On the evening of March 31st, be ready for it. Enter any grungy diner and order an iced tea with no ice, no tea, and no glass. Your server will give you a tired look and tread solemnly to the kitchen with your order. If you are brought a small blob of throbbing green putty, then don't even try to run and scream, because most of the food there looks like that. If, however, you are brought a small silver box, put it furtively in your pocket. DO NOT OPEN THE BOX. Stand up and hold your left heel in your right hand, whistle the Humoresque, and hop out the door as inconspicuously as possible.
As you fall down the steps of the diner, an old woman will attempt to stick her tongue in your ear. DO NOT GIGGLE OR YOU ARE LOST. Pull the box from your pocket, rub your finger on your nose, and polish the lid. Ask her if she has ever flashed her breasts at Roger Daltrey while he was singing "Pinball Wizard." She will shriek one and a half times, seize the box, and vanish in a puff of dryer lint. On the ground will be a rabid chipmunk-squid hybrid, wooing a gerbil molded from old chewing gum. SWALLOW THEM BOTH! From then on, you will hold powers of death and destruction, life and resurrection, over any small furry animal that eats bugs and seeds. If you have done all this correctly, you will have completed the first step in your journey to reach... THE FOONSHUCKER. There are seventy-three (or maybe a lot more) steps to go...
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