UnBooks:An Uncyclopedian Christmas Tale

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Chapter the First: The Children's Crusade or Plotless Plodding[edit]


Uncyclopedia Orphanage. It snows heavily outside. The children play around the Christmas tree with their brand new toys. A boy rips and tips the dissectable toad he asked Santa for:

NeedABrain: Hmmm... what's that outside? People, there are IPs looking through the window! Poor IPs in the snow... maybe we... kinda... feel guilt? Or even... uh... let them in?
Unison: Noooooo!
NeedABrain: Whatever...  (removes a piece of gut with his toy tweezers)
Braydie: Hmm, if we did let them in though they could contribute to our party.
Chronarion: I say we ban them pre-emptively for being cold in the snow.

Enter Mhaille, boots covered in snow.

Mhaille: Jeez, I've had to trample over dozens of IPs to get here. Hey kids, what's happening?
KWild: I don't know, I'm rarely ever here. Well, bye.

KWild just fades away.

Braydie: Mhaille, thank god you're here. Those IPs have started throwing rocks at the windows.
NeedABrain: I lend you my scalpel, sir!
Braydie: Ahh I thankyou kind sir, however, I don't currently have the dexterity to eliminate IPs. Maybe get one of the big kids to do it.
NeedABrain: Not you, the old man there! You're always trying to steal my toys, aintcha?
Braydie: No, and I swear it wasn't me that stole that knife of yours!
NeedABrain: Liaaar!  (kids start fighting)

Mhaille bangs heads together leaving the children dazed and confused, and makes off with the Christmas turkey.

1 hour passes...

Braydie: Hmm, well we've looked all over for this turkey...
Jamtrousers (calling from the rafters where he hangs like a very large, very ugly bat): Well, there's only one option as far as I can see; we're going to have to eat some of the IPs.
NeedABrain: But is it healthy? How do you cook them?
Braydie: Err, just put them in a pot, heat until done?

Enter DiZ in fancy pinstripe suit.

DiZ: Hi-ho! Is that roasted IP I smell?

Enter Insineratehymn dressed as Ivan the Terrible.

Insineratehymn: I love roasted IP! Hand me some!

Insineratehymn steps over Bradasleep, who's overdosed on eggnog again.

Chapter the Second: A Trip for The Ages[edit]

Dramatis Personae
In order of appearance
The Orphans
- NeedABrain
- Braydie
- Various Unnamed Eaten
Bradaphraser, (various socks)
The Gentlemen
- Squiggle
- Tompkins
The Bard
The Whores
- Modusoperandi
- Procopius
- Todd Lyons
The Gods
- Zeus
- Aphrodite
- Persephone
- Hermes
The Brad

Two Gentlemen of Verona are speeding through the cold, dark streets in their horse-drawn carriage. Both men are deep in discussion, stopping only to urge the driver to hasten his speed.

ENeGMA: I declare, this snow is oppressive — oppressive like the look your mother gave me last Christmas!  (chuckles softly, winks knowingly)
Squiggle: Yeah, yeah, my mother's a whore. (sniffs). Pass me a swig of your finest nog, post-haste.
ENeGMA: Now Squiggle, we both know you're something of a teetotaller, I can't let you get piss drunk — piss drunk like you got last Christmas!  (chuckles softly, winks knowingly)
Squiggle: You know what - I think I've had enough of your oppressiveness. I'm going to drink me some fresh nog of egg, whether it makes my crippled father weep at night or not.

Enter Tompkins, eggnog in hand, Squiggle's mother on shoulder (Tompkins is well-known for his ability to enter speeding horse-drawn carriages).

Tompkins: ... I say Clarence, your bosom seems to get bigger every... Oh, why hello Squiggle, having a good time I see... please excuse me while I refill your mother's drink.
Squiggle: Tompkins! I knew I felt something greasy and full of jelly in the back of the carriage there whilst fetching my nog! How did you walk into a moving carriage, anyhow?
Tompkins: Why I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Squiggle. Now if you'll please excuse me, I really must get going, your mother appears to be sobering-up.
Squiggle: M-mother? In your skimpiest pantalettes? Tompkins, I expected better of you! I mean, such poor taste in women!

The scintillating conversation is interrupted as a half-eaten turkey is hurled through the window, hitting Squiggle's mother in the head.

Squiggle: Alack! A wild fowl of ill intent hath stricken my mother! KILL IT, ENeGMA, KILL IT!!
ENeGMA: Pipe down for a second Squiggle! I hate to break up the family reunion, but it looks we have company! It seems that, while we've all been busy looking up Squiggle's mom, bandits have waylaid our carriage!
Squiggle: Did they take of our nog? Or our food rations? Or the legendary Golden Jewel of the Guinea Baboon?
ENeGMA: No... they took your mother...
Squiggle: NOOOO! This is the worst Christmas since... well... the last time I spent Christmas with my mother. Which was every year. MOTHER!

Chapter the Third: The Meeting[edit]

Back at the orphanage, the children are heading outside to play in the snow, only to narrowly miss a speeding horse-drawn carriage.

Braydie: Watch where you're going you idiot! You could have killed any one of us!

Someone opens the door of the carriage to reveal a half-eaten turkey. It drops to the cold hard floor.

KWild: I guess we have found the missing turkey. Anyway, why is there a carriage here, and what happened to all the IPs? Don't tell me you ate them all.
Jamtrousers (burps): No...
Braydie: The IPs just keep coming and coming, there will be enough for everyone. But, I don't know why there is a carriage here... maybe it stopped en route to somewhere, anyone have any ideas?
KWild: Good. It takes a lot to just fade in again, I'm hungry, hand me some of that IP. And maybe we should ask the people in the carriage why they are here.

KWild knocks on the carriage.

Kwild: Excuse me sirs, but could you please explain the purpose of your visit?

The people within the carriage stare out with a mixture of detached bewilderment and mild disdain. ENeGMA slowly pours more sherry from the decanter into his glass, as Squiggle slowly and silently closes the carriage door. Tompkins is passed out on the floor of the carriage and seems to have urinated himself.

Chapter the Fourth: Enter the Clichés[edit]

NeedABrain: Hmmm... bad news, fellas. I've received a survey telling that if our audience drops more we'll start having success in non-Christian parts of the World, on the opposite meridian. They told us we need more action, so I counselled with the Ghost of Christmas Past and all I got was this lousy box. A box of clichés.
Braydie: A box of clichés?!
Bradaway: A box of Chechens?!!
Sir Brad: A box of michés?!!!
Bradaphraser: A box of what?
Squiggle: Quiche? My favorite!  (slips quietly back to Chapter 2)
NeedABrain: Clichés, dammit! That stuff that were funny in a remote past Christmas but now just sucks. Don't know if the spirit supposes us to feed the IPs with that stuff. Let's just try it, okay?

“I smell eggnog!”

~ Oscar Wilde on popping out of the box

“Christmas sucks!”

~ Oscar Wilde on n00b Wilde quotes on Christmas

Little orphan FoxyBabe comes inside the room, scratching her sleepy eyes, covered in a old blanket, saying with a very curious voice:

FoxyBabe: Is Mr.T in there? I like him so! I want him to sing "Be somebody" to me. It makes me feel special...

Actus Quintus, Scoena Prima[edit]

Enter The Bard.

The Bard: The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie, Teletubbies And now 'tis time that I bid thee goodbye.  (scratches nose. Adjusts junk. Exits)

Correspondent Brad Frasier: Wait, was that me just now?

Baradydie:Oh and there was me thinking it was me.

Chapter the Seventh: A Very Shameless Holiday (where did chapter 6 go?)[edit]

Swirling smoke surrounds the the hearth. There is a knock at the door. DiZ hits the remote.

DiZ: Yes? Please come in.

A mysterious stranger, draped in a black cape, enters the room.

Stranger: I come bearing German chocolate logs.
Insineratehymn: Logs? Logs — oh yes.
Stranger: But first . . . THE WHORES!

Modusoperandi, Procopius and Todd Lyons burst through the door. Procopius wields a cat in his hand that looks both mean and neglected.

Procopius: Oh, look at my poor little cat! So strong, so ignored!
Modusoperandi: Outta my way, bitch! You're Dune tonight!

Decidedly unhot catfight follows between first whore and second whore. Third whore, glammed up and eerily confident, steps in.

Todd Lyons: So this is Christmas. What have you done?

Stranger pulls off mask, revealing Rcmurphy.

Rcmurphy: Wait a sec — was that a Beatles reference?
Todd Lyons: Um . . . yes?
Rcmurphy: Hold on — I'll get my wallet.

Silence falls over garage.

Insineratehymn: So, um — those logs?

Squiggle: Logs? Bah! Nothing near the quality of things you can buy at a good Christmas sale!  (slips quietly back to Chapter 2)

DiZ: Where'd Squiggle go?

KWild: He went back to Chapter 2. Aren't you listening?

There is a creaking sound from the garage door. It lifts up a foot or so, and Codeine ducks underneath. He is covered in snow and carrying a leather briefcase.

Codeine (muttering to himself): Right, chapter seven should be fashionably late enough to enter the story... (louder) Hey guys! What's happening?

A scrabbling noise emanates from inside Codeine's briefcase as a paw is shoved through a crack in the lid.

flyingfeline: Oi! It's bloody freezing in here. Honestly, I bet Billie Piper never had to put up with this. (Notices everyone staring at her). What's going on?

Savethemooses enters.

Savethemooses: I suppose I should be here for this chapter.

Tompkins: Oh, well, this is actually the chapter where everyone involved dies. . . Sooo — yeah.

Tompkins walks over to the far side of the room and removes an M16 with an under-mounted M203 grenade launcher from DiZ's gun cabinet.

Tompkins: Say hello to my little friend!

Bradaloser: Hello, little friend. How are yo-

Tompkins pulls trigger, several hundred explosions are audible and debris is flying everywhere as the entire house shakes on it's foundation

KWild: Perhaps now is the right time to fade away again.

KWild fades away creating more plot holes. Out of the mist, a Squiggle is visible.

Squiggle: How could you kill everyone, Tompkins? I thought we were all buddies!

Cainad opens the basement trapdoor, peering out at the destruction.

Cainad: Sweet Jesus, I missed the good part of this chapter. Then again, I figured this was gonna happen, these holiday tales have such predictable plots. Plus, not being involved in this chapter kept me from being killed, so I shouldn't complain. I'm sorry Squiggle, I think I interrupted you?

Just then, the The Ghost of Christmas Past appears at Tompkins' shoulder.

The Ghost of Christmas Past: Tompkins.....Tooooompkiiiins.......what have you done?

Codeine: Hang on... is everyone OK?

General sounds of disbelief as the occupants of the garage realise that they are unhurt.

Codeine: Lucky for us that Tompkins is actually the world's worst shot... although I think the piano's pretty much had it now. Tsssk.

He walks over to Tompkins and takes the gun off him.

Codeine: Honestly, you Americans and your guns. Now let's put this away before Wolf shows up and does some real damage. And for the love of God, could we please try and develop a plot for ourselves? Preferably one that doesn't involve me getting blood on this suit.

flyingfeline: Erm, well, back in Chapter One we had something about an orphanage, didn't we... and a carriage? And a turkey - actually, forget that part. And actually, forget about the orphans too.  (burps)

Squiggle: Yeah, and someone kidnapped my mother, too.

Tompkins is seen ducking behind a pile of rubble.

Codeine: Great! I mean, not the mother kidnapping per se, but more that these events might be able to be hammered into something resembling a storyline... Feline, hand me a pencil! A new chapter is nigh!

And Codeine used that pencil, he used that pencil well, and the following shi writin masterpiece is what he came up with.

Chapter the Eighth: Nigh[edit]

We are back at the orphanage, but the scene is bleak. The walls are charred, and stubs litter the floor. The wind blows the charred remnants of an NRV tag through the open door. Of the orphans, there is no sign, save one incomplete word hastily scratched beside the fireplace: "BENSO..."

Our heroes enter.

Braydie: We're too late! Oh way to go, Codeine. Nice writing.

Codeine: Um, yeah, it's called "plot", dude. What, we arrive at the orphanage, everything's hunky dory and we leave again? I thought you wanted this stupid story featured?

Squiggle: 'K, but where does my mother fit into all this?

Insineratehymn (indicating the writing by the fireplace): Well, that would appear to be a glaringly obvious clue.. and since Codeine's probably going to fall back on the cliché of having one big Bad Guy as the antagonist in this story, I reckon that if we can track down this "BENSO"-something, we might just find the answers we're looking for.

DiZ: Guys, come take a look at this!

Light shifts to DiZ, who is sitting at an antique mahogany desk with brass handles and one-of-a-kind floral carvings, staring at an extremely out-of place computer with streams of code scrolling down the screen.

DiZ: I think we may have found who this BENSO- guy is, it's-

Suddenly, an arrow shoots across the room from an open window, smiting DiZ in the side of the head. He falls to the floor, dead.

flyingfeline: Jesus Christ!


flyingfeline (gesturing out of window): No, out there!

They rush to the door. A malformed figure wrapped in a dirty grey cloak runs down the street, carrying a crossbow. He darts into an alley.

Codeine: After him!

They dash down the street and into the alley to find Nin, an acolyte of BENSON struggling to reload his crossbow. Tompkins knocks it out of his hand and pins him to the floor.

Cainad: Quick, someone fetch The Comfy Chair! Let's start the interrogating.

Rcmurphy goes to fetch the Comfy Chair. Tompkins begins frisking Nin a little too eagerly.

Squiggle: Who are you? Who sent you? And where's my mother?

Nin: He has her now, precioussss, yes! He has her, and the little oneses too... Big plans for them, the Master has!

Tompkins is still searching Nin's cloak. He reaches into an inside pocket and pulls out a blue EuroiPod.

Squiggle: You fiend!

Rcmurphy (returning with the chair and Mhaille in tow): I got the chair... but Mhaille's in a bad way. He took some kind of knock to the head, and he thinks he's a World War I flying ace.

Mhaille: Tally ho chaps! Ready to give the Bosche a good knocking, what?

Mhaille slaps his thigh vigorously.

KWild: Do you think that the comfy chair will work? I mean it is very comfortable...

Codeine (staring at bystander): Who the hell are you?

Mitch: I'm a bystander. I've been watching the whole time.

Codeine: How long have you been standing there?

Mitch: Like I said, THE WHOLE TIME!

Codeine: Have you been watching?

Mitch: Codeine, what happened to you?

Codeine (slurring speech): Fridge... drink... lay down.

Codeine falls to the floor.

KWild: This is great. First he writes a "masterpiece" and now he decides to collapse. (sighs) Maybe we should help him...

Mitch: He's been drugged!

Tompkins: Well, that's not unusual...

Mitch: No, I mean bad drugs... he seems very disoriented.

Mhaille: Ah, I've often come over a little queer myself. Reminds me of the time Ginger, Algy and I were over enemy lines at the Somme...

As the Uncyclopedians help Codeine into the Comfy Chair, Nin seizes his opportunity and flees. They attempt to give chase, but he turns one corner, then another... and is gone. Dark clouds ominously mass overhead, and snow begins to fall.

Chapter the Ninth: The Gods Lend a Hand[edit]

Interior, The Divine Temple, on the summit of Mount Wikia. In a scene ripped off from redolent of "Jason & the Argonauts", Zeus and Aphrodite are watching the progress of our heroes reflected in a pool of water.

Zeus: Bah! You interrupted my editing for this, Aphrodite?

Aphrodite: Yes, Zeus. Foolish games these mortals may seem to play... but their fate affects the fate of us all. Tonight all Wikis must stand or fall together. Well, apart from Encyclopedia Dramatica, that one fell a long time ago.

Zeus: Well, I don't know if we should help... Have they filed a Request for Arbitration? Do we have a committee set up to deal with this sort of thing?

He trips on the red tape that is littered across the floor of The Divine Temple.

Zeus: Dammit, this stuff gets everywhere!

Aphrodite: Perhaps you're right, Jimb... Zeus. The Uncyclopedians are strong, we know that already. Did they not defeat The Lord of the Crack? And turn back the fabled demon Anonymous Slashy? They are ready for this challenge... but I fear that the minions of BENSON are legion, and the doom of the wiki is nigh.

Zeus: Right, you're on. Fifty quid on BENSON to win, 2-1 after half time.

Aphrodite: You're on.

They walk off laughing, and we realise that this whole scene has been surreptitiously observed by the two demigods, Persephone and Hermes. They look at each other wide-eyed as they emerge from their hiding place behind a statue of Idiocrates.

Persephone: Wow, heavy stuff... We should help them out, y'know.

Hermes: Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Just let me do one thing first.

He picks up a small lightning bolt from the table and hurls it into the pool. There is a small yelp of pain from Spang as it strikes him on the butt.

Hermes: Heh heh heh.

Persephone: Aaaaaanyway... Who is this BENSON that the Lords spoke of?

Hermes: Ooh, you'll like this. A mortal who thinks he's a God. He's some kind of wizard; he appeared one day with fire, brimstone and a big light show - kind of like a Pink Floyd concert but more evil - and many of the weak minded Uncyclopedians fell under his power. He launched a sockpuppet attack against the wiki, and they fought him off... but even as we speak, his followers are massing at the House of Pancakes, building him a temple.

Persephone: So? Let them have their fun.

Hermes: You don't understand! If the temple is completed by Christmas Day, BENSON could actually become a God... He'd have the power to revoke his banishment, and his sockpuppets would swarm across the wiki, infecting everything in their path! Kind of like the end of The Matrix Revolutions.

Persephone: Ahh. I fell asleep by that part.

Hermes: Yeah, I hear that happens a lot.

Persephone: So, this "House of Pancakes" you speak of...

Hermes: It's far outside the Wiki walls. Look...

Hermes waves his hands over the viewing pool, and an image forms within. Like driving past a particularly gruesome auto wreck, or inadvertently switching on an episode of Big Brother, it seizes the viewer's attention and draws them in...

Chapter the Tenth: The Two One Towers[edit]

Fire rages! Rocks crash! Unholy minions toil ceaselessly! In fact, if this story wasn't derivative enough already, one might say it was a bit like the Isengard scene from the second Lord of The Rings movie - but not quite enough to be litigation worthy. Our view is drawn to a ragged gash in the ground, above which hangs a neon sign reading "WELCOME PUNY MONKEY MEN TO THE HOUSE OF PANCAKES (Happy hour Thursdays 6 - 7)". Within the fissure we see the foundations of a mighty temple being laid... by the missing orphans! They are chained together and clothed in rags, but appear otherwise unharmed. Chained to the wall at one end of the temple is Squiggle's mother, berating the guards about the colour clash between the altar cloth and the curtains. A tall, imposing figure wearing black armour enters the building site, and looks around, nodding his approval.

The figure speaks, his voice echoing about the imposing chambers: rise my army of n00bs, rise. together we shall march upon minas tirath the divine temple itself, throwing down those unworthy to sit in benson's presence! for *i* am he, tremble before me!

The dark one's eyes alight upon the struggling figure of Squiggle's mother.

BENSON: how do you like your new home, my pretty?

Squiggle's mother glares at him.

BENSON: it matters not. when the temple is completed, and the reskin falls across the main page, benson's hour will be at hand. muahahahahahaaaa!

Nin bursts in. He drops to his knees before BENSON.

BENSON: ahh, my pet. what news of the pitiful uncyclopedians?

Nin: Lord, we killed the one called DiZ, yesss we did, but they chaseded us, and took the precious EuroiPod! Nassssty uncyclopedians, we hates them!

BENSON: this is most unfortunate, pathetic one. still, such items as euroipods will be of small consequence when benson rules the wiki. benson shall give you a legion of sockpuppets of your own as reward for how you have served him. tell me though; is our spy still with them?

Nin: Yesss master! He drugged the one who calls himself a drug! Hahahaha! And the one with the unpronounceable name... he thinkses he's Biggleses, he does!

BENSON: excellent. he should despatch the rest with ease... and then the reskin will have no-one to stand in its way! muahahahahaha!

The image waves and distorts, dissolving into a pool of dark water. We are back in the Divine Temple.

Persephone: The bastard! We have to do something!

Hermes: Indeed. The uncyclopedians are leaving the city now; perhaps we can give them a little push on their way...

Persephone: Hey hey, Zeus is coming back! Quick, let's get out of here...


Chapter the Eleventh - Dark Side of the Wall[edit]


A number of notable Uncyclopedians stand silently gazing at a lightshow that would make Pink Floyds look like some guy holding a torch up behind a petri dish full of coagulated moose sperm. Lasers light the clouds in shades of purples and blues that seem to defy all logic as fluctuating electromagnetic waves of energy seem to burst into the night sky.

Codeine: Wooooooooow... that is just far out.

Squiggle: I can't believe I'm outside the wiki walls... it's amazing. All my life I wanted to see what was out here. What did you say this place was called again?

Fuhrer King Bradley: The Inter-net, or something. I'm not too sure about it, though. The colours are nice, but there's a hell of a lot of panhandlers roaming about.

Mhaille (staring at a large black monolith): It's... full of porn...

Tompkins leaps up with a strangled scream and sprints off towards the monolith at full speed.

flyingfeline: Someone's gonna sleep well tonight!

Just as Tompkins is about to reach the dark monolith he is clonked on the head by a falling bone. He seems unphased, but stops running and turns.

Tompkins (speaking to the Narrator): It's the internet... you can't feel pain.

Oh, cool.

Tompkins: Yeah...


Tompkins: ...

Mhaille: Ahem.

Oh, right! Uhh... Mhaille picks up the bone and considers its remarkable likeness to a Space Station he once saw.

Squiggle: Guys? Guys? We're meant to be finding my mother and the orphans! We should get going... but all that porn is... just... irresist... (slumps to his knees, drooling at the edifice before him)

flyingfeline tuts.

flyingfeline: Oh well, I guess it's the last resort... now where is that thing...

With a triumphant flourish, flyingfeline drags out from behind a (decidedly un-PG) monolith an enormous carving of the ancient monk Goa Tse.

flyingfeline: (sounding slightly deranged) Hahaa!!

The image has the predictable effect; the Uncyclopedian males avert their gaze. Hindleyite vomits profusely onto his shoes.

Hindleyite: Oh man... I'll never get used to that.

Suddenly, the Whores let out a shriek. They huddle together and point out into the darkness at a mysterious fuzzy shape which appears to be getting closer.

Braydie: What the shit is that?!

The admins ignite their bansticks and move into a defensive formation as the ominous figure looms closer through the internet mist. Tompkins is concentrating hard on not soiling himself again.

Codeine: What the hell? It looks like a christmas tree with legs...

He raises his banstick and swings it at the approaching figure, but checks his swing at the last second, recognizing a face in the depths of the tree branches.

Codeine: MoneySign?

The tree bows (in as much as a fir tree can bow), and we realise that Olipro is perched precariously on the top, dressed as a fairy. His tutu is stained, and he clutches a half empty bottle of tequila.

Olipro: shhhfww... ahh, gwann ye feck...

MoneySign: Uhm, yeah. Hi.

The Uncyclopedians just stand there, open mouthed.

MoneySign (sighs): Long story. The upshot of it is, don't play drinking games for forfeits with a wizard. On the plus side... no, actually there is no plus side to being a human christmas tree wearing Olipro as a hat. Ah crap.

Shandon: Hey Olipro, pass that tequila! That's an ingredient desperately needed in this year's Christmas cake, since you and Winston Churchill already drank all the brandy.

Olipro: Ssshure thing, mate... *hic*. It'sh a weird brand, though, I haven't sheen it beforre...

He tosses the bottle down to Shandon, unavoidably spilling some of it over Moneysign's branches.

MoneySign: Hey, hey, HEY! Mind the fairy lights!

Shandon (reading the label): "Strong Rad Tequila: X marks the spot"? And there's a little picture as well, it's very well done. Looks like a little map and everything...

Todd Lyons (seizing the bottle from Shandon): My God! It's a map alright... and it seems to lead us to the House of Pancakes! This is very strange; nonetheless, I vote For featuring the picture when we get back to Uncyclopedia.

KWild: You are aware that there is some sort of trap there aren't you?

Todd Lyons: I'm throwing caution to the wind.

Todd Lyons throws caution to the wind.

Shandon: AAAAAAAAA! That hurt, you careless asshole...

Todd Lyons: Sorry.

KWild, Todd Lyons and Shandon start to wander off.

The party, except those three: Wait for us! Where are you going?

Todd Lyons: To the next chapter, and beyond...unless the story ends next chapter, or I die next chapter, or some unforeseeable incident occurs where I cannot possibly continue, possibly due to ill-health, or something of that nature...

KWild: Exactly. Now everyone remember, don't pick up any red shirts or Stormtrooper armour and we should all be fine.

Chapter the Twelfth: A Deep-sea Season[edit]

As the band of Uncyclopedians struggles on, a vast tidal wave appears on the horizon, presumably to add some excitement to the temporarily dull plot. From a distance, it sounds like Rupert Bear got on the Weather Clerk's bad side again, but as the wave nears it becomes obvious the "water" is actually billions of social-bookmarking tags.

Alksub: Hurry, or we'll all drown. You can use the submarine in my name!

It suddenly dawns on the party that they've just messed up the continuity of the story.

Shandon: Wait! What about the commented out section?

Omnes (confused): What?

Todd Lyons: He's right!

Todd Lyons points over to a shimmery section in the air, where a small pile of storyline waits to be written into the plot.

Omnes: Oh shit.

Mitch: Now I know how Sikon feels; he huffed the whole thing, then brought it back up. Vanity is a dish best served raw, but this is still in the oven.

Todd Lyons: What?

Mitch: Dunno, I'm quite confused myself. Look over there — one of us who hasn't spoken in a while is going to say something!

Codeine (sighs): I guess that's going to be me then. Look, it's December 23rd, we should really press on to the climax of this story. After all, evil never sleeps (although it has been known to take the odd afternoon nap on a Sunday when there's nothing on the TV).

Braydie: But Codeine, aren't you the main writer now?

flyingfeline: Well, only because the rest of us can't be bothered to get off our arses and get out a pen.

Braydie: (smug) Exactly.

flyingfeline: Well then.

flyingfeline hands Codeine a biro and sits back in satisfaction to watch. Unnoticed, the tidal wave reaches its highest point and topples over, hurling all concerned into the waves.

With a start The Brad leaps forward and points: Look...we're saved. It's the AuthorShip.

The Real Brad: But...I'm Brad.

The remaining Uncyclopedians clamber aboard and make their way to whatever that room where the Captain does stuff is called. They find the ship deserted, like Wigan on a Saturday night.

flyingfeline: This is just spooky. It's like a ghost ship. Look, the "whatever that wheel thing that the Captain steers the ship with is called" is bolted in place. Looks like someone has set the controls for a specific location.

Codeine suddenly remembers the biro in his pocket: Well, I know exactly where we're heading. (Codeine chuckles softly, winks knowingly)

Alksub decides he is not stowed away enough and stows himself even more away.

6 on the attack roll. Two evil elves appear off the starboard bow.

Both NPCs: Prepare to die a naughty death!

Suddenly, a dark figure rises from the distant waves. With many a gasp and bowel movement, the Uncyclopedians are dismayed astonished to find DiZ, hurtling towards the ship in mid-air. He is wearing a rather tattered old cape (which explains the flight) and looks somewhat frazzled.

DiZ: Soft! foul beasts!

More gasps.

DiZ: I have risen from the dead and am here to act as yet another nonsensical plot-twist to this already hopelessly doomed story. A DiZ ex machina, if you will.

DiZ smiles and chuckles at his own joke, obviously not funny.

Braydie: Well you'd better do something, or you'll be little more than a DiZGuffin.

Alksub: (muffled by the concealing shipment of cotton swabs) This ship is making me DiZzy. *cough* Oh, and I'm trapped.

Suddenly, there is an enormous rumbling and creaking from down below.

Codeine: (holding his nose) DiZ, was that you?

But before DiZ has time to answer, the mist clears and the Uncyclopedians find their ship run aground on the ominous shores of their destination. The looming shape of the House of Pancakes is visible on the horizon.

Choose Your Own Adventure: Get yer endings while they're hot![edit]

Do you....

1: Accept BENSON as your personal saviour and vow to speak in capital letters for all eternity?

2: Think that BENSON is the worst thing since Talk:Euroipods?