And so, Mooky strapped on his harmonica, grabbed his bucket of cold fried chicken (for luck), and drove his lawnmower—a converted 1972 John Deere with rocket boosters made from old propane tanks—straight toward the Piggly Wiggly. The townsfolk gathered, thinking it was the annual Mulberry Opossum Festival. No one corrected them.
Mooky finally put down the harmonica. “I broke it? Lady, I haven’t even had my morning grits.”
Prittle sighed. “Fine. But hurry. The Dollys are starting to harmonize, and when they do, the whole multiverse might just break into song and never stop.” francis mooky duke williams
Francis Mooky Duke Williams—known to most as “Mooky,” to his mother as Francis, and to the IRS as a delightful headache—was a man who believed that any problem could be solved with a bucket of fried chicken, a harmonica in the key of C, and a complete disregard for the laws of physics.
The Memetic Auditor explained the stakes: unless Mooky could perform the “Reverse Shriek of Temporal Rectification” from the roof of the Piggly Wiggly during the next solar flare, reality would fold into a pretzel. Worse, that pretzel would be owned by a sentient hedge fund from Dimension 404, which planned to sell it back to humanity in installments. And so, Mooky strapped on his harmonica, grabbed
“Depends,” Mooky said, not looking up. “Are you here about the harmonica solo or the unpaid parking tickets in Daytona?”
Mooky scratched his chin. “Huh. And here I thought my sinuses were just acting up.” Mooky finally put down the harmonica
“Does that come with dental?” Mooky asked.