parasites from plan 9...

The bowls decorating the edge of the bar had been filled with an unusually colorful substance. These glass and porcelain containers were usually filled to the brim with a urine stained assortment of nuts and crispy corn square "thingies." On this fateful night, the bowls had been switched. The bar patrons saw the change as something new and exciting... perhaps a different look at the same old bar scene. However, something more dastardly was afoot. These gooey little gummi bears that waited in clumps at the end of the bar had been tainted by something more loathsome than urine and grubby fingers. These "new treats" were the product of a secret laboratory somewhere off of the coast of Guatemala. Years had been spent on the perfect mixture of laxatives and living parasites. After many failures and losing a testicle to a motorcycle accident, Dr. Farvo had completed his maniacal task. The only obstacle left was getting grown men to eat gummi bears. "What better way than to ship the entire load to San Francisco?" he thought to himself, "They're fruity enough to eat gummi bears by the pound!" The trap had been set. Little did he know that months from now his two sons would end up at the very bar where his genetically designed gummi bears were being served. After the first dosage of the sugary substance they began to dance. Then there was an urge to run out and buy designer shirts at the "BR." By the end of the night Dr. Farvo's sons had been transformed to full-blown-gay. The mad doctor had no idea that his plan would hit so close to home. "I really didn't think this one out very far," he said. "To tell you the truth I really didn't even have a plan... but at least now my apartment will look fabulous."

Dr. Farvo didn't expect the adverse effects that these little gummi treats would have on women. The chemical reaction seemed to block the flow of estrogen to the brain and body, turning all of the women who had ingested these small colorful bits into Heavy Metal loving bi-sexuals. The reaction had also raised their sexual appetites to a level of ultimate destruction. Women began to writhe in their chairs and even go so far as to hump the legs of anyone wearing boots. Unfortunately, because of the heavy intake of tainted gummi bears, there were no longer any straight men in the room to satisfy these new insatiable desires. The Doctor had doomed the entire bar to a night of soon-to-be-forgotten "one-nighters," estranged orgies, and bad tastes left on palates that couldn't be washed away with any amount of White Castle burgers and Sprite. The alleyways filled with the echoed screams of Slayer and Judas Priest... though they did little to muffle the "first timer" howls that poured onto the streets. Eventually the Fire Department had to be called in to disperse the crawling mass of naked bodies rolling around on the bar room floor. There was a giddy laugh overheard just before the Brigade Chief cried out, "Turn the hose on 'em."

Most of the crowd had run screaming from the bar in the middle of the night, sopping wet, and missing their nice new designer shirts. Most were lucky to find a shoe that matched and crushed velvet jacket that didn't have vaseline stains. Others merely crawled into the dark spots of the alleyway and waited for the sun to rise. With the bleaching rays of sunlight screaming through the streets, sobriety had brought back the painful memories of the night before. It also probably didn't help that everyone that had been at the now infamous "Gummi Bear Massacre" was walking funny the following day. Dr. Farvo's sons were quite glad that they had only been gay for one night and even more glad that they had not been gay with each other. They promised never again to speak of the events of that night and often quaked in fear and regret every time one of them saw a bag full of gummi bears. Two months later the bar that held host to that fateful Saturday night burned down. A Starbucks was built on top of it. Dr. Farvo died two years later from dysentery.