And so, as the clouds pushed across the sky and the un moved around
the earth, Harold Foundery and Roy came into the autumn years of their
lives. Those wild happy days of youth slipped from view and returned
no more to the screaming ass man and his screaming ass.

It came upon the pair to take a trip across this great land to survey
all that they had created with their monetary empire, supremely
successful corporation. The money had bought orphanages, schools,
playgrounds, theaters, tennis courts, water fountains, little stands
with plastic dog poop disposal bags, publicly accessible cat toys,
fish runs, frog shaving pavilions, and picnic tables with little lady
bugs painted onto the seats.

But neither Harold  Foundery nor Roy Roy the Jelly Boy had seen any of
those things. They had simply signed the checks. Oh the checks. For
weeks on end, nothing but signing checks. When Roy was asleep, Harold
signed. When Harold was eating, Roy signed. A constant stream of
donations exited their bank account steadily for over 20 years.
Screaming Ass Pants Industries extended its arms across the globe,
always gentle and friendly to those it met. It was the helmsmen's
work, but it had kept them occupied for so long that neither Harold
nor Roy remembered the last time they had gone down a slide or ridden
a polar bear.

One day, as a particularly beautiful sun rose over the window sill in
Harold's bedroom, the pair decided to vacation. Retire to see that
which they had created so long ago and seen so little of.

They left immediately, one suitcase each. By the end of the day, they
were in a meadow, walking steadily on towards the flower strewn
heavens of the horizon. It was here, in the field that they paused and
spent the evening whistling and cooking sausages over an impromtu
fire. And it was here that the pair experienced an epiphany. The
knowledge that they were unique unto this world. Unto this universe.
The creation of Roy and Harold was something that would never happen
again, and had never happened before. their being was unlikened to a
god's. The heavens opened and shown the truth down upon them. This
world was theirs. Their own. The reason for it's being. It had all
been created for them. In all the universe, in all the realities, in
all the possible beings of being, Harold and Roy were the singular
itteration in this universe, a being so improbable and bizarre that
the whole of existence hinged upon its creation. The end result
desired by the beginning.

In the morning, the pair trudged on in a bright morning dew. The
sudden understanding of reality made for brisk walking, a better step
and speed than usual. By afternoon, Harold and Roy came upon a dirt
road amidst a field of daisies and sun flowers. They followed it. It
carried them on a properly well appointed path, past ponds, ducks,
geese, trees, bugs, and honeysuckle. Bright smiles on their faces,
harold and Roy eventually found themselves standing in front of a
large, untouched playground.

Roy dropped his suitcase and screamed. Harold dropped his and laughed.
They bounded through the reeds and grass like a happy puppy, ready to
play and dance in the sun and glory of life. They headed for the
swings, and swung back and forth for hours, until the darkness came
and left them blinded by lack of light. The wind flew soflty by them
as they coasted up and down, back and forth.

As the light waned and eventually vanished, harold and Roy left the
swings and journeyed to the large slide in the center of the
playground. At the bottom of the ladder, Roy screamed and pointed out
a plaque at the base of it. It read the following:

"from the hearts of Roy and Harold Foundery, the fathers of
screaming-ass-pants and heaven upon the Earth, bringers of the joy
brought unto thee through frolics and slides such as that which thou
hath come upon this evening. Beware the slippery slopes of life. But
heed the call of fun."

they both smiled and then ascended the ladder. At the top, the meadow
stretched out before them. the stars rode the skies high above, slowly
dancing about the Earth in a soliloque of time. One quick inhalation
from both and the evening was sterned in their hearts forever. Without
warning, Harold lept forward onto the slide and  coasted down the
steep metal incline. Roy screamed, louder and harder than any had
before heard. Harold tried to stop the skidding, but could not. he
turned to look behind him and discovered his campatriot spilled out
across the slide behind him, gushing over the edges of the slide,
landing below on the crushed tire that padded the park. Harold was
agahst. Roy was screaming. His yelp pierced the wind and carried for
miles. The scream was heard around the globe, it is said. But those
who heard it most were those that immediately knew what it was. The
slide ended, and Harold stood and began trying to mop up Roy's liquid
body.

it was for naught. Roy was gone, dripping into the soil and rubber,
screaming all the way. After a few moments, teh screams vanished,
muffled beneath the firmament.

harold stood there for a long time. Staring down. Under the ehavens.
the stars. The universe.