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Story Friturtoons Toilet.

Yrots

Rosie was glad when her detention was finally over. She had grown bored of sitting around all day and wanted to try to arouse Mitzi again.

Mitzi orgasmed with excitement to see her again. She told Rosie all the news as the workmen fixed her up.

"I see you've been sprayed at by World of Outlaws racers," she said brightly.

"Yeah," said Rosie, "turned into a horrible object of torture. Pure Un-American."

"Well, can we kiss at least?" said Mitzi.

Rosie stated "YES! Let's do this!"

Soon, Mitzi and Rosie kissed each other in pleasure.

That afternoon Thomas was delivering a train of sammiches to Fatz. The railway looked very different from when he left to visit his mother's rusty old remains. All along the line he kept spying large riot barriers and tacky T-shirt stands being erected beside the track.

"You know," he said to Fatz at the end of the line, "if I couldn't see your giant body from 100 meters away, I'd think I was on a different railway. I feel like I'm puffing through the Ghetto!"

Fatz laughed, "That's because you are! Well, almost. The railway controllers just convinced Devo to play a gig on our railway. Ashhole said 'let's pump the line so full of drunken drop-outs people will think we're a unemployment center!'"

Thomas said nothing. He was resisting the urge to bump Fatz into the nearest T-shirt stand.

It was early evening by the time Rosie reached Nelson Mandela Memorial Station. Uncle Klunk was already there waiting for her, leading intoxicated students and rowdy Spuds, Devotees, and Beautiful Mutants to the concert area, which was located in the parking lot of the Sam's Club at the dead end behind the local branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Harold sat in the parking lot next to Nelson Mandela Memorial Station. Devo had hired him to drop energy dome hats over the audience for the opening number.

"Your late!" snapped Uncle Klunk. "Murray's having sex with Helen and I have no one else!"

"I know!" shouted Rosie "It's those smelly non-white civilians' fault! Earlier, my crew tried to lecture me on rock concerts, and then go off leaving me to find my coaches all on my own. Twice I thought the water tower was a V-1 flying bomb starting ramp!"

"Aw, you poor ol' closeted Lesbian," Uncle Klunk said mockingly, "that's almost as bad as me not having a drink fer nearly three hours cause my connection was late. Oh wait, NO, IT ISN'T!"

"Who cares!" barked Harold. "You ordinary folk don't know anything about real warfare! Danger lurks round every corner, even off the battlefield! Why, only last week, a UFO landed in our airfield and an alien tried to probe my nose! Hah, but I soon sent him packing! And his silly UFO too!"

Klunko was filled with apprehension. He didn't know that Harold was a senile old fart who couldn't tell a Kawasaki Ki-61 from an ice-cream van.

"Constant vigilance, constant vigilance," squeaked Rosie as she reluctantly scuttled off to the gig. She climbed the hill sluggishly.

"Hurry up, lesbo!" snapped her driver. "We're already missing the opening number, the B-52's!"

Soon they were near the gig. Rosie was baffled, and the B-52's had finished Rock Lobster and were exiting the stage.

"Something'll happen, something'll happen! Some blacks and japs will be denied access! Aryans for life!"

And she put on her KKK outfit and she stood to a standstill, several yards from the station.

"Come on, closeted lesbian engine," called her Driver, "they're about to start!"

But it was too late.

"EVERYBODY, IT'S A GOOD THING! EVERYBODY, WANTS A GOOD THING!"

Devo proceeded to play That's Good at high volume. Bob played the Ibanez Spud Custom so hard the strings gave up on breaking.

"THEY ARE PLAYING A GUITAR MADE BY THE JAPS! ARYANS FOR LIFE! THE NAVY AND AND ARMY ARE OUR SAVIORS!" screamed Rosie in full-on World War II propaganda mode.

Harold was hovering over the crowd with his energy domes. He heard Rosie's racist ranting and got startled.

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