With renewed determination and unobstructed vision Cobbler flew off towards the now mostly destroyed city in the hopes of stopping its inevitable destruction. Despite the many setbacks Cobbler had experienced he finally managed to arrive at the city, which he found to be a rather nice place for a giant radioactive fly. The streets were covered in piles of rubble and other debris resulting in all sorts of interesting looking lumps and intriguing new smells. Cobbler was unsure why the angry fly mob was determined to destroy this rather nice place but he was set upon stopping them. In order to stop the angry mob Cobbler worked on constructing an elaborate trap, when the mob came to destroy this pile of rubble he would unleash a large bag of garbage which would most certainly be so intriguing that it would cause the flies to forget their previous mission of terror and go play in it.
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A few hour laters found Joe sitting down sound asleep. Much to his great fortune the laters, being of the hour variety, were content to just draw some silly mustaches on him and rotate his shoe laces. Had they been laters of a more aggressive type Joe may have awoken to find his shoes on fire and his teeth rotated. When Joe finally awoke he felt a little light headed from all the market fumes but otherwise well rested. He still was stymied on what he could do to alleviate his current quandary of impending enslavement of devastation of the world. He was at an impasse, he must enter the store and retrieve the only object in existence that would render the tsetse fly threat but he also must not enter the store for that establishment would result in a fate far worse than death. Joe needed to contrive a methodology for acquiring the fly swatter while alleviating the imminent threat of perpetual enslavement. Sadly Joe was using all his consciousness not affected by the marker fumes to come up with all these polysyllabic words and thus was forced to relegate planning to his the part of his mind currently impaired with fumes of dubious origins.
As Joe began to ponder his options a plethora of ideas flowed into his head. Most of them once transferred from the fume ailed sections of his mind to ones with a firmer grasp on reality were found to be so bizarre and incomprehensible that they made so little sense that Joe could not even figure out what parts of them didn’t make sense. The few ideas that did come through seemed dubious in origin as they all involved sending money to the marker manufacturer and telling all his friends to do the same. Realizing that this current endeavor was yielding little productivity Joe determined that he must concede his properly functioning brain to the development of a plan and not use it to generate an obscure and pretentious vocabulary.
As Joe thought with his properly functioning brain an idea suddenly struck him like something a box of Fumes-a-lot Brand Markers!®™©! (his simile center has also been relegated to the marker fume affected areas). All Joe had to do was rush into the store and explain to the salesman in an eloquent manor that he was on a quest of extreme importance and that acquisition of the fly swatter of ultimate power was paramount to the success of his endeavor and nay the entire safety of the world. Sadly his planning part of the brain was using words that his fume ailed comprehension section could not understand, thus under the assumption that “eloquent manor” meant plugging his ears and what he was supposed to explain was to yell “Lalelilolu ha ha!” and “acquisition” meant grabbing and running. And thus with some semblance of a plan devised Joe breathed a sigh of relief (finally exhaling the last of the fumes) and set forth on his ill-interpreted plan to save the world.