From: kibo@world.std.com (James "Kibo" Parry)
Subject: Blast From The Past: A VERY SPOT CHRISTMAS (1991)
Reply-To: kibo@world.std.com
Organization: Two rooms filled with typography, in downtown Boston
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 1992 05:23:05 GMT

[]
	Here's last year's Spot Christmas special.  I will write another
one if I can this Christmas.  (Tentative title, "Spot's Second First
Christmas.")  It may even be INTERACTIVE, like this one! Get out your 
favorite six-sided die and prepare for...


                       A VERY SPOT CHRISTMAS

                               -or-

                   WE'VE GONE BEYOND THE KNUCKLE!

                     by Manly Rooney, 12/25/91


                   -Here incipits a Tale of Spot-


Bzzzzzzzzt!  Spot's three alarm clocks simultaneously stunned him out of
bed at 12:01am on Christmas.  He ran down the stairs and began to tear
wrapping paper off presents with his teeth.
     The first thing Spot unwrapped was a Tater Twister, which was an
appliance that could slice potatoes (only potatoes) into spirals (only
spirals) while taking up valuable kitchen-counter real estate.  Spot
chucked the Tater Twister over his shoulder and grabbed another
present.
     It was another Tater Twister.  He tossed it in the general
direction of the first one and unwrapped a third.  "Waaaaaaah!" screamed
Spot, "I asked for all sorts of NEAT STUFF for CHRISTMAS and I was EXTRA
GOOD and I all got were STUPID TATER TWISTERS!"
     Just then, Spot's parents, Spom and Spop, wandered down the stairs
into the living room, to see what the racket was.  Spop saw Spot crying.
"Why, Spot, what's the matter?  I bet you'd like the Tater Twisters a
lot better if you'd just try one of them."
     Spop plugged in Tater Twister #1.  It started up, sucked in Spop's
tail, pulled him in, and shaved him corkscrew fashion.  The Tater
Twister exploded, leaving a bald, scorched Spop lying on the floor
under a halo of little asterisks.  Spot cried even louder!
     "There, there, dear," comforted Spom, "your pop'll be all right in
a while.  Why don't you open your BIG gift?"
     Spot noticed a large box that he'd overlooked, as it was the same
color as the wallpaper.  He ripped it open, and

PLEASE CHOOSE A NUMBER FROM ONE (1) TO SIX (6) AND GO TO THE RELEVANT SPOT.


(1)
     inside was a twelve-foot ball of Silly Putty.  "Wow!  Silly Putty!"
yapped gleeful Spot.  "Just what I wanted!  And lots of it, too!"
     "I'm glad you liked it, Spot," beamed Spom.  "It was all my idea."
     Spot tried to knead the Silly Putty with his paws, but the glob was
just too darn big!  He shoved against the side of it with all his might
and it didn't budge.  Then, calamitously, it rolled over onto him.  With
a soft slurping noise, Spot became embedded in the huge ball.
     Spot spent the next six weeks whimpering as the ball was stretched
in various ways as the paramedics tried to free him.  Eventually, they
gave up, telling Spot's parents that from now on all he would be able to
do would be to pick up pictures from the Sunday funnies.  Yes, Spot was
a Silly Puppy.

THE END


(2)
     inside was a huge serving, steaming warm, of Spot's favorite food,
that delicacy known as lutefisk.  And--joy of joys--there was ALSO an
enormous quantity of Spot's second favorite food, tutti-frutti bubble
gum!  But--horror of horrors--the two had been mixed together!
Christmas was ruined!  Spot cried.

THE END


(3)
     inside was a pair of wax lips.  Spot tried them on.
     "Mmm mmmmm mm MMM mmm mmmmm mm MMMM MMMMMM!" he said.  Spop winked
at Spom as he hid the tube of Krazy Glue(TM).

THE END


(4)
     inside was a pair of tweezers.
     "I thought you'd like some nice tweezers," said Spom, "since you
can't pick small things up with those paws."
     Spot tried to check out the tweezers, but he couldn't pick them up
with his paws.  "Waah!  They're too small!"  He made a mental note to
ask for tweezers again next year, because then he'd have something to
pick up this pair with.

THE END


(5)
     inside was a vacuum Kleenex.  Spot wished he'd never need to blow
his nose... somehow knowing that maybe, just maybe, his wish would come
true....

THE END

NOTE: YOU HAVE SELECTED THE HAPPY ENDING FOR THE STORY.


(6)
     inside was a mosquito on a leash.
     "Oh, boy, my very own pet!  I'll name him Winer," said Spot.
     With Spom's help, the end of Winer's leash was soon hooked onto
Spot's collar.  Spot went out to take his new pet for a walk.
     At first it was fun, with Winer humming along behind (and above)
him.  However, soon Spot found out the hard way that pet mosquitoes need
to be fed every five minutes.  Soon, he was covered with itchy red
marks.  Spot stifled a sob.  It was a nuisance, but he'd always love
Winer.  Winer was his pet and his pal.  The mere thought of their
eternal friendship made Spot's tail wag happily.
     Unfortunately, the tail mashed Winer.  His corpse resembled a
punctuation mark of indeterminate variety.  Oh, how poor Spot cried! He
tried to unhook the late Winer's leash from his collar, but with his
puppy paws, he couldn't undo the spring clasp.  For the rest of the day,
he ran around sobbing, dragging dead Winer behind all the while.
     Eventually, a friendly undertaker buried Winer for Spot.  Spot
stood by his friend's grave all night.  He had to, since the leash on
his collar ran down into the packed earth.

THE END



                                                     (C) James "Kibo" Parry.
Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology