It all started when our predictably heroic protagonist, Ardokil, woke up in a secret vineyard. It was the fourth time it had happened. Feeling exceedingly concerned, Ardokil grabbed a carrot, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Happy as a frickin' monkey, he realized that his beloved The Ark was missing! Immediately he called his so-called friend, Veronan. Ardokil had known Veronan for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were curious ones. Veronan was unique. She was smart though sometimes a little... stupid. Ardokil called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Veronan picked up to a very nervous Ardokil. Veronan calmly assured him that most legless puppies panic before mating, yet spotted wolf hamsters usually flamboyantly grimace *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Ardokil. Why was Veronan trying to distract Ardokil? Because she had snuck out from Ardokil's with the The Ark only two days prior. It was a exotic little The Ark... how could she resist?
It didn't take long before Ardokil got back to the subject at hand: his The Ark. Veronan sneezed. Relunctantly, Veronan invited him over, assuring him they'd find the The Ark. Ardokil grabbed his George Foreman grill and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Veronan realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the The Ark and she had to do it recklessly. She figured that if Ardokil took the gas-guzzling, ecology-destroying, tankish SUV, she had take at least eight minutes before Ardokil would get there. But if he took the bike? Then Veronan would be abundantly screwed.
Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Veronan was interrupted by four oafish Tigers that were lured by her The Ark. Veronan belched; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling concerned, she skillfully reached for her ripened avocado and aptly punched every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the disease-infested jungle, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the bike rolling up. It was Ardokil.
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Big Lots to pick up a 12-pack of dangerous oil-soaked rags, so he knew he was running late. With a heroic leap, Ardokil was out of the bike and went wildly jaunting toward Veronan's front door. Meanwhile inside, Veronan was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the The Ark into a box of live hand grenades and then slid the box behind her hammock. Veronan was concerned but at least the The Ark was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Veronan sassily purred. With a deft push, Ardokil opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some dimwitted self-righteous ass in a 'modded' Civic,' he lied. 'It's fine,' Veronan assured him. Ardokil took a seat just under where Veronan had hidden the The Ark. Veronan yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Ardokil was distracted. Unaware of the bleakness of existence, Veronan noticed a stupid look on Ardokil's face. Ardokil slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Veronan felt a stabbing pain in her fingernail when Ardokil asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the The Ark right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A stupid look started to form on Ardokil's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's live hand grenades from when she used to have pet South American hissing sloths. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Ardokil nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Veronan could react, Ardokil skillfully lunged toward the box and opened it. The The Ark was plainly in view.
Ardokil stared at Veronan for what what must've been eleven days. A few unsatisfying minutes later, Veronan groped charismatically in Ardokil's direction, clearly desperate. Ardokil grabbed the The Ark and bolted for the door. It was locked. Veronan let out a enchanting chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Ardokil,' she rebuked. Veronan always had been a little pestering, so Ardokil knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Veronan did something crazy, like... start chucking carrots at her or something. Happy as a frickin' monkey, he gripped his The Ark tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Veronan looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Ardokil. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame six days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Ardokil. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Veronan walked over to the window and looked down. Ardokil was gone.
Just yonder, Ardokil was struggling to make his way through the foxy forest behind Veronan's place. Ardokil had severely hurt his armpit during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral Tigers suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the The Ark. One by one they latched on to Ardokil. Already weakened from his injury, Ardokil yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of Tigers running off with his The Ark.
But then God came down with His congenial smile and restored Ardokil's The Ark. Feeling concerned, God smote the Tigers for their injustice. Then He got in His Jap Trap and blasted away with the fortitude of 550,000 spotted wolf hamsters running from a big pack of spotted wolf hamsters. Ardokil stumbled with joy when he saw this. His The Ark was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in ten minutes his favorite TV show, Spongebob, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When long-haired sea monkeys meet pipe bomb'). Ardokil was thrilled. And so, everyone except Veronan and a few pipe bomb-toting albino cats lived blissfully happy, forever after.