Somewhere Within The Island, Very Early Thursday Morning

[endsthegame]

Many jalapenos had been slain, either by the hands of Fandomites, or by flying too high (clouds) or flying too low (water). But one remained, crawling into the depths of the island to incubate. ...Or at least go un-chopped-up or rained-upon.

Its wings had been damaged, but it could still move. Slowly. One inch at a time.

Until it reached a large machine that had an unfortunate amount of band-aids attached to it. And string. And paper towelettes. And a piece of bone. And a pie. And something that said 'Stark Industries' on the side. And a wig. (A wig?)

The jalapeno had little consideration for this tremendous feat of repair that had kept the island phone-problem-free for the past year and a half. It heaved a deep breath-- and blew a tiny cloud of ash at the machine.

Five seconds later, an impressive set of red lights started blinking uncontrollably. Uh oh...

[[ commence crazy phones! ]]