The Dropping Jaw

This is the story of The Dropping Jaw: how it was discovered, recovered, and stuffed back into its owner's face.

Part 1: A Surprising Occurrence

Joey is an Alabamian senator, and there is one rule when you are in Alabama: never shock people. They can't take it. Why, one time an Alabamian was shocked, and his jaw dropped. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Today, Joey is out campaigning for the 2010 election. He is standing behind a podiumlectern in the town square, surveying the audience of reporters and potential voters. They seem commonplace enough. One thing is out of place though: an ordinary crow. Joey lights upon it, transfixed for a second, shocked.

His jaw drops.

And drops.

And drops and drops.

Right onto the lectern, down to the floor, down the red carpet, and to the street.

[This section is, surprisingly, right what you'd expect.]

Part 2: A Panic

The crowd doesn't know what to make of it at first. They stare blankly. No one ever imagined a jaw could fall so low before.

After a while, the real implications of what has just happened dawn on them.

"The senator needs his jaw to lie to us!" one person cries.

"I was hoping to sell his jaw for bird-feeding money. Now I can't," an elderly man grumbles.

A few begin to panic. The rest catch it through conversion disorder. It's chaos. Meanwhile, the senator's lower lip gets on a bus. It drives away, the bus door closed on the senator's distended mouth.

At last, a sane person sees it and shouts, "Catch that bus!"

Part 3: A Chase

Previously, on The Dropping Jaw: "I never imagined a jaw could fall so low before." "The senator needs his jaw to lie to us!" "I saved millions with Swindle Savings!" "Wait; you've got to listen to me; look into my eyes; everything's going to be all right. Catch that bus!"

And now, the tedious conclusion.

The bus is moving at 30 MPH now. There's no way the crowd will catch it on foot. A man whom we will know as Joey II wrestles a nearby woman getting into her car away from her car.

Then he shouts, like Alabama thieves do, "Ma'am, I need to commandeer this vehicle. It's an emergency." She gives him the keys and he speeds after the bus.

On the bus, Joey's lower jaw is making sure the bus driver knows what's good for him. "Make all your regular stops, buddy, or you'll be hearing from me in Consumer Reports." Better do what he says; they have serious pull.

The car is closing fast on the bus. But then, the bus moves into a designated bus lane. No way to get to it now.

Part 4: A Talk

If you would only talk to the jaw.
While Joey II is on the chase, his brother Joey III is holding down the fort back in the square. He is staring at the fleshy rope stretching from the senator's chin across the square and down the block. His eyes travel to the hole where Joey's chin should be, where he notices the senator's unusually long tongue twitching about. He gets an idea.

Joey III asks, "Senator, you're a dextrous-tongued liar, right?"

"Uh huh."

"If your jaw can stretch inhumanly, then so can your tongue. Push it forward, senator!"

"Uh, uhhh."

"Try, senator. Try harder."

Joey's snake-like tongue shoots forward. It courses down his troughed lower jaw to the bus like water through an aqueduct.

The tongue flaps, "C'mon, jaw. I know you've been stressed out over all Joey's shameless pandering and disposable promises. It gets me too at times. You just have to hang in there. Soon the campaign will be over. Then we can rule people the way they were meant to be ruled: without regard for the consequences."

The jaw: "Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."

"Is it worth it?! Have you seen what senators make?"

"About 200,000?"

"Yeah.... Uh, let's go, and end this craziness."

"OK."

The jaw stops stretching and falls out of the bus. It has a few tire marks on it, and a few supporters of Joey's opponent leered at it, but overall it isn't the worse for wear. Joey reels it in and squeezes it up into his head so it isn't too funny looking. He makes a little perfunctory rhetoric. Then he gets into his block-long limousine and rolls off.
You gotta admit, it's pretty suspicious that his limo is big enough for, say, a really long jaw.

Aftermath

Joey promises to say he is going to pass a law abolishing floppy, accordion-like jaws. He does (say it).

In the election, he sweeps into office by a landslide. Literally. He rides a pile of rocks.