“ Everything is about moderation: a little molasses on your bread is healthy for you; a 15 foot high wave of it rushing at you at 35 mph isn't.”
“ Those were the best waves ever, dude!”
On 15 January, 1919, an enormous storage tank containing more than 2 million gallons of the treacherous syrup burst in Boston's Harbor. The newly liberated substance gushed in the streets at lightning speed with a roar that struck the surviving witnesses as a war chant of utmost joy and euphoria. The Molasses Liberation Army had finally seen the day, and was turning the tides of years of confinement as a symbolic gesture for all the exploited and illegally held liquids all across the world. The sudden outburst killed 21 people and injured 150 other. This has to be one of the strangest and most peculiar disaster in American History, along with the 2007 MTV Awards Britney Spears fiasco.
The substance broke free in a victorious howl that could be heard for miles: the storage tank literally exploded and the rebellious liquid rushed out, forming a vengeful tsunami that managed to lift a nearby train off its tracks. Onlookers who didn't take a dive reported that the muck's rage was so intense that it made the ground tremble and the racket the tank rivets produced when giving way sounded like the Thunder God himself was liberating His children in a stupendous move of Fury. The mere mortals on the scene just stood there paralyzed with fear, trembling before the mighty wave that consumed everything in its path. The avenging charge flowed forth exerting a pressure of 2 ton/ft2, mercilessly engulfing humans, pets, and even a lawyer, therefore proving that it had a softer side. Some profiteering bastards living on the implicated buildings' second floor could be seen frantically trying to butter their sliced bread with the molasses that was gushing by their street.
The more moderate part of the muck deliberately missed its intended human targets by making a beeline for the nearby ocean, refusing to kill mere mortals to make a revolutionary statement. The fishing industry in the area collapsed due to the fish' unpalatable taste and the boats attempting vainly to navigate in the thick oily garbage.
Some witnesses came forward with shocking descriptions of the event:
“Molasses, waist deep, covered the street and swirled and bubbled about the wreckage. Here and there struggled a form — whether it was animal or human being was impossible to tell. Only an upheaval, a thrashing about in the sticky mass, showed where any life was... Horses died like so many flies on sticky fly-paper. The more they struggled, the deeper in the mess they were ensnared. Human beings — men and women — suffered likewise.”
“Well, when the molasses came gushing by two hours ago *munch-munch* I was on my way to the restaurant. I miraculously managed to survive because I was riding the wave's top *munch-munch* *slurp* therefore staying afloat the whole time! I then rescued a lady who was stuck in it *scrountch-scrountch* *burp* Sorry, could I have some more milk to go with this?”
The evil, terrorist slush who had claimed numerous lives solidified itself around its victims' bodies, making the identification process hazardous. In a touching posthumous homage, the Boston city council decided to display the corpses in an art gallery, naming the exposition molassesworks.
During the months following the event, pathologists recorded an acute recrudescence in diabetes, gastro-intestinal and chocking-on-overly-buttered-toasts related fatalities. In fact, a great amount of patients came to receive care thanks to clogged digestive tracts which prevented them from evacuating their bowels for days. Ex-Lax and plungers' sales skyrocketed to an all-time high, toilet paper companies declared bankruptcy while plumbers worked around-the-clock.
Workers shoveled molasses ad nauseam for weeks, dipping their muffins in it during their pauses. Said workers have been rumored to be sexually frustrated thanks to the clean-up operations, since the perfume they bore literally stuck to their body, effectively repelling their female counterparts. After a couple of weeks, the molasses had turned so hard that the "molassters" had to resort to the use of explosives to remove it.
The United States Industrial Alcohol Company had to pay a whopping $6.47 in damages to the victims' families, which is the equivalent of 8,7 x 10376 dollars in 2011. Rumors were floating around that the company stocked massive amounts of molasses in the tanker and overfilled it to prepare themselves for the Prohibition, since the substance was used to make rum. Bostonians were therefore screwed twice and reacted accordingly: when the death toll was announced, they were not too pleased; when they realized this disaster prevented them from easily acquiring cheap booze, the city erupted in a boiling rage! Everything settled when Al Capone moved in the vicinity.
To this day, on hot summer afternoons, people in the area can still detect a mild molasses smell, a testament to that fateful 1919 disaster. Nostradamus predicted the next tragedy in Boston will occur on 21 December 2012, when governor Mitt Romney will order the controlled demolition of Harvard University and blame it on Antarctica.