Once upon a time, in an age of darkness and violence, God sent to Earth a messenger with a light. This light was a holy book which contained simple instructions for how one can live a good life: do not worship false gods, pray, give to charity, be nice to people, tell the truth, fast, forgive others, be fair in justice.

This holy book also said that it was complete and no additions were needed.

With the light of this holy book, the messenger helped build a successful, thriving, united and tolerant society despite the surrounding age of darkness.

When the messenger died, his succeeding rulers tried to be very careful not to add any additional rules to the holy book, because they feared such rules would obscure the light of what their messenger brought.

And yet as the years went by, little by little, succeeding rulers decided it wouldn’t be so bad to add a teensy tiny little additional rule here or there. These later rulers recruited people who knew the messenger to support their new rules. They compiled stories from these people called “floobs.”

One of the most prolific early narrators of floobs was Glemulus Son of Gloplor, a friend of the messenger. Nevermind that Glemulus Son of Gloplor was said to be a liar by the people who knew him. Or that Glemulus Son of Gloplor got deposed from his position of authority over the land of Flemdum for embezzling Flemdum’s Jello stores.

None of that matters, because Glemulus Son of Gloplor’s just so happened to know the messenger. And he narrated some 5,000 floobs.

Over time, hundreds of thousands of floobs had been collected. There were now far more floobs than the text of the original holy book. People began to study the floobs more than the holy book. And floob experts—floobists—insisted you could only understand the holy book through the floobs. In fact, they even said that the holy book was incomplete without the floobs!

According to the floobs, one has to throw Jello on their face while they pray, praise Bill Cosby three times when they go to the bathroom, all women have to wear a head to toe chicken suit, people can’t eat tacos when there is a full moon, and yet there is another floob that says people must eat tacos on the full moon. Sometimes floobs contradict each other, but it all makes sense because floobism is a very accurate and holy science, and if you haven’t studied it for ten years and don’t speak fluent Pig Latin, then you’re not really in any position to criticize it because all the floobs are carefully translated from Pig Latin.

To those reading this, you’re probably outsiders. This could sound a little odd to you. So I will explain the science. There are chains of flubs used to verify the floobs. The floob about throwing Jello in one’s face is from Slemulon who heard it from Glisandia who heard it from Thorglon who heard it from the slave of Rhindigor, who heard it from Cakenon, all the way back to Glemulus Son of Gloplor, who we all know was beyond reproach just because he so happened to know the messenger.

Sometimes later versions of floobs are more elaborate than earlier versions of the same floob. For instance, an earlier version of one floob says that you must look both ways before you cross the street. A later version of that same floob says you must look both ways while you moonwalk across the street. Some historians would say this is evidence of “embellishment,” but those historians just don’t understand the very accurate and very holy science of floobism.

And this science is so holy that that Floobists must put anyone to death who questions their floobs. So there is complete tolerance in the religion you see, but only if you do everything that the floobists say exactly and think how the floobists tell you to think. Anything otherwise is dangerous.

There are two main sects of Floobists. The Red Floobists, who think that one should throw red Jello in their faces while they pray. And the Blue Floobists, who think that one should throw blue Jello in their faces while they pray. The Red and Blue Floobists have been at war with each other for centuries. But surely one of them is correct.

1,400 years after the death of the messenger, a man deemed Klorb the Insane by the Floobists has studied the holy book, and Klorb is certainly crazy, because he claims that the holy book contains nothing of all the Floobists important rules. Klorb the Insane decides to simply follow the holy book itself, and has even gone as far as to say he uses “common sense” and “reason” for whatever isn’t specified.

So naturally the Floobists denounce Klorb as an apostate and put him on trial.

They say, “How do you know what color of Jello to throw in your face when you pray?”

Klorb the Insane says, “Maybe we don’t have to throw Jello in our faces. Maybe we can just pray to God, and that’s what’s important.”

“God forgive him!” the Floobists cry. Then they ask, “And how do you know what kind of feathers to collect for your wife’s chicken suit?”

“My wife doesn’t wear a chicken suit,” Klorb the Insane replies. “She just uses common sense and dresses modestly.”

“Heresy!” they shout. “And do you know what to say to Bill Cosby when you go to the bathroom?”

“I don’t say anything to Bill Cosby,” Klorb the Insane says. “That’s unnecessary. All that’s necessary is remembering God, being a good person and doing good deeds.”

So of course the Floobists do the reasonable thing and kill Klorb for his insanity. Then they continue to fight among themselves over what color Jello is best to throw in one’s face, and wonder why their civilization is falling apart while people who don’t even know a single floob are figuring out how to cure diseases and put people into outer space.

And that everyone, is the very accurate and holy science of Floobism.