UnNews:Tragedy Strikes Texas
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Tragedy Strikes Texas
Truth doesn't "live here" — It's just camping out
Sunday, April 30, 2017, 03:32:UTC)(
17 December 2007
SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS -- You see that big power plant over there, over the landfill and just behind the sewage processing plant? Yeah, that one, with the four story tall smokestacks. Well, that power plant emits roughly two and a half tons of toxic waste into the nearby reservoir each day, but its somewhat vile contributions to the water supply looks like sugar candy when compared to what was allegedly added this past weekend.
The perpetrators are suspected of having added five whole barrels of the forgetfulness-inducing neurotoxin Neruphosiasis to the San Antonio reservoir last Saturday. Since then, other quantities have been traced to the Coca-Cola bottling plant's supply, the Budweiser and Miller breweries, and even the personal stash of the official Beer Drinker's and Hell Raiser's committee, the single largest gathering hall of Texan beer drinkers and hell raisers. By these means, the toxin has entered the bodies of almost 90 percent of the entire San Antonio population and the surrounding five hundred miles. Less than an hour after ingestion, tragedy struck.
"I was at my friend Chuck's house watching the Cowboy's game, or was it the Rangers game?" said San Antonio mechanic Dick Harley, "I went up to get a beer and...nothing. My mind is totally blank from there."
The toxin hit Chuck pretty hard, as his short term memory now only sticks for a full 30 minutes, but we here at UnNews couldn't give a grape's ass about his sob story. One particular memory missing from Chuck's brain, and the brains of everyone else in the area, concerns us to no end.
"The Alamo? What's an Alamo?" said Ace Brickway, self-employed bikini inspector and entrepreneur.
"We don't have Alamos anymore. They got replaced when those cellular phones got invented" said J.G. Wentworth, crazed oil baron.
"Al and Moe? What did those two chumps do this time?" said Moses Wilksweed, professional tobacco spitter.
"Mmmhmm-o? Mhmmm mmhmm mmm..." mumbled rancher Billy Keen-Eye West through his all-encompassing ten gallon hat.
Yes, as of 1800 hours Central Time, the Alamo failed to be remembered. The scarce few unaffected by the toxin tried desperately in the ensuing hours to restore the memory of Texas's proudest moment to the affected, but their efforts were in vain. Self-titled "straight-edge" entertainer Jimmy Robinson tried to help his friends remember by subjecting them to a full five hours of endless touring, with minimal results. One of his friends managed to regain Remembrance Of The Alamo, but kept insisting there was more to the adobe building than there actually was.
"But where's the basement? I need to go to the basement of the Alamo, Francis hid my bike there. What happened to the basement?" the fairly old man in a spiffy gray suit and loud red bowtie asked. Of course, there is no basement in the Alamo, as Jimmy kept telling him. The man was stricken as the thought slowly sunk into his mind, but was soon distracted by a burning pet shop and forgot about the whole incident completely.
Besides the few sporadic cases such as that, the recovery rate has been next to none, so far. More as the story develops.