One summer afternoon, the members of the former Strange Table and Dude were on a mission.
     The Strange Table was a group of Niles West students on summer break. Their ethnic group consisted of Sicko, who has twenty-three subscriptions to Club magazine; Annoying, who can enunciate very well with a mouthful of food; Dangerously Psycho, who is very proud of his collection of human spleens; Drum Boy, who has perfected piano playing with mallets; GOD, who is watching over our heroes from his temple beyond mortality; and What DeHelizat, who can drive people insane with a mere friendly conversation.
     On this particular weekend, the Strange Table was trying to locate the former Parin Table. The Parin Table consisted of Arrogant, who holds his chin up so high, he can see things going on behind himself; Hyper, who would like to have an IV of concentrated sugar at his bedside; Drug Overdose, who could witness a nuclear explosion and not remember it; Obnoxious, who keeps a notebook in his pocket for those moments he thinks of a really good insult; and Cello Girl. In order to locate these five, the members of the former Strange Table were following Dude back to his house.
     "We've got to hurry," stated Psycho.
     "Yeah," agreed Drum Boy, "Operation Destruction may not function correctly with the existence of Parin's clones."
     The six reached Dude's house and went upstairs to his bedroom. Pieces of mechanical junk were strewn throughout the room, everywhere.
     "Dude, dude, d-du-dude!" shouted the technician.
     "Sorry, Dude," apologized What. "We didn't mean to clean your room."
     "This is clean?" questioned Drum Boy.
     "It is compared to my brother's room," pointed out Annoying.
     "So how are we going to find Parin's clones anyway?" asked Sicko.
     "Du-dude, dude, d-dude," explained Dude as he began connecting circuit boards to a wire hanging down from the ceiling.
     "So you can pinpoint the exact location of the clones by running a scan for the specific DNA strands you created for them?" interrogated What.
     "Dude? Dude?"
     "Yes, you're right Dude..." realized What. "I guess I usually do repeat all your lines. That is odd."
     "No!" shouted Sicko. "'That' is awesome!"
     "D-dude, du-dude," stated the technician as he attached the apparatus he'd been constructing to a monitor. He pressed a button and the room began to shake.
     People walking by outside stopped to observe a gigantic radar detector emerge from the roof of Dude's house.
     The machine began beeping as Dude adjusted some dials. Sicko began repeating the beeps and laughing. Drum Boy whacked Sicko in the gut with an antenna. Sicko shut up.
     "Dude!" exclaimed the inventor.
     "According to this, the clones are all in the same vehicle averaging about 107mph on the Edens Expressway," read What.

     Meanwhile, five teenagers were trying to perfect highway water-skiing incorporating a Porshe, some rope, and skateboards.

     They should go past the school in about two minutes," stated Psycho. "There's no way we can make it in time!"
     "D-dude, d-dude, dude!" suggested the craftsman.
     "You mean you can teleport us there with another one of your inventions, but you'll have to stay behind to operate the device?" asked What.
     "DUDE, DUDE-D-DUDE!" shrieked Dude.
     "Sorry! I'll stop repeating your lines!"
     The group was placed on five separate circular pads. As Dude threw a switch, beams of light shot at the teenagers and separated their molecules. The machine vacuumed up the Strange Atoms and they were shot through a molecular canon to the high school.
     "Can anyone explain to me what just happened here?" asked Annoying as his pieces reassembled.
     "Who cares?" replied Drum Boy. "Just so long as we're here. Quick, to the overpass!" The five ran to the bridge.
     "There they are!" shouted What, observing a pileup forming a mile up the road. "Get ready!"
     "But shouldn't we have a plan first?" queried Sicko.
     "Yeah? Wuddarwe supposed to get ready to do, anyway?" asked Drum Boy.
     "Uhhh... good question," realized What.
     "Here they come!" announced Annoying.
     "Oh, nasty!"
     "Sitting Bull!" cried Psycho as he plunged off the bridge.
     "Psycho!!! Wuddo you think you're...?!!" shrieked What. Amazingly, Psycho landed head first in the passenger seat of the Porshe.

     "H-h-hey, Arrogant!" yelled Hyper. "Someone j-just landed in the seat n-next to me! W-what should I do about 'im?"
     "Activate the ejector seat, you ignoramus," answered the clone.
     "W-which one?"
     "Are you really that much of a simpleton... oh, never mind. Let me get up there." Arrogant pulled on the rope he was highway-skiing from and climbed into the back seat next to Cello Girl. "Who is the knave that has interrupted our excursion anyway, hm?"
     "Uhhhg... no, Tonto? Geronimo! That's who I meant!" Psycho sat up in the car. "Oh, darn. I was aiming for the ice-cream truck."
     "Egad, it's that miserable Psycho character again!" noted Arrogant. "Remove him at once!"
     "Look!" shouted Psycho. "A massive chocolate spill on the highway!"
     "Where?" cried Hyper, glancing around. Psycho took this opportunity to jerk on the steering wheel and slam on the brakes.
     "WAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Obnoxious and Drug Overdose flew by on their respective skateboards.
     "Whoa, that was fun! We'll have to do it again some time," offered Psycho. "Well, gotta run!" Psycho leaped out of the vehicle and began sprinting back toward the high school.
     "You aren't very bright, are you?" questioned Arrogant.
     "Chocolate?" replied Hyper.
     "Make some use of your insignificant, energetic self and GO GET HIM, hm?" suggested Arrogant.
     "Uh, ok."

     "I think something happened," decided Annoying.
     "Is that Psycho running back in this direction?" pondered Drum Boy.
     "Is he running against traffic?" interrogated What.
     "Yup," confirmed Drum Boy.
     "Then it's definitely D.P." concluded Sicko.
     "There's someone following him," noticed Annoying.
     "And he's going pretty fast, too... whoops! Wow! I've never seen someone recover from being hit by a bus so quickly!" said an astonished Annoying.
     Psycho rejoined his companions on the bridge.
     "Psycho, are you ok?" asked What.
     "Huff, huff, I, gasp, think we should, huff, get moving!" panted Psycho.
     "Good idea," agreed Drum Boy, observing Hyper approaching with the Porshe close behind.

     "Where'd the idiot go?" yelled Obnoxious.
     "H-he and his buddies, like, ran to the school!" answered Hyper.
     "Hm, so it would seem as though the whole cavalry is here, wouldn't it?" stated Arrogant. "I would believe that it is time to put a final end to this conflict, wouldn't you all agree?"
     "Um, ok," said Cello Girl.
     "Hop in, speedy," suggested Drug Overdose. Hyper climbed in the back as Arrogant drove them to the school.

     On the football field once again, the five members of the former Strange Table prepared for battle.
     "Remember what we've learned," reminded What. "To get the upper hand, we must match each clone with his own power and defeat him with another of our abilities."
     "But how do we defeat Arrogant and Cello Girl?" pondered Drum Boy.
     "Not even GOD was sure," replied What. "We'll just have to hope for the best."
     Suddenly, a Porshe burst through the gate. "Well, here goes nothing," sighed Psycho.
     The two teams lined up on opposite side of the football field, facing each other. "It's time to put an end to all of this," claimed Psycho.
     "Hm, yes," agreed Arrogant. "Now we'll finally be able to wipe you ugly grease marks off of our lovely Earth."
     "I think not, you genetic freaks," retorted Psycho. "Let's rumble."
     "If you insist." agreed Arrogant. At that moment, cello music began playing.
     "Arrghh..." panted What. "Orchestral... mu-sic..."
     "Not... again..." wheezed Psycho.
     "Zzzzzzz..." snored Annoying.
     "Can't... maintain consciousness..." gasped Sicko.
     "Ha, ha!" jested Obnoxious. "You dorks! Too bad you aren't genetically immune to terrible noises like we are, heh, heh... huh?" Obnoxious was cut short by the drum beat to Sing, Sing, Sing. "What is going on?"
     "I am not!"
     "Huh?"
     "Who?"
     "Jenny Anydots?"
     "Let me get this straight," yelled Drum Boy, continuing his improvisation of drum sticks on chain-link fence. "You think that ultimately boring music is enough to defeat a percussionist?"
     "Allow me to offer my critique," stated Psycho, as he hurled his broadaxe at the cello, severing its neck. "Yup, I can even decapitate expensive pieces of wood."
     "Um, darn it," said Cello Girl.
     "You stupid dorks!" screamed Obnoxious. "What kind of idiots are you, challenging us?"
     "Your mother!" shouted Annoying.
     "Huh? What kind of bogus insult is that, numskull?"
     "Your mother!" answered Annoying.
     "You big, bloated beanbag! You wouldn't know a real insult if it snuck up behind you and bit off a chunk of..."
     "Your mother!" retorted Annoying.
     "Now that just doesn't make any sense!"
     "Your mother!" repeated Annoying.
     "Now cut it out!"
     "Your mother!" persisted Annoying.
     "What the hell is wrong with you?!!!" Obnoxious was frantic and jumping around in tantrum. "Those aren't even true insults!" sobbed the clone.
     "Your mother!" restated Annoying.
     "Oh, I give up! This is impossible! Don't you understand? You can't just repeat the same stupid thing over and over...!" Suddenly Obnoxious disappeared into smoke and a puddle of liquid.

     "H-hey! Y-you can't do that to us!" chimed Hyper.
     "Do 'that' to you? Oh, nasty! Who'd want to, anyway?"
     "That does it!" decided Hyper.
     "Oh, n..."
     "Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Oh n-nasty'. You're really p-p-perverted, you know?"
     "So I've heard. You're supposed to have a lot of energy, right?"
     "No one has m-more!" sang Hyper.
     "Bet I can climb that tree faster than you," challenged Sicko.
     "You're on!" agreed Hyper, shaking with anticipation.
     "Sicko," whispered What, "I hope you know what you're doing. How do you intend to use your Sicko powers to race up a tree?"
     "Trust me," promised Sicko.
     "H-hurry up!" shouted Hyper.
     "I'm ready. GO!" The two scurried up the tree. Amazingly, Sicko won by an entire second.
     "I-I don't, I mean, how? How did you p-possibly beat me?" pondered Hyper at the top.
     "Where there's a will, there's a hard-on." recited Sicko.
     "That's just gross." stated Hyper, before turning into a pile of processed sugar.
     "'That' sometimes is."

     "It's your turn, Overdose," determined Psycho.
     "Man, weren't you at Woodstock?" queried Drug Overdose. "We can all live in total harmony. Like peace! *COUGH!*"
     "Uh, yeah, sure whatever," Psycho was a little confused and disappointed.
     "Whoa, look! A weapon dealer!" shouted Drug Overdose, pointing beyond Psycho.
     "Where?" Lowering his guard, Psycho turned around. "I don't see anyth..." Drug Overdose applied a sharp jab to Psycho's chin. "Ouch! Again!" He received another punch. "Wow, thanks. Hey, it's someone selling bad acid!"
     "Huh? Where?" Drug Overdose's severed head landed on the football field. A moment later, his entire body turned to pot ashes.
     "Well, that was fun," concluded Psycho.

     The only ones left on the football field besides the former Strange Table were Arrogant and Cello Girl.
     "Hm, well it would appear as though we were out of options, wouldn't you say?" questioned Arrogant.
     "Um, sure," agreed Cello Girl.
     "Tactical retreat or surrender?" Arrogant realized that the two were now surrounded. "Surrender it is. Well, Dangerously Psycho, it would appear as though the better man has won."
     "Yup, it certainly looks that way," confirmed Psycho.
     "So wuddowe do with them?" wondered Drum Boy.
     "How about unleashing the powers of the protractor?" pleaded Annoying. "PLEASE?"
     "I don't think that would be necessary," spoke What. "Don't you dare say it, Sicko."
     Sicko unhappily closed his mouth.
     "But wuddarwe going to do with them?" questioned Psycho. "Hey, what the..."

     What DeHelizat once again found himself at the front of the Strange Temple. With nothing better to do, he entered.
     "Greetings once more, Bane of Confusion," spoke GOD. He was standing with his four companions and the two remaining clones. "You have done well in defeating the three Parin Table creations. I have reached a decision which I wish to present to you."
     "Wuddarwe going to do with the last two clones?" asked What.
     "They seem to no longer be a threat to your mission. Arrogant has surrendered, and no hostility remains in either of them."
     "So we're going to let them live?"
     "Well... let's not be too destructive. In time, these two may actually benefit your mission."
     "Interesting. Is that the decision you wished to present?"
     "No," continued the deity. "The decision I have reached is that I wish to join you five on Earth. No doubt, there are other conflicts in the time ahead that must be dealt with in some way or another, and I sense that my immediate help may be necessary."
     "So you're going to leave the temple? You're allowed to do that?"
     "Well, there are certain forms I'll have to file, some signatures, a little bribery in the correct places, but basically I'll be taking on a mortal incarnation. Probably as an upperclassman."
     "Cool. Is there anything else?"
     "Actually, I believe that solves just about every problem, except for the name of your group. During the time that I guided you through Hot Dog Bob, you five called yourselves the Strange Table. The school administration is being careful to shuffle the lunch mods and whom eats when. You five will no longer share identical free mods."
     "Then wuddarwe supposed to do?" worried What.
     "Now is an important time. I will be joining as a sixth member. From hereon, you will call yourselves the Strange Society."
     "Strange... Society. The Strange Society!" What awoke from his trance with the other four members and the two clones. Everyone seemed to understand.

     One weekday, the Strange Society was wandering around Niles West after school.
     "So the process went fine?" asked Psycho.
     "No major problems. Only that they almost incarnated me as a clarinet player. Fortunately, I got them to change it to trombone," explained GOD.
     "So you're totally devoid of all your powers?" queried What.
     "No, I still have some superior abilities. I can kill people and all, but only with life threatening diseases and such. I can't fly anymore, either, but I can still transport us to the temple. Also, have you ever noticed how there will be houses with beautiful lawns and then, suddenly, a lot with dead grass and dry dirt patches? That's my work!"
     "So, whatever happened with the clones?" questioned Drum Boy.
     "Actually, they prefer to be called 'non-umbilically dependent', but they're both fine. I put Arrogant in charge of the Temple of Strangeness, and Cello Girl joined the Niles West orchestra."
     "So she's returned to her own kind. How sweet," sniveled Annoying.
     "As if the concerts already didn't put enough people to sleep," pointed out Sicko.
     "Well, this just about resolves every issue we've confronted in this adventure," declared Sicko.
     "Outstanding, though, isn't it?" asked Psycho. "This story has been almost thirty pages of the usual strange nonsense, and somehow we have solved all of our conflicts in a true adventure where the end result is happy for everyone involved. Now we can all go on to lives of pure joy and happiness with no obstacles, until I get arrested again for something or other."
     "Who writes your material, anyway?" queried GOD.
     "I dunno."
     "It does seem as though we're forgetting something," added What.
     "How do you mean?" proceeded Drum Boy. "Dude ended up perfectly fine. We explained everything which happened to him afterward."
     "Yeah, no one is left unaccounted for," finished GOD.

     Meanwhile, at Parin's house, the Lord of all Dweebs was still trying to get out of his duct tape prison.

     "So wuddo you guys do for fun, anyway?" wondered GOD.
     "Well, usually in a situation like this, we go hunting," suggested What.
     "Sounds good to me," agreed GOD.
     "Great! I'll get the lawn darts!" offered Psycho. The six headed off for the forest preserve.

     Will the Strange Society finally bag a moose? Will Parin ever free himself? Will Dude learn proper enunciation? Who cares? The story's over! Go do your homework or build a bomb, or something constructive like that.
     Oh, nasty.