Spike strolls out into the streets, dressed in colorful clothing. Red, Black, Blue, Green. It is a party, a parade party.

A band walks behind him, playing ragtime music. Balloons waft into the wind. Children hold sparklers. Behind that, a float, with Willie_G_Skull standing front and center. And from above, there is a large pink piggy balloon floating.

The procession makes it to the center of Union Square. Crowds begin to form around. The musicians play even harder, trombones and cymbals crashing. Someone shoots off a cannon, and the music cuts off, to silence. As just the sound of just one monkey with a broom cleaning up the trail of playful and fanfare carnage in the streets they left behind, Spike steps up on a small stage to give a speech as confetti flows all around them, adorned with nipple tassels:

Here we are to celebrate, a pig. Much like we do on New Years, we are in the middle of a countdown to ecstasy. Soon, this pig’s family will have reached 30,000 hours. I do not know of any others who have done so. I, myself, have not reached this depressing achievement. However, we will celebrate this old pig, and all of his oinks. Let us praise him for his legend, a true legend, by all accounts. Let us dance with him and for him in appreciation. It is a joyous time and a time to party. Today, we will not eat pork, only beef hotdogs. Thank you

Spike waits for Willie_G_Skull to take the stage to give his speech as the crowd looks on intently with more confetti cannons going off, full blast. Children spin around noisemakers gleefully. People set off fireworks off their roofs, watching and listening intently, for the piggeh of the approaching hour.

Willie awoke from unconsciousness in a garage that looked like what appeared to be a parade float. He saw Spike's stupid, fat, grinning face appear over his own, holding up a syringe and lowering it toward him...

"This won't hurt a bit", the hobbit-like man sneered.

The injection went right into Willie's cheekbone and immediately thereafter, two large men grabbed each arm and hoisted Willie up on to the parade float. He was placed front and center. A shackle was chained to each leg. Willie found himself beginning to smile uncontrollably, like an idiot, like Spike, who suddenly appeared peeking out from a trap door in the float's floor...

"You have injected with a muscle paralysis serum. It will cause you no harm, but you may find that the muscles in your face are temporarily frozen into a smiling position. Have a nice day!"

Willie tried to kick at the weeble peeking out from the trap door, but his leg was chained too tightly to the floor. He could do nothing but stand there and smile, and wait for the ordeal to be over.

As the float began to move down the street, Spike popped his head up from the trap door holding a sharp stick. He jabbed it into Willie's shin a few times while cursing "Wave! Wave!" at our hero. 

"You do a good job, and maybe we will set you free, but if you do not cooperate, I will keep you in my service as long as I see fit!" the disgusting man frothed at the gallant and noble Willie.

Willie let out a sigh. It could be worse, he surmised. Begrudgingly, he stood atop the float and waved at the gathered onlookers. Looking off to the side, he saw a sign posted above the crowd for all to see:

Hours on all characters: 29969.69

"Noice" said the Pig, as he contined smiling and waving...

Pest takes a second and looks at the hours of his lineage.  He sees it's at about 1/3 of that, but still an impressive milestone.....

"Whoa. Impressive indeed.  With that amount, you must just be walking around seeing everything in shades of grey and sitting there paranoid about where your next dirt nap is coming from."

Pest looks at the suit of the Spike man himself and notes "Extremely Rich."

"Let's get the Durdens flowing after the durdens have flowed.  I, myself, promise to contribute a generous 4 creddys of otherworldly currency to the cause in the name of the Pig."

The float rolls to a stop and the shackles suddenly unlock by themselves. Once again, the troll pops its head up from the trap door with his pointy stick, jabs it at Willie, and screeches "GO SAY SOMETHING!"...

Willie pulls out an old cocktail napkin from his coat pocket that seems to have "Festivus Speech" scribbled on it...

"I have a lot of problems with you people!"

A man appears next to Willie and whispers something in his ear...

"What? No? Ok."

"So, uh, I guess the reason I was kidnapped and whatnot was to commemorate a milestone in my family line. It was about 20 years ago that a young man named Sigmund got lost while flying overseas and crash landed nearby. It was the beginning of a lifestyle. Sigmund went on to have an unremarkable career (by Pig standards), but he did serve as RHM for at least 8 different Bosses during a remarkably long life. I'm not sure any other mafioso has done that."

"But, well, uh, I'm not here to give an oral biography of this family line and all the self-promoting that comes with it. I am far too humble for that".

Willie hears a number of groans come from the crowd...

"But those were great times and there have been plenty of great times since. My family journals show ancestors having crossed paths with so many amazing people, many of whom are no longer with us. It's no secret that my family journals also show ancestors having made enemies, but I hope they can keep things in perspective and remember that this is just the life we choose and there are no ill feelings towards anyone."

"I also have a long list of people I would like to thank..."

The speaker and the crowd hear a creaking noise coming from overhead. The sign, which had fallen previously, was remounted earlier in the day, but with faulty workmanship. Or was it sabotage? Willie dived out of the way with moments to spare, as the sign above crashed down and rested on the ground next to him. Stenciled across the front it said:

Hours on all characters: 30000.29

Scrolling through the pages in his book he kept turning and turning and counting using a notepad which he kept scratching out numbers and starting over. Adjusting his fancy accountant glasses a few times he suddenly closed the book and through it violently across the room towards the fireplace which was blazing with a huge fire although it was nearly summertime 

I have looked through journals and transcriptions of events and that is nearly three times the hours of my family line.

Stands up from his desk walking over and picking up the notebook again quickly to compute a few more numbers... still looking puzzled 

Hell of a milestone my friend and I am sure most people remember either working with you at some point or being killed by you! 

He threw off his accountant glasses onto the marble floor shattering them while he grabbed his pistol to get back to work to try to catch up to those hours