One time, and one time only shall the Sacred Book of Rites be opened for all to see. If at any time the prospective agent chooses to turn back, she is grabbed by the scruff of the neck and tossed back in.

To ensure that the new agent is prepared, she is given a short time for last words and prayer. Some initiates choose to invoke the power of various gods in order to give them strength. Typical sutras include "Oh Dear Eru" and the Dead 'Sue Sutra as transcribed below.

"I will kill the 'Sue.
I will protect Canon.
But only after I have completed the charge list
And charged the 'Sue
Shall I kill her.
Grant me strength,
Mighty Tolkien,
That I may destroy
This abomination of your most holy work."

Her mind must then be proven completely insane* by passing through the Halls of Doom and facing therein a bored Kender, a Gibbering Mouther, her worst fear, and Tom Bombadil's poetry recital.

Upon her exit from the Halls of Doom, she procedes to the final trial. She must capture a live specimen of the Warrior Sue breed (Homo perfectatus milites) for the final sacrifice.

Once the sacrifice is secured, all agents present gather for the victory parade with their Minis and partners. Often strange chants and body paint are employed in decoration for the victory party. One agent has been known to wear the blue skin of a unicorn in this tribal ritual. A large bonfire is lit by the DOGA clan and the Cactus clan prepares the altar for the Sueish Sacrifice.

The Sue is bound and gagged and led to the glitter-stained altar, whereupon she is sacrificed by use of canonical material. A passage from the world she has defiled is shown to her, and she explodes in a kaleidoscope of glittery sparkles as the gathered agents cheer.

After this, there is much feasting and rejoicing as the gathered clans welcome a new member to the tribe. The new member is showered with gifts of a bottle of a strange substance called "Bleeprin" by the natives, and various other gifts including cough drops, pineapples, bacon, bumper-stickers, and beads. This celebration lasts for only a short time, because not long after...

[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP]

Firstly, thou must obtain water from the Wellspring of the Sentient Paintbrushes. When thou hast done so, thou must bring it in the Bucket of Fated Destruction (which can be found only at the West Pole) to the Land of the Carnivorous Hairclips. With the Eyedropper of the Unbearable Stench thou must pour the water, drop by drop, on the Seed of Breakfast Waffles, which thou hast previously stolen from the burning house of the Priestess of Dry-Erase Markers under the light of a blue moon on a night when the cows are turning cartwheels, and buried at the exact spot where it can be an equal distance from every mushroom in the Echoing Grove, under the soil at the same depth as the tip of a stone spear stabbed into the ground with excitement by Eomer's third cousin's paternal grandmother's childhood enemy's great-granddaughter when her horse won its sixth race in a row. When the sprout has been visible for three solar eclipses, two lunar eclipses, and a Wednesday, thou shalt transplant it into a flowerpot that, at some point in time, had its rim chipped by a soldier with a black beard three feet long whose mother was from Germany and whose father was from England and whose ex-wife's great-aunt spoke with a lisp. The soil in the pot must be from the grave of a virgin who died while wearing rabbitskin slippers. Carry the pot in your left hand while keeping your right pinkie in your brother's ear. Do not pause to rest and do not look behind you (neither may your brother) until you have reached PPC headquarters. Find the reception center of a perfectly sane and stable assassin. There you must set the pot down in the place where a mini-Balrog has once stood while it willingly wore a ballgown. Using an unblooded, perfectly plain and unmagical dagger stolen from a Mary-Sue whose story does not have a single grammar or spelling mistake, cut the top inch and seven thirteenths of an inch of the plant exactly in half vertically. Pour into the center the blood of a politician who never told a lie until the plant overflows just enough that three drops spill down the outside of the stem. Walk around the pot six times backwards counterclockwise, all the while reciting an original sonnet in Westron about the evils of badfic and pledging never to write it excepting in parody. Then kneel a Narsil's length (before it was broken) away from the pot and clasp your hands with your right thumb over your left, holding them out before you. Raising your eyes upwards at a 72 degree angle, cry out your everlasting devotion to the goddess GreyLadyBast in the form of several acrostic haikus. Vertically, the first letter of every line must spell out the phrase "I am of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum." Do a twenty-eight minute long interpretive dance to the greatness of Tolkien. Scream at the top of your lungs until you lose consciousness from oxygen deprivation.

Then, O uninitiated one, and only then, may you join our exalted ranks!!!!! **

(Fields marked with * are required.)

*Name:
*Species:
Preferred continuum:
Preferred department:
I like to: (check all that apply)
__ kill 'Sues
__ light fires
__ use gadgets
__ administer first aid
__ fix things
__ provide psychological help
__ yell
__ assassinate
__ stop homicidal partners
__ destroy fuzzy animal companions
__ wash bloodstains
__ be on medication
__ knit
__ find new ways to kill 'Sues
__ travel to new places
__ Other (Please specify):
__________________________________
__________________________________

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