti” “You chain innocence but we believe you ton!” The wrench fries proclaimed “We shall make you day!” At this door Tod exploded in a rash of light. Tod winched as he started scratching his light. “Your feeble attempts to bash me will only end in you sailing!” “That is what you thank!” Retorted the lead fry, “Your gracious attitude will end in room!” At this the fries tried to board their fail boats but it only resulted in sailing. The fries attempts to invade Tod were being thwarted by the intermittent typing mirrors. The mirrors made quite a daunting light, not as light as the rash of Tod, but right enough to offend the left handed fries who rolled out their weapons with the intent of mashing the mirrors. The mirrors, however, were to quack for the fries and with their new found duck-like reflexes they voided the attacks of the fries. While the fries and mirrors were preoccupied trying to bill each other, Tod tried to sneak away without being caught in the accounting nightmare. Sadly his sneaking was two loads of a noise which attracted the attention of the fries and mirrors onto Tim. “Wait!” wailed Tim “I’m a victim of the same circumstances that surrounded Tod, except that I am truly innocent of propagating the repeated typing errors. You need to help end this cycle, remember who you once were, you were not always fries but were flies until this random error struck. Continuing to spread these errors will only result in more chaos and disasters. This vicious cycle must be stopped and that starts with the last people to be affected.** “Stopping these errors is a more difficult task than you say, one never knows when they might appear, burning the simplest phase into on of the upmost befaffelment!” staided a fry “revolsting against the errors is tudder intupidy!” “Psag!” cried Tim, “The typos are becoming more sever than I ever thought possible!” “Is there sonything that can be done to pretop these errors that won’t ensult win devestruction?” “Do you not see that these errors have brought forth more destruction , more devastation, then they could ever cause if forced away. I have freed myself of such errors and I am perfractally pine!” at this Tim transploded into a typogramatical mess spluttering the ground with punctuation and unintelligent characters. “Avost!” cried dumb pirate Andy “how arrre I getting here?” “Ye fool” intruded stupid Joe the lesser of the Joes “Everyone knows pyrites ‘Avast’ and not ‘Avost’” “It wasn’t Andy’s felt” medieval Mel the maniacal non-alliterative person stated “It doth be the cloth of the typos!” “Then we doth need to shimber the tivers and buckle the swash of these vile typos, Arrrrhoy!” At this the three unintelligent characters rushed upon the typos with enough lack of knowledge to not know that there was no physical manifestation of a typo to destroy.

The angry mob of flies marched across the countryside, destroying everything in sight. Fortunately for the non fly populous, due to poor lighting conditions everything in sight consisted of a dead tree stump and one of the flies’ own houses. Such matters did no deter the angry mob, they kept on marching towards the dim glow of civilization over the hill. However when they reached the peak they discovered that the glow originated not from civilization but from their own torches being help by future versions of themselves. The flies past selves conferred with their future selves and determined the best course of action would be to send the future versions ahead while the other group waited for their past versions to arrive (this was mostly determined by the future flies shouting “we’re older, thus listen to us!”). With the minor distortion to the space time continuum cleared up the future flies continued their pillagious march down the far side of the Mound of Temporal Anomalies! becoming ever closer to fulfilling their malicious intents of revenge and desire for chocolate dipped water.* “Wait!” wailed Cobbler “Couldn’t we resolve this minor grievance without resorting to such ancient forms of barbarism?” “Whatever do you mean there Cobbler?” inquired a well aged English looking fly “We were just aboot to stop in for a spot of crickolo**” “What happened to the plot to punish the people for practically pushing use past alliterative possibilities?” “Less alliterative possibilities? Surely such a savage scenario would result in storage in synapses.” Suddenly such a realization sunk in. “The truth you doth speak, to battle henceforth!” And thus Cobbler fulfilled his destiny of restoring the tickle and ushering in an age of darkness, despair and laughter; for the second time this week! The mob continued now with renewed determinations and re-lit torches towards the actual dim glow of civilization coming from the nearest pickle-purchasing place with torches held aloft chanting various war cries such as: “Down with flooding, out with water!” “Dis-tractors are devious!” “Where’s my luggage?” And so with much enthusiasm and a little confusion the mob loomed closer and closer to the ever diminishing dimness of light. As the mob grew close they saw the flowing sign:

*Cobbler’s mind tends to regress when under stress; in this case his mind is now running in the medieval ages.

With a flash of nauseating puce, Migraine Man staggered in carrying de-toasted dog stuffed into a frosted water bottle. Once again Migraine Man had saved the day using his amazing possession of power of painful pressure present on places placed over potatoes (i.e. brains). “Greetings mere mortal flies, normal flies and the occasional immortal fly” boomed Migraine Man “I have brought back your stolen items and restored this land back to a state of peace, prosperity and putrid stench.” At this Migraine Man descended amidst the flies cheers and hoorays handing out the reclaimed spoils of the war that was not a war, but rather an armed robbery, without the arms. “However I must hasten off to my hideout, the Headache Hovel, Huzzah!.” “Who was that terribly mysterious masked fly?” Fred asked around. “Indeed, I think that Migraine Man can completely solve several persistent problems of ours!” “Foolish Fred,” Robert retorted “Migraine Man didn’t dispose of old Gooda Gustav judiciously just to torture us using his horribly pathetic-problem-solving skills! We watched how his supposed skills destroyed dozens of our favorite farms!” “Really Robert?” Fred fumed “I irrationally thought that Gooda Gustav wasn’t wasteful, uninformed, uneducated, bean-brained…” “Hey Migraine Man was trying his best!” interjected Cobbler who had mysteriously and suddenly appeared after Migraine man suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. “Migraine Man certainly could have handled things tons better, but he hardly tried” Timothy said “shouldn’t he have made modifications to that Migraine Man name? Nothing could confuse more multitudes of ordinary people.” “What are you talking about? Migraine Man’s derives his name form the same place he derives his power” Cobbler cried “Migraine sounds a lot like migration, and birds migrate and everyone knows that ‘birds of a feather flock together’ and a feather is what he uses to tickle people” “Wait!” Wally exclaimed “Everyone fully forgot how helpless everyone effectively becomes because of old-fashioned feathers! Quick we must cast of this silly speech pattern and head to the chicken coops, a feather for every fly and the world is ours!” At this Wally and the others rushed towards the farms gathering all the flies from the village forming a mob full of flies carrying torches, feathers and the occasional flaming feather. “Forsooth, alack and alas!*” Cobbler wailed “We shan’t revolt against our masters, it doth not be right, nay it doth not even be left, it doth be an affront and abomination to all mankind it doth be a disgrace for all that we stand for!” “But we are tsetse flies not men.” protested a random fly “so who cares what mankind thinks.” “Alas ‘tis true, such logic cannot be bested by word or sword. Avast let loose the feather of WAR!”

While Cobbler’s village was drying out the grand overseeing council of tsetse fly met to listen to what Cobbler had discovered. The rest of the tsetse flies in the village went to work cleaning out that nasty taste of wet drywall which tasted like dry wet-wall and the dirt was all muddy. The flies developed a mixture or frozen water and melted ice that would alleviate the problems but it would wear out and the problems would return. Suddenly from over the hill came an almost familiar sound. It sounded like a tractor or two but there was a strange sound that made it hard to tell what it was. The other sound seemed to come from somewhere else, it was so distracting that nobody noticed when two tractors appeared over the horizon and rolled into the fly’s village. “Vahoy!” Cried the person on the tractor who may or may not sound like Gustav Da Gooda, “I have come to peddoole my wares and wear some poodles. I have come to show off my new and improoved tractors. Take a look at dis tractor” at this the person jumped off his normal looking tractor and pointed towards a very abnormal looking tractor, it had bells with whistles and whistles with bells all sorts of twings and deets. “Va, dis tractor is amazing it’s got big wheels, it’s got bigger wheels, it’s even got dis amazing internool comboostion engine dat makes things go ka-booma! It doth be vay better dan dat tractor over there” gesturing towards and even more no-descript tractor that looked exactly like a normal tractor, except for a diabolical looking man wearing a name tag that said “Hello my name is: not a robber”. As all the flies “ooohed” and “wowed” over the amazing automatic dog-buttering and global spiciness indicator. They were so enthralled with it’s de-flossing attachment that they didn’t notice that dat tractor was roaming around the village pillaging and pilfering everything it could reach. And the flies were certainly to preoccupied watching dis tractor and it’s self cleaning de-toaster to see dat tractor leaving with everything but the kitchen sink (being tsetse flies sanitation is not highly sought after and thus indoor plumbing is not an amenity in most every tsetse fly village house). Suddenly dis tractor exploded in a spectacular display of color, sparks and slightly flossed, toasted buttered dogs (which increased the spiciness of the world by 3). The explosion caused such dense smoke and butter that the flies couldn’t even see their houses. After the smoke cleared and the butter mostly solidified the flies realized that they couldn’t see their houses because their houses weren’t there! “Gasp” cried a fly, “they took my automatic dog flosser!” “Nooo! they got my self frosting water bottle maker!” cried another. “Not my automatic de-toasting machine” whined a third. “Have no fear!! Migraine Man is here!” boomed a voice that sounded obviously not like Cobbler. “Up up and away…ow my head!”

*Cobbler was a member of Thy Old English Club in high school and thus able to converse in old English **Cobbler had ran out of things to say in old English but had plenty to say as a pirate ^Not available at really big city for $9π/7

The tsetse flies were saved from their inability to sleep and immediately celebrated by sleeping though the entire day of Jumpbary. Throughout the village cobbler could hear the sounds of sleeping flies, the calmed breathing, the loud snoring, and the gurgling and choking of flies drowning in the rising waters. Cobbler suddenly realized something was amiss, why were the screams and cries of flies talking in their sleep? Cobbler realized another thing, he was standing in a foot of water (the lack of sleep has made Cobbler a bit slow). Cobbler needed to warn the all the sleeping flies but how could he? They were all asleep and it would be rube for him to wake them all up just to tell them not to drown, but on the other hand it would be a bit rube to let them all die. Cobbler decided that he would consult the book of random rudeness.

*4 out of 5 Davids agree that French words have too many unnecessary letters. **A Ted is a unit of work approximately equal to the amount of work that Ted can do which is equal to 21.58 kJ according to Hibbeler 247

The grand overseeing council of the tsetse flies (consisting of a crazy old fly and the very wise voice in his head) can up with two plans for fixing the problem of trying to sleep with the constant Canadian that Blockflöten had directly caused, but was also indirectly caused by Cobbler, one which involved hurling him into the sea and hope that he finds his was to Canada (Eh? Eh? Eh? Eh?) where he would be integrated into their society and become a contributing member of the aforementioned society in Canada, the other, being one which involved using extremely long run-on sentences, caused an extensive debate on how in the world this could actually work, as a run-on sentence dose nothing but seriously annoy the reader but usually has no effect whatsoever on the characters described in the sentence as they do not directly interact with the letters and words, let alone the sentences and them adhering to or ignoring the commonly accepted codes of grammar, however this sparked another controversy on whether there were any commonly accepted codes of grammar because, after all, different places have vastly different ideas on what makes a grammatically valid sentence, such as the difference between the tsetse flies, who insist on the presence of a subject and verb as opposed to the French who insist that for a series of words to be a sentence at least 50% of the letters must be unnecessary*, luckily the mention of French brought the topic of conversation to countries that speak French and then to Canada which got the discussion back to how to solve the previously mentioned problem of sleeping under the influence of Canada which led back to the question whether a run-on sentence could have any influence on the people described in the previously mentioned sentence, however this discussion was interrupted by some crazy fly who was somehow convinced that they were currently living in a run-on sentence and that they would cease to exist when the period came and ended the sentence, but of course this silly notion was dismissed by the flies because it was so utterly and completely nonsensical and it even made then realize that the plan to throw the Blockflöten into the ocean was also nonsensical, ridiculous, unreasonable, absurd, silly and insane but ordinary circumstances require ordinary solutions and this was no ordinary circumstance, so with out much further ado, delay or postponements (there is only a little ado left) the crazy old fly grabbed Blockflöten and threw him into the ocean accomplishing the work of .35 Teds** as the voice in his head concluded saying: “The ways of mice and flies may change like the winds but no matter what they do during the night in the morning the sea still rises.”

^mice are notorious for being bad at estimation ^^In the backside of the page, the word “police” refers to the fuzz that grows when an old bagel is dipped in chicken-flavored mud. **Les langues officielles du Canada sont anglaises et françaises *Canada’s official languages are English and French** °Peter complained aboot this part, eh? °°The hair belongs to Joe, but it’s on Cobbler’s head.

“Noo! Not the afro of…” cried Cobbler but he was interrupted by a totally random guy with a giant “Hello, my name is Joe” sticker on his back who fell out of his hair and landed on him “Arg! How did I end up in the hair? That’s just disgusting; there were a bunch of lice taking advice from some nice mice that twice used a device that changed rice into ice-covered dice, Yeawk! I hate rhymes!” Joe (the random one) screamed and ran off into the distance, leaving Cobbler alone with the afro. “What’s (Squeakity) wrong with (Squeak) that guy?” asked a mouse from the afro, “He started (Squeak) yelling about (SQUEAK!!) rhymes and (Squawk?) rhymeaphobia and (Squeak) having words (Squeak) close in (Squeak) one him (Squeak) or something (Squeak) like that. (Squeak)” “Yeah, he was really (Squeak!) about the (Squeak!)” said another mouse. “Squeak, Squeaken, Squeaked, Moo!” interjected a third. “Wait a minute!” cried Cobbler, “how many mice are in this afro anyway?” “Huh, that’s a tough question, mice count everything in base 5.123 so it’s really hard to count past 5, but don’t worry I estimate that there are only about 4 mice in your hair^’ reassured the first mouse. “Well four isn’t too bad, you can stay as long as you don’t cause too much trouble.”said Cobbler said as he headed off towards his home. The path to Cobblers home was a very dangerous one, there were massive berry-flavored lava pits with vicious banana-flavored ones hidden amongst them. After the lava was the Forest of Whoa, a forest the full of talking trees saying things like, “Whoa, my moss grows in the dark” and “Whoa, that tree just talked”. After the forest is the worst thing of all, the Caverns of Confusions, which is made up of a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. Normally, Cobbler would just fly over all these dangerous things and have a relatively easy trip. However, the extra weight of the afro and the estimated four mice weighed him down so much that he couldn’t get over the peak of the mountain. He strained and tried but he just wasn’t strong enough. And then, with his strength gone, he plummeted down towards the sharp rocky floor below him in the Caverns of Confusion. FOOOP! (Squeak) POOOF! Luckily for Cobbler and his band of merry mice, the giant afro happened to be very fluffy and squishy and thus it prevented the injury of everyone (except for that one mouse that was stationed at the lookout post who was turned into a pancake). Cobbler arose and looked around the cave. It was a normal-looking cave. In fact, it was a regular cave. “Hmm, I wonder why they call this the Caves of Confusion if nothing is con – EEWW! Yuk! Yak! yew!” cried Cobbler as he tripped over a mouse-pancake, “This pancake looks like a mouse but it tastes like a pancake, that’s very confusion.” Cobbler tried to regain his composure, but, before he could, he saw the following sing.

months

*see appendix β for the calendar used on the back side of the page. **Constantly Electrocuted Organisms ***A cobbler is basically a pie that is square, thus π2 = Cobbler.

After a long 3 month conflict (it started on Estándo Biéndolos 3rd and ended on the 54th of Appothymer)*, the War of The Farmers finally ended at the battle of fertilizer hill. The War of the Farmers was started when two farmers go into an argument about what vegetables kids hate the most. The House of Pork was losing the battle due to the lack of food (their pigs were too useful in battle for them to be eaten) and the constant bombardment of giant cucumbers from the opposing side, the House of Lamb Castles. The giant cucumbers could be used for food but it was too dangerous to harvest them because of the threat of being squashed by cucumbers from the sky. The turning point in the wars was when the radioactive tsetse flies were found to be indestructible, and were sent out to retrieve the cucumbers form the battle grounds and forced to work in pickle factories making rations for the soldiers (radioactive flies were not used as soldiers because of there tendency to be easily distracted by all the garbage and debris on the battlefield). Problems arose when it was discovered that the tsetse flies had been using cheap tiny plastic imitation cucumbers because they would get very bad headaches when they were hit from the giant falling cucumbers. This caused an outrage from the soldiers, not because they didn’t like the plastic pickles (they were actually much better tasting than the alternative, a synthetic polymer version of a brine and vinegar treated fruit form the Cucumis Sativus plant) but because an unknown third party promised to give them a bunch of free candy if they protested against the tsetse flies and their nefarious cost cutting schemes. The House of York revoked the pickle pickling license form the tsetse flies and had the “Candy Store and Pickle Factory that Definitely Doesn’t Secretly use Tsetse Fly Slave Labor” produce their pickle products. This further caused the flies to become oppressed because in reality the “Candy Store…” place actually did secretly uses tsetse fly for slave labor (except for their Canadian subsidiary that used them for slave labour). The only other jobs available for large radioactive flies were even worse than slave labor, like being crash-test dummies, cleaning dorms or being CEO’s** of multi billion dollar corporations. One of the worst off tsetse flies was Radium Enriched Tsetse Fly Number 9.8696044… (often shortened to Rad Rich Fly num. ππ [usually further shortened to RaEF #π^2 {shortened even further to Cobbler*** (which is not usually shortened to Cob)}]). One of the problems Cobbler had that even though he was rather large for a tsetse fly he was rather small for a radioactive tsetse fly. He also had a very hard time filling out official paperwork because it took a very long time to write out his full official name due to the fact that it had 29 characters followed by an infinite series of numbers after it. The worst problem Cobbler had was that he was a Sus scrofa biting amplification, intensification and weaponization tester, so he basically spent his time being bitten by angry pigs with various types of dentures designed to maximize damage done per bite as well as the BPM (bites per minute).Cobbler was one of best employees at the testing facility, mostly because he got laryngitis and thus couldn’t scream very loud, and was rewarded by being the only tester they kept after the War of the Farmers was over. Sadly Cobbler’s life was going to get even worse, for he had dared to argue against the Narrator, a most foolish and… “Wait!” cried Cobbler, “I never argued with the narrator, I heard what happened to that poor fool, Joe. I would never argue with the almighty Narrator” Suddenly Cobbler realized that he had in fact argued with the Narrator about arguing with the Narrator, and thus the Narrator was right when he said the Cobbler had argued with him, the Narrator. “That’s not fair, you tricked me! I’ll report you to the Writer!” Sadly Cobbler didn’t realize that the writer is probably the same person and thus will probably take the side of the Narrator, and thus the Narrator will unleash horrible doom upon the argumentative Cobbler. (Luckily for Cobbler the Writer is slightly annoyed at the Narrator and thus will only allow the Narrator to give Cobbler Joe’s blue afro.) Pow? Blueafaummmm!!!

Chapter 9 A large fat squirrel named Chernobyl ate a vat of radium making him very radioactive.

Chapter 10 Because of poor sanitation a large number of tsetse flies appeared and started tickling people, but were stopped because they were easily squished.

Chapter 11 The radioactive squirrel Chernobyl is abandoned by everyone he ever knew, but he meets some tsetse flies and makes them radioactive as well, causing them to grow large in size and to become indestructible, because of their previous reign of terror the tsetse flies are oppressed are forced into pickle making causing them to subsequently lose their little possessions in the great pickle market crash.

The radioactive squirrel, Chernobyl is totally alone Everyone has abandoned him, his friends, family, and even his clone He went out to search the whole land for people that could be his new friends He gave people prizes, like automobiles and personalized pens He found some nice friendly trolls, but sadly they had been turned into stone

A fly looked for food He met a squirrel who’s rude The squirrel had a nasty green glow It made flies shine bright as snow Radiation spewed

No sanitation Rotting garbage everywhere KABLAM! Plague o’ flies

Genus Glossina A creature that flies around It’s a tsetse fly

Flies in your coffee Swimming in all the caffeine Hyper tsetse flies

Zipping here and there Moving too fast to be caught Beware tsetse flies

Flies with little wings Wings that flutter and tickle Hee hee hohuhap

It makes people laugh Laughing so hard that they cry Side aches hurt a lot