I walked across the page in a fog of dense, confusing prose. Run-on sentences and trite metaphors pounded my face like a luke-warm spoon. I picked my way through the rocks of twisted and spurious logic, looking for one that was strong enough to support an argument. More awkwardly-structured sentences were only a paragraph break away.
I was alone, as I always had been. Maybe if I didn't kill everybody I met -- but, no. Mustn't blame myself. The gun is my friend. The only friend I need.
I came across a dark form, a stranger rendered faceless by the author's lack of skill in characterization. "Hello," he said. "Who are you?"
"I am Jake Nonsequitur, the illogical serial killer. Are you the Easter Bunny? Have you brought me candy?"
"Alas, no. I am the First Straw Man, and I must tell you that there is no Easter Bunny."
"No Easter Bunny? If there's no Easter Bunny, then no one will bring me candy. And if I can't have candy, the only rational thing is to become a diabetic." And so I shot him.
"Wait, why did you shoot me?" he asked, as bits of straw floated through the air.
"I told you I was a serial killer."
"You're right. It was foolish of me to keep talking to you like that. But here," he reached into his pocket and handed me a small bottle. "If you're diabetic now, you'll need this insulin."
Then an alligator ate him. I forget what the alligators represent, but I'm sure they're important.
I walked on, and soon met another stranger, no more interesting than the first. "I am the Second Straw Man," he said.
"And I am Jake Nonsequitur, the illogical diabetic serial killer."
"That's nice. Oh, did you know there's no such thing as Santa Claus?"
"No such thing as Santa Claus? But then I won't get any Christmas presents. And if I can't have any Christmas presents, the only rational thing is to become Jewish." And so I shot him, too.
"Wait, before I'm eaten by alligators, you'll need this." As he died, he handed me a dreidl. Then he was eaten by alligators.
I walked on, and -- what are the odds? -- I met another mysterious, undescribed stranger. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," he began.
"Wrong story", I whispered.
"Oh, sorry. I am the Third Straw Man."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Jake Nonsequitur, the illogical diabetic Jewish serial killer."
"If I tell you something, will you promise not to kill me?"
"Okay."
"Cool. Polygraph machines don't really show if you're lying or not."
"Really? But if lie detectors don't work, the only rational thing is to become a pathological liar." So I shot him.
"No fair! You became a pathological liar *after* you promised not to shoot me."
"Yeah, but I was already a serial killer and I'm kind of on a roll right now." And then an alligator ate him.
As I walked on, I thought that maybe instead of being eaten by alligators, the straw men should be carried away by flying monkeys, but I was too lazy to go back and change it. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts of alligators and flying monkeys that I almost bumped into the next mysterious stranger.
"Oops," I said. "Sorry. I'm Jake Nonsequitur, the illogical diabetic Jewish pathological liar and serial killer. You must be the Fourth Straw Man."
"I am."
"What can you tell me that will make me want to kill you?"
"Anything at all, apparently."
"Come on, be a sport. Tell me something doesn't exist."
"Okay, ... um, there's no such thing as leprechauns."
"But if there are no leprechauns, then there's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. And if there's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, that means rainbows are a lie. Since rainbows are a lie, the only rational thing is to become a homophobe." So I called him a queer and then I shot him.
Alligators or flying monkeys or something took the body away and I walked on until I met my next victim. You guessed it, another mysterious stranger.
"I am Jake Nonsequitur, the illogical homophobic diabetic Jewish pathological liar and serial killer. Are you the Fifth Straw Man?"
"I am."
"And are you going to tell me that something doesn't exist?"
"I am."
"Well, get with it. This is a message board post, not a Stephen King novel."
"Very well. There's no such thing as Bigfoot."
I was stumped. "Bigfoot ... Bigfoot. If Bigfoot doesn't exist, then ... um. Then the Six Million Dollar Man -- no, that's no good."
The Fifth Straw Man smirked at me. "Well? What's the 'only rational thing' to do if there's no Bigfoot?"
"Give me a minute here. It's not easy being an illogical homophobic diabetic Jewish pathological liar and serial killer, having to constantly redefine your lifestyle and personality every time you learn something doesn't exist."
"Can I go, then?"
"No. I think I still get to kill you." And so I shot him. But as I picked him up to throw him in the river, I noticed something odd. There were five bullet holes in his straw body. I'd been killing the same straw man, over and over, all night long!
I did the only rational thing. I quit being an illogical homophobic diabetic Jewish pathological liar and serial killer, and became a Presbyterian dentist with an allergy to string beans.