[ WP ] One morning , in the town of Thompson Falls , Montana , the inhabitants wake to find the entire town encased by a one-foot thick dome of solid , translucent , delicious jello .

It was the screams that woke me up, oddly enough. Many thousands of tons of jell-o suddenly collapsing on top of a small town should be quite loud. I suppose the screams pierce through reinforced concrete more than the thud-sploosh of delicious death that fell from the sky. 
 
 It was inexplicable. As I opened the hatch to my bunker where I spent most nights, the goop fell around me and I tasted it as some got in my mouth. At least it was strawberry. The screams got louder as I walked down the path towards the main part of town. 
 
 Everything was absolutely covered. Sticky. I could n't tell who was bleeding out or crushed, and who was just going for a swim in the town's new pools of jell-o that coalesced after the initial impact. 
 
 I found old Jon Bopkins sitting on what remained of the porch of his house, smoking a pipe. I had to know what happened -- and Jon was sure to know. 
 
 `` Jon just where the hell did this jell-o come from?'' 
 
 He just pointed. 
 
 There flew an aircraft pulling a streamer-sign. `` JELL-OME BY OBAMA'' 
 
 I scratched my head and then licked the sugary residue off of my fingers. 
 
 `` Well,'' I said to Jon, `` thanks, Obama.'' 
 
 I wished he would have taken that third term.
