It has been said that the road begins at the end of the rainbow, or the bottom of the sea, or even on the foothold of some great mountain. But I believe all of this to be hairbrained malarchy. The beginning of this great road is really in the foothills of the Pyranees. I believe this is because it is in the proximity of many varieties of cheese and also a plethora of fine wines. The inception of this great trail, however, is not visible to the naked eye. Not even to the semi-clad eye is it able to be seen.
The secret to escrying this much sought after road is by chanting the secret mantra of un-holiness. You can make this up as you go along, but it must include the words "fuck" and "shit" and some sexual organ in it's politically incorrect termanology. Then, when the entrance is visible to you, you must throw a smoothed stone at it. Then, the great dragon will appear and stomp the ground thrice. Then, and ONLY then, must you enter. And remember, the dragon must stomp THRICE, not once, not twice, not four times, not three and a half, but THRICE. For those of you who are mentally challenged, that means THREE TIMES.
After entering, you must then get on your hands and knees and crawl towards the light. Traversing the road is almost as difficult as finding it. There are many perils that await you inside and it is up to you to figure out how to make it through unscathed. Well, I can help you, too.
Just make sure you don't step on anything with the head of a pig on it - and if you do, DUCK really fast. You might wanna bring some band-aids and gauze . . . and also, don't speak too loudly, or else the Spigglemonkeys will hear you and throw rotten poisoned bananas at you , rendering you helpless and unable to speak. Next thing to know is that you will reach the end when you hear the theme from Star Wars being played by string instruments. Make sure when you reach the intersection you take a left. You will be tempted to take a right because you'll hear the clanging of eating utensils but BE NOT FOOLED young bretheren, this is actually SPORKville and thus an entirely different entity altogether. Once you take the left, prepare to be dazzled by millions and millions of spoons . . . spoons made out of silver, out of gold, out of plutonium, einsteinium, and neon . . . spoons that dance, that sing, that walk with a limp, that speak German, that have schizophrenia, and even spoons that do impersonations of lesser silverware! What more could one possibly ask for??? Not even winning the lottery could equal the joy that you'll feel upon entering the fabled Spoonville! And don't forget to eat a ham sandwich while you're there . . . there to DIE for.
Also, while you're there, you'll want to visit the Spoonmaster. He'll tell you many stories about spoons past . . . great spoons to look up to, foolish spoons to learn from, even spoons that dabbled in the arts of magic and wizardry . . . if you're really lucky, he'll even teach you how to make your very own SPOON COMPANION! Now, where else can you do THAT?!?
Now that's just one theory. There are many others, but I tend to stick with this one. I mean, think about it . . . spoons would probably hang out near cheese where they wouldn't be utilized - I mean, how many people eat cheese with a spoon? Plus, nobody drinks wine from a spoon. So these utensils would be left alone to do as they please without being used to spoon anything. Another thing is . . . it makes sense the they'd be located near Spigglemonkeys, because they don't need to use spoons, either, as their main life staple is bananas and other phallicly-shaped fruit. And lastly, it would also be perfect logic for their neighbors to be sporks, another eating instrument. So you see, this theory is clearly the most practical.
What's that, you say? You want to hear the other theories? Well, um, okay . . . as soon as I think of them I'll fill you in. For now, sit in your computer chair and shut up . . . or click this image right here . . .
