For many of us, out of sight is out of mind, and those things which do not daily impress upon us their nearness are oft quickly consigned to the great heap o’ crap we don’t remember any more.  And when it comes hammerpants. Martin Van Buren, and sitcoms involving the late Tony Danza, this is perhaps a merciful thing.  Some things however, it is not seemly to forget so quickly, for they go silent not because they slumber, but merely because they seethe and scheme beneath our very feet, like Gary Coleman, or International Communism.  Almost as bad as the former though, and certainly worse than the latter, is the menace which yet lurks beneath the streets of our fair city.  Yes, Richmond, which has been called Emerald City of the James (by me anyways) is, I fear blithely ignoring a terrible evil which draws ever nearer than most of us suspect.  But first, a little history:

            It was late last year (on election night, actually) that the first of a terrible series of subterranean explosions rocked Northern Richmond.  Houses shook, knickknacks fell from china cabinets, old people fell, and could not get up.  Chaos ensued, as the powers that be (now the powers that was) sought to find an explanation for the continuing episodic reverberations (The Episodic Reverberations, might I add, would make a totally sweet name for a band).  Some blamed it on the ghost of J.E.B. Stuart, who walks Hollywood Cemetery and orders the occasional pizza, others blamed the City Council for neglecting the pieties of our ancestors and incurring the wrath of the elder gods (General Robert E. Lee and Frankenberry), yet others simply blamed it on the hordes of  white people who infest the suburbs of Richmond.  In the end though, the police arrested a couple of kids who had been putting dry ice in soda bottles and casting them upon the sidewalk (it being an undisputed fact that a soda bottle of dry ice call certainly cause a massive explosion shaking things for miles around) and declared the matter closed.

            Or so they thought.  For some weeks later, the rumblings again resumed at intervals, once more puzzling the best minds of Richmond.  I however, delved into my innumerable tomes of eldritch lore, and discovered that this phenomenon was not altogether unprecedented.  Indeed, in the town of Moodus, Vermont, similar rumblings had plagued the countryside since long before the arrival of the Pilgrims and their silly, unnecessarily bebuckled hats.  It was not until the 1800’s that a man of science who claimed to be from England came and unearthed in the hills nearby, amidst the most thunderous quaking ever to there transpire, an enormous red pearl of fire, which was the source of power to the devils who dwelt beneath the Moodus mountains (This really all happened, actually).  With his prize in hand, this mysterious stranger set sail for England, but his ship was sunk by a rogue storm en route, and save for the occasional seismic peep, Moodus has be silent ever since.

            With this knowledge in hand, as well as my storied mastery of the lore of the endless catacombs of Richmond (as well as the forgotten and myriad mines of Midlothian), I have deduced that in fact, the recent Richmond rumblings are the fault of none other than Spanky, Lord of the Mole People (don’t laugh at his name, he’s sensitive).  Long has Lord Spanky made his abode beneath the city, causing little trouble to us surface dwellers ever since the time back in the 80’s when, by their powers combined, Dick Cheney and Doug Wilder overthrew his last great scheme (none know all the details, but I have it from a reliable source that it involved Tony Danza and the global cheese supply (Tony Danza and the Global Cheese Supply would be a totally sweet name for a band, you know)).  Since then, Lord Spanky has limited is evil to making a lot of potholes in the Boulevard, and financing a controlling share of the Stony Point Fashion Park, but on election night, when his two most ancient nemesis were elected once more, his wrath waxed strong, and he sought to wreak destruction again upon all those who love the light of day.  Now though, he bides his time, amassing a giganimous army of mole people, robots, trolls, and, uh, The Jeffersons, awaiting his time to strike at the good yet unsuspecting people of Richmond.  Doug Wilder and Dick Cheney are both far too busy at the moment to combat this threat though, so the task falls to us!

            Here are a few ways that you can turn the tide against the armies of Spanky, Lord of the Mole People:  First, stomp around a lot, get some big ol’ pumpkin boots too, it’ll only make it work better.  Also, get a big pointy metal thing, and randomly jab it into the ground wherever you go (if you actually get one of them, you’ll hear a gurgling scream or anguish and rage).  Every time you pass a storm drain, stop and yell down it, “Curse you Spanky!  Victory shall be mine!”  Finally, get a Doug Wilder mask and one of those little helmets with alight on it, then hang out in the sewers a lot.  Yeah, people might look at you funny while you’re doing it, but hey, they do the same to Batman, and you’re no less important than him when it comes to saving Richmond.