It was a quiet Tuesday morning in suburbia. The birds were chirping, the lawns were freshly mowed, and somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking at a squirrel that probably didn’t even exist.
But then, a loud, unmistakable whirr shattered the calm. A metallic figure hovered into view. It was a Dalek, its glowing eye scanning the neighborhood. But this wasn’t just any Dalek. This Dalek had been forever changed. It was now... a Pastafarian Dalek.
"I AM THE PASTAFARIAN DALEK. I COME TO SPREAD THE GOOD SAUCE!"
It hovered up to the first house, where a bewildered middle-aged man was watering his garden.
"EXTERMINATE... YOUR LACK OF SPAGHETTI KNOWLEDGE!" the Dalek boomed.
The man stopped watering and blinked. "What... what are you talking about?"
"I BRING YOU THE WORD OF THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER!" the Dalek continued, its voice crackling with enthusiasm. "DO YOU ACCEPT PASTAFARIANISM INTO YOUR LIFE AND YOUR MEATBALLS?"
The man looked even more confused now. "Uh... I’m good, thanks. I’m really just trying to keep these roses alive."
"EXTERMINATE THE UNENLIGHTENED!" the Dalek shouted, raising its plunger arm. But instead of a deadly blast, it awkwardly extended a tiny plastic cup filled with marinara sauce. "WILL YOU PLEASE ACCEPT THE SAUCE AND JOIN THE CHURCH OF PASTAFARIANISM?"
The man stared at the cup, then back at the Dalek. "Are you... are you serious?"
"I AM DEADLY SERIOUS. I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT OF PASTA. JOIN ME, AND WE WILL SPREAD THE SAUCE ACROSS THE NATION."
At this point, the man wasn’t sure whether he was dealing with an alien invader or a bizarre food critic. But, being a reasonable man, he tried to humor the Dalek.
“I’m not sure that’s for me, pal. But good luck with... whatever this is.”
"EXTERMINATE YOUR SKEPTICISM!" the Dalek cried, but then paused. It floated awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to such an unimpressed audience. "I... I WILL TRY NEXT DOOR."
The Dalek turned and floated off, its lights blinking in a pattern that could only be interpreted as "deeply conflicted." It buzzed and whirred to the next house.
Meanwhile, at the second house, a family was sitting down for breakfast when the Dalek arrived at their door, this time holding a large pasta pot like a holy relic.
"I AM THE PASTAFARIAN DALEK," it said with utmost seriousness. "DO YOU ACCEPT THE SAUCE? HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER AND THE GREAT MEATBALLS IN THE SKY?"
The family stared. The mother, who had been reaching for the cereal box, slowly put it back down. The father blinked, setting down his cup of coffee.
"Uh... do I have to answer that?" the dad asked, his eyebrows raised.
"YOU MUST!" the Dalek replied, plunger arm extended. "EXTERMINATE YOUR DOUBTS AND EMBRACE PASTA!"
The little girl, about seven years old, raised her hand excitedly. "Is this the part where we get spaghetti for dinner? I love spaghetti!"
The Dalek paused. "YES! YOU WILL HAVE SPAGHETTI FOR LIFE!"
The family, now thoroughly entertained by the strange metallic visitor, decided to play along. The father raised an eyebrow and leaned in. "So, do we get a noodle strainer, or do we have to supply our own?"
"YOU WILL RECEIVE A NOODLE STRAINER OF ETERNAL BLESSINGS. JOIN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER STRUGGLE WITH OVERCOOKED PASTA AGAIN!" the Dalek proclaimed, proudly raising its metallic plunger like a staff of glory.
At this point, a neighbor popped his head out of the window, saw the Dalek, and said, "What the heck is going on here? You guys starting a pasta cult?"
"IT IS NOT A CULT!" the Dalek shrieked. "IT IS A PASTAFARIAN CHURCH! SPAGHETTI IS THE TRUTH!"
The neighbour, now thoroughly entertained, gave a thumbs-up. "Okay, fine, you sold me. Pasta for dinner it is. Let’s do this thing!"
The Dalek turned to leave, its mission now complete. But before it could float away, it turned back and added, "EXTERMINATE ANY NON-ALDENTE PASTA. IT IS THE GREATEST SIN!"
