As he watched the proceedings unfold in court, Dr. Maximillian Tundra was starting to understand how Mohammed or Jesus might feel if they could see what had happened to their teachings.
Of course, all great prophets someday have their ideas formalized and turned into religions, but Dr. Tundra had just not been thinking about that when he formed his own sect of Pastafarianism, the First Church of the Noodly Norsemen.
Like other Pastafarians, they believed that the universe was created by the Flying Spaghetti Monster. But while other worshipers thought it was the declining number of pirates that has caused the increase in global warming, hurricanes and earthquakes, Dr. Tundra had been preaching that, in truth, it was a lack of Vikings.
And now a radical sect of his very church (popularly known as the Norse Pastafarians) had been arrested for planning an extensive terror campaign against the misguided pirate-based version.
They called themselves the Lost Boys and planned to eradicate the pirate-believers. And they had been caught, because of Dr. Tundra.
He’d really had no other choice. The lead terrorist, who called himself “The Peter”, had been unwilling to listen to Dr. Tundra’s arguments.
“Peter –” he had started.
“THE Peter,” The Peter had interrupted.
“Sorry, The Peter, The First Church of the Noodly Norsemen is a religion of peace. It’s about loose morals and having Fridays off, not buying several tons of ammonium nitrate and dressing up in tights.”
“Your faith is weak old man,” The Peter had laughed at him. “You will see when the Righteous Rigatoni places me at his noodly side over you.”
And as he’d called the RCMP, Dr. Tundra couldn’t help but reflect that maybe his fake religion wasn’t such a good joke after all. As he watched the charges read in court, now he was sure.