The roaring fifties had given way to the roaring sixties which had in turn given way to the roaring seventies. Soon enough, we were well into the roaring ninties. Then back to the roaring zero's. Soon came the roaring ten's and then the roaring twenties. And, ah yes, the ROARING thirties.
It went on like this for a while, until the roaring woke everyone up. Then after, people read the labels on everything they bought, peace ensued, and other really good stuff. No more roaring years. Yay
Jalispe dug his way out of the ground and wandered back into the office. Ordering his secretary a pot of carnations, he proceeded to skin the others alive.
The roaring forties were back! Soon everyone was skinning other people, and when that went out of fashion, the roaring fifties knew it was their time.
The roaring forties looked on jealously as everyone fell in love with the roaring fifties and their constant, loud and repetitive roaring. The roaring forties called an emergency meeting of the roaring decades and together they decided that the roaring fifties had to go. A vote was carried 12-4.
Conspiring with the roaring sixties, the roaring forties helped push the roaring fifties into obscurity. People called it the 'obscuring fifties' thereafter. The roaring sixties enjoyed their time in the roaring theater, and then gave way to the seventies, who were roarin' and ready.
It wasn't until almost the end of the roaring seventies that the cutbacks were announced. The roaring seventies took a three-year wage freeze and elimination of all medical benefits. The most humiliating part, though, was a warning to "tone it down". The roaring eighties threatened to strike, but then the eager roaring nineties murdered the roaring eighties and gladly became the yelling eighties.
When the roaring zeros found out, they roared. They took the roaring nineties turn, plus their own. They roared! Then the roaring tens thought about roaring, but the twenties, worried they wouldn't get a chance to roar, roared on through. Those twenties!
Soon enough the forties were roaring, much to the dismay of the thirties, who had replaced their drummer and changed their name to the fussing thirties. The disquiet sixties took the side of the fussin' thirties, whereas the ROARING-LOUD-AS-FUCK-ROUND-THE-CLOCK SEVENTIES took the side of the forties. Decade war broke out everywhere.
Everyone woke up again. All the roaring and obscuring and yelling and fussing and disquieting and ROARING-LOUD-AS-FUCK-ROUND-THE-CLOCKing had to come to a stop. And thus, the decade wars were put to death.