Monday, July 29, 2013


Could this be Goat Soup Radio Spring?
Phoenix, AZ. 4:00 AM

Phoenix was once a happy little town. A couple of haciendas, the Erie Canal and a Taco Bell. All that changed however, when word spread like hotcakes that Goat Soup Radio had fabricated all of its news items. Just who started this rumor and for what reason is unknown. However, by Sunday, crowds began to gather outside the corporate headquarters of Goat Soup Radio's parent company, Gooch's Breast Milk International.  Their three demands were simple: bring out the goat, bring back my soup, I'm not finished with it yet and bring back seeded watermelon (centuries from now this would be known as the 'Bring It On Manifesto').

National Guard Surrounds
GSR Headquarters
With as many supporters as there were detractors taking to the streets, it was Phoenixian against Phoenixian, mano y mano, diet versus regular. This sleepy little town now had a middle name and it wasn't Little Becky. SWAT teams were called in to quell the madness, especially if they knew how to write a funny blog. Sporting riot gear and very expensive hoop earrings, the Swatters took immediate action. Letting go with a barrage of really dumb, dum-dum bullets, the police entered the building attempting to move the rioters out. Police Chief Russ Tic Potatoes described the scene. "It was chaos in there. It took us 3 hours to clear those people out. My men kept slipping on all those individual fake cheese plastic wrappers, and the line for the ladies room was clear out the door."

By this time, Goat Soup Radio was off the air. For a good four minutes police searched the building for the men behind the goat.
Hiding under his desk, wearing his 1989 child size 5 Luke Skywalker costume, the man behind all this chicanery, Steve Ryman, was quickly discovered. Pushing through the throngs of Christmas shoppers and goat cheese aficianados he was whisked away to SWAT headquarters.
Steve Ryman Attempting to
Calm the People

Never having watched NCIS, Steven held his ground."I want a lawyer, I want the FCC and I want a beer." Jumping on the desk and pumping his fist in the air, he began to shout, "F-C-C, F-C-C, F-C-C". With no one else joining in, he eventually sat down, very embarrassed.
Later that day, handed a warm cherry Slurpee, Steve broke.

"Yes, it was all me. There is no Lee, no Goat Soup Radio, I can't get a date and I sleep with a light. I don't even like beer. All I have is this associate degree in lilliputian furniture and I'm really from Louie Louie, Washington." (EDITOR'S NOTE: At this point our hero would have hoped for some leniency. However, with only two readers, one being a Scientologist, we will continue with the story.)

Steve receives his much deserved
presidential pardon

Eventually, Steve showed federal prosecutors his temporary tattoo of him and Lee eating at the Ming House all-you-can-eat-Chinese-buffet and he was let go for reasons of national security and predicted rain. Fearing that his future in small engine repair maintenance was in jeopardy, Steve began a free course at the local YMCA in Nigerian finger foods.  He now feels fulfilled and happy.
The end.

No comments:

Post a Comment