(Slam Dunk, Basketball)
“Oh yeah! Big Dunk from B.J Besley!” The commentator was excited.
Besley, a tall african american male, made a circular motion with his index and middle finger.
“Besley! Stirring the pot!”
“Cooking up some pasta!” The commentators maintained their excitement.
Besley made some motions with his hands as if to open up an imaginary can …
“Oh My Noodle! Besley is opening a can of sauce!”
“Right you are Jim! Could be Marinara! He is adding the sauce into the noodles!”
“And he is stirring it up!”
“Showing some good respect to the church.”
B.J Besley reaches into his jersey and pulls out his chain, then he kisses it. On the end of the chain is a small, golden Noodle Monster.
“He’s a religious man alright! Without a doubt Besley is an individual who has indeed been touched by His Noodle.”
“So talented. The power of carbs definitely flows through his veins!”
“R’amen Jim. R’amen.”
John Every was watching the basketball game on his home television. He shook his head.
— End of Entry #3, Noodle World, DJ Robo Biscuit
Pastafarians celebrate every Friday as a Holy Day.
John enjoyed his Thursday. The day was pleasant. John had some delicious Hibachi shrimp at lunch time and he devoured a succulent lamb kebab at dinner. Thursday was not a perfect day. While eating his Hibachi Shrimp at Speedy Japan (the quick japanese food in the strip mall) he was uncomfortable with the wall decor. There was a poster on the wall of a stout Asian man fishing in a small river with bamboo surrounding him (which John expected from a Japanese restaurant). However, next to the eastern influenced poster, there was a representation of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. The Pasta Deity had one of his noodles around a samurai sword and at the bottom of the poster it read “HE is with Japan.”
John thought to himself, “This seems offensive to me. Shouldn’t the people of Japan have some kind of native beliefs?”
After a night of sleeping the day had become Friday. Many people were wearing their colanders. John usually did not wear a pasta strainer on his head. He personally thought it was “a little odd.”
He was having a hard time deciding on his Friday Lunch. As John drove down the road he thought, “Maybe a chicken sandwich.” He happened to be driving on BlackBeard Road which John remembered had a Chicken Phils. He became excited as he got closer, imagining the delicious taste of that savory chicken sandwich in his mouth (maybe even with a Phd Pepper [a sweet soft drink]).
As his car came upon the Chicken Restaurant, his heart dropped upon seeing the store lights were not on. “Damn! It’s Friday. Why would a fast casual restaurant see a need to close every Friday?! Don’t they know I want to eat their chicken?!” John was not happy.
As he drove to BeauJanes (another chicken restaurant) John thought questioning thoughts over the influence that religion should have over business … …
End of Entry Number 2, Noodle World, DJ Robo Biscuit.
(The First Entry, Noodle World)
The young couple entered the place of worship. They saw high ceilings and wooden pews. There were old people walking around slowly. As John Every looked up at the glass paned windows his brow crumpled slightly. On the glass panes was a beautiful design which had dated back for centuries: The Flying Spaghetti Monster. There it was in all of its magnificence. The Noodles. The Meatballs. The Eyes.
The elderly entered the ancient wooden doors. There was a tiny bowl of marinara sauce next to the door. The old women reached down two fingers, dipped them into the marinara sauce, and began her homage. She made it look as her two fingers were stirring a pot of spaghetti and then placed the marinara sauce into her mouth. She then looked up to the Carbohydrate Monster on the window: “R’amen,” she spoke in a soft voice.
John Every and his girlfriend walked through the old cathedral. They walked over to a piece of art that the elderly were crowding around. There was an art structure on display. There were pirate statues. There were Sun-beings. There were normal folk. All of whom, were being touched, by His Noodle Appendage. The elderly looked upon the tribute with respect.
The young couple walked into the cemetery next to the cathedral. Each grave plot had a Death-rock with a small design of The Flying Spaghetti Monster on it. Usually the Death-rocks had words on them. “She was a kind woman.” “This man lived a life.” “This man and his mistresses met a swift death.” “She was TRULY touched by His Noodle.” There was a grieving family placing a small bowl of plain pasta next to one of the Death-rocks.
“Touching,” said Virginia-Mary (John Every’s girlfriend).
“You know, sometimes I get the feeling that things shouldn’t be this way. Shouldn’t there be a nicer way of saying it than ‘Death-rock?’ And shouldn’t there be a higher moral to live up to than this pasta monster?” John whispered to Virginia-Mary.
“Don’t be so offensive John. This is a cemetery.” Virginia-Mary chided John.
— End of Entry One, DJ RoboBiscuit