The last time we checked in on half-assed, half-marathon Sarah, or, as OZ Mudflats calls her, “Our Lady of the Divine Sneakers,” she was trudging her way back home after dealing a death blow to the hopes and dreams of her crazy pack of flying monkeys. However, one rill American patriot doesn’t believe she is going to sit down and shut up, so he has decided to take things into his own hands.
Justice in PlasticLand is swift and mayhemy. It must be, because the Mordor of PlasticLand (PlasticDoor?) is pumping out an assembly line of Sarahs, each one screechier than the last. The good citizens of PlasticLand cannot rest until the fiery flames of PlasticDoor are quenched, and the Sarah mold is broken. Then, and only then, can the denizens of this fine land have their Banquet of Rejoicing.
Which courageous citizen of PlasticLand has stepped forward this time to take on one of the Sarahs?
And what will be his instrument of justice?