If you have no idea what an SPBB post is, go to the Sad Puppies tab above, and start reading. Otherwise, you are going to be so very, very lost.
The short version? This is a parody. A strange joke that started with a strange fever dream, and spiraled into a comedy of epic proportions.
You may have noticed over time that this has gone back and forth, sliding along a temporal spectrum like a slide rule. That's because this is in no particular order. And, last time I checked, Brad is busy in the sandbox playing with ISIS, Larry has better things to do than WorldCon (like DragonCon), and most everyone else has a life, so my Puppies of WorldCon posts weren't even pretending to predict the future. You might have caught that around the time I unleashed Cthulu on them...and if you didn't read prior entries, spoilers. Aren't you sad you didn't read them before. Now go ahead, this post will still be here when you get back.
Thanks to Matt Bowman, Jason Garrick and Marina Fontaine for their input on this one.
And now, we're almost done, it is once again time to ....
Oh, you know.
[To begin with, Heinlein was dead. As dead as a doornail, but not quite as dead as the neurons in John Scalzi's brain. The two Neilsen-Haydens, Teresa and Patrick, are fast asleep in their beds -- single beds, on opposite sides of the room. The room is filled with a sudden, bright light. In the center of the room is a glowing, translucent figure in a midshipman's uniform.]
[Ghost]: "I am the ghost of--"
[TNH:] "Nooooooo! Hsssssss . . ."
[Ghost]: ". . . What?"
[PNH]: "She's . . . allergic to . . . you know. That thing some people say in place of 'holiday season.'"
[Ghost]: "You mean 'Christmas'?"
[TNH screams. It sounds EXACTLY like a Wilhelm Scream.]
[Ghost]: "Wow. You're not very original, are you?"
[PNH] looks like he's about to agree, but then thinks better of it] "Hey, don't talk about my -- oh, wait, sorry, dear. I almost defended you there."
[TNH]: "That's okay, honey. I know, this Hugo situation is enough to make even the best feminist male start acting like a chauvinist pig."
[Ghost]: "Well, that's why I'm here."
[PNH]: "To be a chauvinist pig?"
[Ghost]: "No, I'm the Ghost of Hugos Past."
[TNH]: "Nooooooo! That's almost as bad!"
[PNH]: "I have to agree. That stuff contains Heinlein."
[TNH]: "Hsssssss . . ."
[PNH: "Don't worry, dear, it also contains Marion Zimmer Bradley and David Gerrold. So this fellow can't be ALL bad."
[Ghost]: "Hey, give me a break. I can't be blamed for that one. That's up to the Ghost of Hugos Present. Some years he gets drunk. I think that year he was high."
[PNH narrows his eyes] So, what do you want?
[Both cringe. TNH snarls first] How dare you! We can never lose the Hugos!
[PNH] Of course, dear.
[PNH and TNH crawl back into bed. They book look around, then each of them turns on their book lights on their nightstands. They flash each other nervous smiles, then tuck in]
I hate to break it to you, but the rest of this post has been moved to a different location. Where, you might ask?