Gather round ol' Syrius, sweet little children. Gather round and let me tell you a story, a very famous and scary story, about the elders of the strange and faraway forest of Elljayidyll...
...Now, you there, how old are you? Only three, you say? Well, you'd better gather extra special close to ol' Syrius. Wouldn't want you to miss any of the action.
We all seated comfortably, children? Good! Let's begin our story of this strange and faraway place.
It was a dark, dark night in the forest. Not a star could be seen in the sky for all the trees. And as happened most every Friday night, in a clearing in this dark, dark forest, spydielives was bent over a log, naked as a jaybird, oiled up all over, allowing herself to be thoroughly "exorcised" with a very special kind of magic wand. "He must... unh... he must be stopped. This cannot continue."
spydielives' breasts shimmied ever-so-rhythmically and oh-so-hypnotically as kathrynrose, wearing the Hard Pink Wand of Reckoning about her waist, plunged the wand into Spydie's haunted cavity over and over, in and out, deeper and deeper, the better with which to work its special blend of dishwasher-safe latex magic.
"Yes, spydielives," said kathyrnrose, sweat profusely pouring from her brow, wearing nothing but a strangely somber smile, her own excitement inescapably mounting as the Hard Pink Wand of Reckoning also helped to massage a very special, very magical button.
"The one they call Syrius Bidness," kathyrnrose continued between prolonged and guttural groans, "is a major threat to the lifestyle of the elders. And we must do everything in our power to ensure that this needless threat is removed from play."
"But he has become so impossibly powerful, performing as many as five or six positions up from the bottom of his tribe each and every week! How can we possibly stop the likes of him?" moaned the once-mighty technophile, now strapped helplessly to a log on his stomach as lilmissmagic71 lightly but relentlessly flicked her tongue ever so playfully over and around his exposed, eager man-hole.
"Uhll infuhhhltrate nnf infffestigate," offered lilmissmagic71 helpfully between impossibly teasing rim-strokes, bucking against the "magic" of her own right hand as she did so. "Uhh commen' reguhlahly nn hsss Elljay. He hathhh cmm tuh truss meh."
"No, this is simply not sufficient," rm piped in, before grabbing monkeysugarmama by the hair, pushing her onto her knees. "We must end this Syrius Bidness now... swiftly, and invisibly. He-- ahhh-- insults and mocks us without remorse. He-- ohhhhhh-- challenges the lesser of us to-- unnnnnh--- rap battles, who is to say who will-- oh! oh, oh!-- be next?"
"Silence!" brightflashes unbound technophile, only to re-bind him to the log on his back, slather him with excessive quantities of Astro-glide, and proceed to slide herself, poop-chute first, down onto his hard pink magic wand (although it was markedly smaller than the version in kathyrnrose's possession). "This Bidness is no threat to us. We have the power to stop his kind, and have done so before." She continued to stuff her backside full of half-flaccid but delicious techno-magic. "We need only to-- ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, unh unhhhhhhhh-- oppress his voter base for one week... perhaps, ohGODohgodohgod, perhaps we might call clauderainsrm and see if he is willing to exchange... exchange..."
"Exchange what, brightflashes?" The whole circle grew impatient.
"Oh, you guys know damn well that I just can't think straight when I've got a cock up in me. rm, slap my ass a few times to straighten me out, would you?"
"Yes, ma'am." The spankings commenced as the uniquely earthy smell of LJ-addict coupling continued to fill the night air.
"Thank you. Now, if we get Gary down here, and we can offer him a little bit of involvement in tonight's festivities, perhaps... perhaps he'd be willing to adjust the polls slightly..."
At this point, a pair of hands grabbed my laptop.
"Bidness, just what in the hell are you doing? 'Sexual Healing' was last week's topic, and this... this... honestly, are you just trying to get yourself killed?"
"Rev, the way I see it, all my favorite stories do involve fucking, and a lot of it. And on killing myself... yeah, well, so what? So what if I am?"
"Is that why you're up here on top of this nine-story parking garage?"
"Well, maybe. Mostly, I think I came up for the peace and quiet. How did you find me here anyway?"
"Listen, my boy... you don't successfully steal two presidential elections without having a hell of a national surveillance network."
The Rev sat down next to me and lit a smoke. He alt-tabbed through a few other files I had sitting open on the machine. "Look, what is this shit, Syrius? 'Dear LJ Idol: I can't think of anything to write on this week's topic, and I'm out of time this week, so I guess I'll just post a long entry complaining that I can't think of anything to write about this week's topic'?"
"That was a much earlier draft, Rev. I started typing that up about two minutes after Gary announced the topic, but I figured I could do a bit better."
"Syrius, not only is the concept of you with nothing to say a completely ludicrous concept in and of itself, you know full well that posting the whining-about-the-topic-and-time entry is the most surefire method there is to get yourself knocked out of Idol... the most surefire method, that is, next to naming all of the power players as part of an orgiastic quasi-pagan cabal..."
"Ah, but there's a more surefire method yet, Rev. Alt-tab a time or two more."
"'Dear LJ Idol: I've just got to share my very favorite story of all time with you... scroll uh...' OH, DEAR FUCKING GOD, SYRIUS." Rev turned away sharply from the laptop; for a moment I thought he might actually throw it down.
"Something the matter, Rev?"
"Syrius, is that a full-screen picture of you, naked, shoving various parts of a nativity set up your ass?"
"Something like that, Rev. I decided I would try to tell my readership the most inspirational tale of all, the original Biblical Christmas story. Only it's been told a lot, so to freshen the story up a bit, I decided I would tell the story in the style of Goatse."
"Jesus Christ, do the pictures have to be so... detailed?"
"Absolutely, Rev. If you were to try to tell the Christmas story with your pried-open, gaping anus in anything less than full-screen resolution, the LJ Idol readership would feel cheated of the timeless splendor of the tale."
"Syrius, why? Why are you trying to get yourself Idol-killed? Wasn't it you, mere weeks ago, saying how you were in this for the long haul, you were confident you could win the damn thing?"
I stood up and climbed onto the edge of the garage. "I'll think I'll fully answer that question, Rev," I said, "right after I see if I can do a nine-turn cannonball right onto the roof of that Corolla down there."
The Rev grabbed, unsuccessfully, for my ankles.
...to be continued, possibly