The Fifth Book of Ooga – 10/4/99

The Fifth Book of Ooga

And lo, in the waning seconds, unto the fourth quarter, unto the fourth week, the pigskin spiraled toward the evil clutches of the cajun infidel, toward desolation, and the People of the Dawg did briefly befoul themselves; when behold, a great hand came from the sky, a holy hand, a blue-chip hand, as if from the foul fields of Florida, yea even Witherspoon the Wizardly, he who was snatched forth from the hoary bosoms of Spurrier the Spurious and Bowden the Babbler; and yo, git down now, the hand of the Spoonian One did slap it to earth; and there was singing and rejoicing and beer-guzzling in the land. And lo, parenthetically, some there were who did weep and wail and bitch and moan about the point-spread, and Ooga the Hermit didst stalk and pursue them during the week, even in their work cubicles, and fall upon them during their coffee breaks, and wreak all manner of face-slapping and nose-wrenching and eye-gouging and wedgie-yanking upon their worthless hides; and lo, they were told to consider it a warning.

And the Big Dawg turned his gaze to the north. And . . . and . . .

[Saxon’s note: At this point the prophet becomes briefly unintelligible. It is not a good thing to be in his presence when Volunteers are spoken of. Ooga begins to violently tremble all over. His eyes roll back, his tongue protrudes and he begins to foam at the mouth. His right leg begins to shake spasmodically, as it does when he is scratched in just the right part of his belly. He begins to woof in unknown tongues. Alas, no translation is available. But in time, certain words can be recognized, as follows.]

Trailer Park Apocalypse! Shanty Armageddon! The Sacrament of Holy Butt-Kicking! The People of the Dawg shall march through the wilderness, even I-75, unto the Land of Great Stench, even Tennessee, and the Dawgnation shall stand silently before the Weasely Walls of Neyland. And lo, the Band of Red-Coated Ones shall lead them on foot, playing their drum cadences; and then shall come the RVs, and behind them shall come the Sport and Utility Vehicles, and behind them the sedans and compacts; and all the People of the Dawg shall march seven times around the Weasely Walls of Neyland, and then they shall halt and tailgate forth. And then shall come the featured twirler, and lo, even the scantily-clad flag-wenches; and the trumpeters of the Red-Coated Ones shall blow forth seven notes, and a great roar shall go up from the Dawgnation, and the Red Sea shall wash over the arrogant, impious and fashion-challenged people of the northern hill country.

And the Big Dawg shall eat. And this shall signify that the hour of the Vols, nay, more verily their Five Minutes, are up. For the Great Wall of Stroud shall descend upon them. And lo, the Seven Studly Linebackers shall hover about them and get medieval upon their hindquarters. And surely Sanks the Savage shall feed them the dust of his Nikes, and lo, Quincy the Quickfoot, is he not well pleased by the Cascading Cameras of ESPN?

And the streets of Knoxville shall run red with the blood of the teeming Vol minions. And the herd of the lower genetic pool, yea it shall be thinned.

And Donnan the Dominator shall come forth to accept terms of surrender from the orangUTan himself, yea even Fulmer the Full-Bodied, and they shall reason together on the topic of “running up.” And Donnan shall “run up” to Fulmer, and he shall “run up” his hand even into the cavernous chest cavity of the Flabby One, where he shall clutch in his fist the foul heart of Fulmer, and pull it forth, spilling the entrails of dethroned one, and yea, Donnan the Devourer shall indeed hold it to his lips and . . .

[this portion edited for family audiences by Saxondawg]

Behold, the planets shall once again align themselves, and the lion shall lie down with the lamb, and peace shall reign, and gas shall go for a quarter of a gallon again, and a good nickel cup of coffee shall be imbibed by all, and the people shall sing Show Tunes, and lo, Joe Hamilton shall suddenly remember he is a little-recruited runt of only average ability.

And the People of the Dawg shall bark and give high-fives forever.

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