Archive
SCHROPP INVESTIGATES: Vegan Pizza
By Brian Schropp
It was a few nights ago around bedtime, I was in my ‘basement bachelor pad’ stirring up my strawberry milk nightcap when I heard whispering by the window. “Hey Bri, are you up buddy?” Of course it was none other than my former manager, now ‘pizza brother’, Scott Pizzaman.
“Sneak around the backdoor and I’ll let you in.” Scott is always real respectful when it comes to dealing with my home and parents which you, my dear readers, might find hard to believe given he is a being of total chaos. Why this is I could not tell you, I’m just glad he hasn’t drunkenly driven his car into our house like a certain other individual whose name appears frequently in this paper.
Once I was able to hustle him inside (careful not to wake my folks) and down the steps to my pad, he slammed a funky-smelling pizza box on my table. My curiosity and stomach rumbled over what lay before me, I started to lift the lid but Scott quickly slammed it back down. “Be careful Bri, it’s not what you think.” He answered my questioning gaze quickly. “Remember the rumors going around the pizza industry recently? Something that was brewing on the fringes of society, something so radical, so fucking crazy, it was going to change the life of every pizza worker in existence? Well, I think it’s here–”
I remembered these rumors well. In fact, I recalled one of Scott’s old pizza buddies who came into ‘The Round’ right before I left and the look of horror on his face and fright in his eyes. It will be something I won’t soon forget. “I have seen it” he muttered, his face sweaty and pale, “I have tasted it–“. Then the guy collapsed right there in front of everybody! Scott dragged his buddy into his office and was able to get him to come around after pouring huge amounts of vodka down his throat. The conversation they had afterward was long and tense.
I stared at the funky-smelling box in front of me before whispering “So this…this is the anti-pizza?”
Scott wiped his forehead with a well-used pizza rag and took a long swig of vodka from a hip flask. “Sure is. I forget it has some real name, begins with a ‘V’ or somethin’ like that.”
“A pizza that’s supposed to be a pizza but yet it isn’t,” I whispered before saying, “Where did you get it?”
“If you can believe this shit, some new restaurant in the Middle Northern District. You know that cleaned up area where those rich liberal types now live?. Supposed to be a group of hippie brothers or somethin’ who are running it. Hippie but for some fucking reason they look clean as a whistle. I think their last name is ‘Vegan’ or some shit like that.”
The monstrosity– the “Anti-Pizza”.
I was pretty sure this ‘type’ of pizza was called vegan not the name of the brothers but I wasn’t going to correct him. “So what are we going to do with it?”
After a dramatic pause– “Taste it, we need to know what we’re up against. That’s why I came to see you, if there was a stomach that could handle this monstrosity, it’s yours.”
“But if what they say is true–with no real cheese, no real crust, how can it–how can it–?”
“Just open the box slowly, Bri, ever so slowly–”
Of course the first thing that hits you is the smell, some rank foul odor which was a cross between rotting vegetables and a sewer. I have included a picture of this ‘pizza’ so you can witness the horror with me. The bland, unappealing color palate which hurts not only your eyes and stomach but your very soul. I did my best not to vomit immediately.
I went to get my extra sleek pizza cutter from the half-kitchenette. “No Bri, you can’t risk using your utensils. I bought a plastic cutter from the dollar store.”
It was almost impossible to cut through the so called ‘crust’ (it was like a hardened crater from a distant planet). Scott kept muttering that the crust was made from ‘dark magic.’ Somehow using more physical effort than I prefer, I had two slices ready.
We looked at the slices sitting rigid and firm on paper plates (also from the dollar store) for a long while. “They don’t even sag on the plate” Scott noted. “No grease, I guess.” It was agreed both of us were just stalling and the time had come. We each grabbed a plate and prayed for the best.
Looking back it was probably not a wise idea to down a whole slice at once. I remember the hardness of the crust almost breaking my teeth. That horrid smell enveloping my senses from the inside. The taste of the so-called toppings which had the consistency of wet slimy bread left out in a rainstorm. The ‘sauce’ which was beyond describing, the best I can do is to say it was something along the lines of using a moldy bottle of ‘Thousand Lankville Island Sauce’ mixed with a stinky egg. I was overwhelmed– my mouth became instantly dry, desperately crying out for some sweet strawberry milk. I went to grab my plastic cup on the table but was totally disoriented, I knocked the cup off the table and onto the floor. As the vile slice slid down my throat the very air around me became hot and uncomfortable. After an intense flash of light where all the colors around the room became bright and vivid, I myself joined the spilled glass on the floor.
I’m not sure how long I was down for, the noises coming from my small half bathroom must have brought me around. The cries and howling coming from Scott Pizzaman made me shutter. It was like a fierce wild wolf being made to taste dog food for the first time. The other sounds made it clear that the ingredients were not agreeing with his stomach, I cringed thinking about the mess my mom would have to clean up tomorrow. I sat up, putting the nearby plastic cup on my forehead to help me from sweating. Soon the bathroom door opened and Scott came crawling out with his pants half on. Vast stink trails raced past him and into the air. He crawled halfway to me before saying ,”Bri, Bri, I think those damn Vegan brothers are trying to poison us!”
Some time later after composing ourselves, we snuck out of the house and headed for the Northern Suburban Landfill to dispose of the rest of this ‘pizza’. We thought the landfill was the best place– it would be safely away from others. After climbing the fence (with some help from Scott) the perfect spot was found and the bonfire was soon blazing. Under the somewhat starry night the box was thrown in with a silent prayer that the fire would destroy the thing that dwelled inside. Scott and I sat for a long time around the firelight before he turned to me with what I call ‘The Scott Look’. “Bri, I really think those dudes tried to poison us. Who knows what they might try and pull next. We can’t have this so called pizza in the community destroying lives. We gotta do something.”
But what could we do against such evil? Find out next week in Pt.2 of this amazing story!!
Brian Schropp won a trophy for this report.
Scott Answers Your Pizza Questions
By Scott, Manager of the Pizza A-Round
Scott is the manager of the Pizza A’Round.
How can I make a quality pizza at home?
Dr. Nickelbee
Deep Northern Suburbs
Dear Doc,
Listen, as a pizza professional, I sure as shit don’t recommend that. No matter what kind of oven you got at home, it just ain’t going to match the stainless steel motherfucker we got at the Round. Plus, the stuff you buy from the grocery store is garbage, man– second rate. Hell, third rate. I’d get that idea out of your head, Doc.
SCOTT
Where did pizza originate?
Carlton Zupo
Lankville Standard Sand Beach
Dear Carlton,
Good question. The history of pizza is very interesting. The word “pizza” shares its origins with the word “pita” and as we all know, the pita comes from Great Puddly Island. It’s about the only thing that place has produced worth a shit. I had a couple of Puddly Islanders working at the Round back in the day– man, those two wouldn’t have been able to find their own asses if they had sleigh bells tied to them. Anyway, in the late eighteenth century, the word “pizza” was a kind of pie, cooked in olive oil by the Puddly’s in a primitive brick or stone oven. It’s unclear exactly when the pizza migrated over to Lankville but it was probably something around 1900. That’s when you started to see little carts and kiosks pop up and then, ultimately, shops like the Round.
Now, I didn’t know any of this shit– my boy Bri researched your question on his Mom’s computer. You should see this thing man– it’s tan and has this screen that’s one of those huge alien head motherfuckers. Thing weighs like fifty pounds. It’s hysterical.
SCOTT
Is pizza bad for your health?
Leonard Kings
Snowy Lake Region
Dear Leonard,
Let me ask you something. You plan on living to be 100 and shit? You want to be one of those sad motherfuckers sitting in a bed in some nursing home? You want it to take twenty minutes for you to walk ten steps?
Life’s about taking risks, man. And there ain’t no more enjoyable risk than eating pizza. So, get up out of your baby crib, man. Grab life (and pizza) by the balls.
SCOTT
Scott will continue to answer your pizza questions in further issues.
Cuisine Scribe Schropp Wins Singing Contest
By Lloyd Byas-Kirk
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Lankville Daily News cuisine writer and Pizza A’Round employee Brian Schropp has won a Deep Northern Suburbs singing contest, sources are confirming.
Brian Schropp was the winner.
“Contestants had to submit a sample video of their singing,” said contest moderator Jennie Departments. “The panel felt that [Brian’s] song was the best. We will be presenting him with his $100 gift certificate for a Vitiello Decorative Ham in the next few days.”
The panel later noted that of the sixteen submissions received, Schropp’s was the only video which was not completely lewd.
“Still, we feeled [sic] that the video showed great promise,” Departments averred.
“I was trying to express in song the workings of my advanced taste palette,” noted Schropp, who was interviewed during a short break from his shift at the Pizza A’Round. “Fortunately, the phone manager at the Round, Stephanie, was able to bring her camcorder and edit the video. I think it came out really nice.”
Schropp was asked if Stephanie was a possible love interest to which the writer and singer became visibly red-faced and embarrassed and eventually collapsed into a bush.
When Schropp was revived, he commented, “I’m sorry about that Lloyd. I…” Schropp began to giggle sheepishly and the interview was ended prematurely.
The winning video may be seen here:
BUYER BEWARE!! AN URGENT WARNING FROM BRIAN SCHROPP
Brian Schropp
Beloved Lankville Columnist Brian Schropp is not to be confused with UFOlogist Brian Schropp or ‘The Power of Tolerable’ Brian Schropp or the Brian Schropp who was trying to sell those berries or the Brian Schropp from Pineapple Town Island.
Yes my dear sweet readers, I have seen it. I still shake looking at the picture of this man on the disk cover– this “other” who happens to be named Brian Schopp but is not me. Come on folks, are you really fooled? Do you think he even looks like this handsome devil? I guess if you hold it up at an angle and squint very VERY hard he may sorta resemble me in a vague way. Personally, I think the UFOlogist Brian Schropp looks more like me than that fool. Anyways, that is not the point here– I need the readers of this paper to understand that I DID NOT PUT OUT THIS ABOMINATION OF A MUSIC PROJECT CALLED ‘A LITTLE PIZZA IN THE NIGHT’. This is a total scam by that no good EASTERN Lankville guy trying to use my name to make a few bucks. Really folks, you think I would come up with a title like that? You know the creative juices that run through this half bumpkin fueled mind– please, give me a little credit!! And the disk just sounds horrible, anyone with ANY working knowledge of the pizza business would be able to tell this dude has no clue. It’s called a ‘Pizza Eggwich’ not a ‘Egg Sandwich with Pizza Sauce’. Then you have track 5 entitled ‘That Snack Pizza Would Look Better Rubbed On Your Body’. Is that supposed to mean a ‘Mid Morning Snack Pizza’? COME ON– AT LEAST GET THE TERMINOLOGY CORRECT!!
DO NOT BUY ANYTHING FROM THIS MAN!
How an ace reporter like Bernie Keebler could be fooled by this spectacle is beyond me. I guess it just shows how good of a scam artist those Eastern Lankville lowlifes can be. So please, if you have bought this despicable piece of trash in whatever format please return it for a FULL refund. And if you bought it from that record store where Larry Klacik works, please give him some extra grief. That bed wetter should know better. I understand that all downloaded copies on a ‘Reckoner Exactra 2.0’ can be returned using the code ‘SASSYBOY22LIKES!!!{%$#}LIPSTICK’ (you may need to type it in your Reckoner a few times).
I guess in light of this whole mess I will share some news which I was hoping to keep under wraps for at least a little while longer. I, meaning yours truly the cuisine writer Brian Schropp, have actually been working on a concept pizza album!! The MUCH better name for the project- ‘Hey Buddy, Can You Spare Me A Slice?’ is truly a visionary endeavor into the world of the pizza business. As always, the ideas are coming fast and furious so this might even turn into a double album or a series of works to come out monthly!! My ultimate aim is for you the listener to understand not only the joy of eating something so cosmically wonderful as a pizza pie but also understanding the passion and hard work which goes into making it. Not any of this lovemaking nonsense– any true pizza maker doesn’t have time for that! Like any piece of art which is wayyyyy ahead of its time, my words can not do it justice. The quality of this masterpiece will speak for itself.
The true work of genius.
The following link: https://soundcloud.com/devon-fick/pizza-around-call is a little sampling to wet your appetite- please remember take into account that this is in the very early development stage.
So, please keep your ears peeled to the streets to hear about this exciting release from the REAL Brian Schropp. My hope is to at least get it out in some sort of cassette-type format very soon!!
Until next time folks, you know what to do with your mouth and mind. Happy eating!!-BRI
Greetings from Pineapple Island
By Brian Schropp
Brian Schropp is not to be confused with Lankville Daily News columnist Brian Schropp or UFOlogist Brian Schropp or ‘The Power of Tolerable’ Brian Schropp or the Brian Schropp who was trying to sell those berries.
Is it such an easy life living on one of the many Lankville Islands? Folks from the ‘main land’ have dreamed of island life as living on the beach all day, chopping up pineapples to put in a delightful fruit salad and receiving deep relaxing massages from beautiful island women in coconut bras and grass skirts. Well, actually it is all those things, who the fuck am I kidding, I live a great life.
I was abandoned as a baby on this isle, left in a giant pineapple shell for the natives to find and raise as one of their own. Now, some of you might find it wrong that from an early age I learned to manipulate these folks into thinking I was some sort of God. To wait on me hand and foot with any silly whim I may have. I see it as turning a possible dreadful situation created by neglectful parents into the finest glass of lemonade one could have. However, as of late I have found my perfect island life being disrupted by various other Brian Schropps and the chaotic beings who follow them.
The first Brian Schropp came floating in on a raft earlier this year. He must have been on that wooden makeshift monstrosity for many a month because the poor soul was out of his mind. He babbled a fantastical yarn of pizza cults, oceans made of pizza sauce, and of reality being nothing but a giant pizza oven. His tale was so crazy that it sent the natives running to their huts in fear. After giving this crazed mound of flab a few glasses of pineapple juice (he whined for strawberry milk which I didn’t have) I was able to have a more ‘normal’ conversation with the lad. He was trying to visit each and every island (which is an impossibility) to learn the true origins of pizza sauce. I told him we really didn’t enjoy ‘pizza’ per say– instead we make a pizza dough crust with nothing added expect pineapple on top. He was instantly taken aback by this and frankly became quite a bit rude about the fact we didn’t enjoy the more traditional pizza fare. Well, needless to say, I had to send him off on his raft quite quickly. If word had gotten around to the tribe that he insulted our great pineapple flatbread, he wouldn’t be living for long!!
There was another Brian Schropp who showed up on the island not long ago (not sure how he got here, my people just found him wandering in the rain forest). This one was looking to take any sort of fruit or plant life back to the mainland to sell as a sort of fake ‘cure all’ to the desperate. I didn’t like this one from the get go and had two of my finest warriors, Samu and Tonga, take this wretched soul over to our only Lankville Postal Office on the island and ship him back in a box. Now, I here there is mention of him telling folks he had chanced on some ‘magic berries’ off this island. I can assure you this is completely and utterly false. If this mountebank should ever come even close to my island again, I will send my warriors out in their war canoes and strike down the fiend with spears.
The chaotic Dr. Nickelbee creature.
I have to say the worst of the worst was one of these ‘chaotic beings’ I mentioned earlier. This one came looking for the first Brian Schropp not long after I sent him packing. And much like that one this monster came floating in on a poorly built raft. Once near shore he rolled off his raft and like a fool tried running to shore (with waves constantly knocking him down) yelling my name. Once here, my warriors had to hold the loon back as he tried to hug me.
“BRIAN-BRIAN, DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!! HAVEN’T YOU MISSED ME AT ALL?”
I told him I had no clue who he was and that sent him into a tailspin. Thrashing to and fro in the powerful grip of my warriors with his face turning an unnatural shade of red, this yob called me a lair and then attempted to spit in my face. Well, that was the worst thing he could have done; I will not stand for such behavior. Once he recovered from his tremendous beat down, I was able to get more sense out of him. Turns out his name was Dr. Nickelbee and he is some sort of therapist for this other Brian Schropp. He mumbled an ungrateful apology for trying to hug me in a case of mistaken identity. I let it go, I can see how after many months on a raft he might mistake me for this other, we have a few vague similar features.
Our short civilized conversation soon turned South again after I told him the story of ‘Pizza Sauce’ Brian Schropp and how I sent him away.
“HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO SUCH A DELICATE FRAGILE BOY?!! HE NEEDED TO BE HELD AND STROKED TENDERLY NOT THROWN HAPHAZARD TO THE TRADE WINDS!!!”
Thus started yet another yelling tirade worse than the other which ended with this ‘Doctor’ trying to spit on me again and then wetting himself. It took both Samu and Tonga to strap this demon from the mainland down to his raft and send him back out to the ocean. I hear tales from other islands that at night, once the quiet sets in, you can hear this Dr. Nickelbee screaming somewhere out in the ocean. Who knows if this is really true? All I can say is if this one tries to enter my waters again much like the ‘Berries’ Brian Schropp, he will be met with war canoes and spears.
Until next time with another story from Pineapple Town, keep your thoughts open to all the possibilities of pineapple. Warm regards- Brian
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp
Here it is folks, the second part of my exciting car ride with Ronnie La Hoyt. Can one person feel the thrill of a lifetime in a simple pizza delivery ride? Read and find out!! We left off with me struggling to resist the temptation of another man’s pizza while Ronnie was in a house with a woman named Shelly for some reason—
We’ve delivered plenty of pizzas that were missing a slice or two, I reasoned to myself. I’m sure it’s happened at some point somewhere. With all my willpower and pride gone, a slice was in my hand. A slice of Heaven!
My food haze was cruelly interrupted when a huge shiny black sixteen-wheeler advanced upon the parked car and came to a screeching halt inches away from the back bumper. Shelly’s husband, Dale, jumped out of the rig heading towards the house with all the fury of the four winds. I tried to wave to him but he paid me no mind. Yes readers, I suppose I would be just as mad if meatball sharing was going on under my roof without my knowledge.
The slice in my hand wasn’t even finished when I heard shouts and what sounded like furniture being broken. Then Ronnie came crashing through the living room window, executing one of the most stunning frontward rolls I have ever seen. With the swiftness of an alley cat he was on his feet buckling his belt and running towards the car.
“Bri, move over and start the car. For Christ’s sake start the car!!”
Did he just really say that? For a few seconds I was sorta’ stunned by the events transpiring. Then, like half bumpkin magic, the gears clicked in my head and I was in the moment. I threw the pizzas out the window and slid over to the driver’s side. I was about to start Ronnie’s car!! I have to admit a great nervousness came over me. Shaking, I turned the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered a few times but did not turn over. Channeling all my force I tried a second time with the engine roaring to life. It felt so good—I felt-so-so-ALIVE!!
Ronnie flew in through the window like some Buddhist master. “Come on, let’s go, get it into gear!!” I could now see Dale almost half way down the yard with something in his hand (I think it might have been a baseball bat).
Now dears readers, you know me, shaking as I was and under this great stress, you know fate was just setting me up to drop the ball. Instead of putting it into drive I somehow got it stuck on reverse. Pressing my foot all the way on the pedal we went crashing back into Dale’s rig.
“What the shit are you doing, Bri?!!!”
My mind was in full panic mode and I all I could do was keep pressing the pedal down to the floor, bumping the massive truck again and again. Somehow Ronnie was able to reach over and shift it to drive. With my foot still down on the pedal we lurched forward violently going from zero to sixty within seconds. The car raced ahead, coming off the curb, knocking out a mailbox, then advancing onto Dale and Shelly’s neighbor’s lawn. Ronnie was yet again able to grab the wheel making us avoid the house but with my foot braced tight still we were doing figure 8’s in the lawn (sorry again Mr. Pepperony for the damage). This whole mess ended with us speeding across the streets, taking out a few trash cans, then flipping the car over.
Yes, as you can believe, the whole post accident story is a mess. Dale, Mr. Pepperony, my folks, the lawyers, and Hell help us, Scott. Truth be told it was totally worth it for those seconds of feeling so so alive!!!
Anyhoo readers, I have babbled on enough for now. Remember to keep your mouth and mind open to new ideas. Happy eating!!-Bri
Feeling So-So Alive!
By Brian Schropp
Brian Schropp returns to the Lankville Daily News!
Yes my gentle readers, it has been awhile. Between the busy hours at ‘The Round’, my new part-time gig (mandatory by Scott) selling pizza pouches, and my recent excursion to the Lankville Islands to learn the true origins of pizza sauce, I have sadly had no time to write my famous cuisine article. The fine editors of this paper (knowing deep down inside that I have written some of the finest food pieces EVER) have left it open for me to write whenever the need ‘tickles my fancy’. And that time I am happy to say is now.
You might be wondering what an acclaimed writer like myself would write about after a long absence. A story about being on the road selling pizza pouches? Maybe a thrilling adventure in the islands which would lead into insights on the very mysterious occult beginnings of pizza sauce. Well, no sir, I have nothing of that sort. This pretty sweet tale just happened a few weeks back during an ordinary Friday night shift at ‘The Round’.
There was the usual chaos happening. The good news for me was that I was scheduled off at 10PM. You got it, no closing shift for me! Hopefully a sweet rest at home maybe watching some well-deserved scrambled porn off the Lankville cable. The bad news was no one in my family would pick me up. This does occasionally happen with the end result of me riding my scooter home. But not tonight, it was pretty dark out and I had worked a double shift making my supple legs weak and wobbly. That meant only one alternative- beg/whine to Scott for a driver to drop me off.
“Fuck Bri, we’ve got too much shit going on for me to figure out who is going closest to your house.” Scott was in the ‘command center’ next to the pizza oven doing twenty things at once. It’s truly an amazing sight to see!!
“Hey Scott, I think my deliveries are going by his place,” chimed in Ronnie LaHoyt, one of the drivers who always seems to be screwing up and then trying to get back on Scott’s good side.
Scott flashed him one of his world famous looks while Ronnie was loading his pizzas into the delivery bag. “You better not be playing me Ronnie. Make your deliveries first, then drop off Bri as fast as you can. NO FUCKING AROUND!”
‘Yeah-yeah, no worries, Scott.”
With a cool tilt of his head beckoning me forth, I was running to catch up with Ronnie as he left through the front door.
Now let me say this, I think Ronnie La Hoyt drives a pretty cool car. Some say it’s just an old outdated sports car which could could be true, I know next to nothing about cars. All I do know is it’s super fast and handles real smoothly. I feel a certain thrill when I’m riding with him. His ‘devil may care’ attitude about speeding down residential streets, the hum of the engine, the blasting of 70’s arena rock. I feel so—so—-ALIVE!!
Noted pizza delivery man Ronnie La Hoyt.
He sped into my neighborhood taking out a few super squirrels in the process. The car stopped with a sudden jolt and half parked on the curb somewhere on Crestmoor Ave. Ronnie turned the rear view mirror towards him so he could check his hair. “I’ll be back in a second Bri, just sit back and relax.”
With that he popped out of the car and headed up towards the nearest house. What’s going on? He didn’t even take the pizzas!!
The porch light turned on and a woman stepped out smiling. It took me a moment to recognize her. Shelly was her name, an attractive twenty something who’s husband, Dale, is a trucker (like Joe!!!) who is gone most of the time. There may be something wrong with Shelly’s joints since I have heard my Mom use the word ‘loose’ a lot when speaking about her with others in the neighborhood.
Both were mighty happy to see each other, smiling and laughing while going inside. I pondered for a moment what the stop was for– did she need help moving something because of her joint problem? Ms. Burgee lived a few doors down, did she receive some of her world class meatballs as a gift and was now sharing it with Ronnie (without me!!).
Looking down at the rapidly cooling delivery bag I knew a big problem was brewing. I had missed my second break at work because of the craziness and I was now very hungry. My stomach was rumbling as it took in the sweet aromas issuing forth. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes seemed like days. What was taking him so long!!? I knew I was going to buckle under the pressure.
Slowly I opened the bag and slid the first box out. From the smell alone I could tell it was one of my own creations ‘The Mid Morning Snack Pizza’. Damn, damn!! I started to put it back in but then without stopping pulled it back out quickly. Who would miss a few fries off the top? I’m sure the customer wouldn’t even notice. Before I even realized what I had done the fries were in my mouth. What a sweet relief from the hunger pains!! The relief was all too brief, the pains were back in no time only this stronger.
To be continued?
A Christmas Story by Brian Schropp
By Brian Schropp
I was lost in a mist of nacho cheese floating down a pizza sauce river to nowhere. Was I back on the raft? The hideous laughter of the Floating Pizza Baby Slice boomed around me. I curled further into my defensive ball position putting my hands over my ears. Was I having a nightmare or was this reality? I had a hard time telling the difference of late.
“Did you really think you could defeat me?” it said in its own horrific baby ga- ga voice. “I will always be here to bring about your downfall!! Take a peek through the mist Bri, you will see what I mean!”
Do I really succumb to his madness? Even if you had the will of a thousand Scott’s, sometimes in a nightmare you have no choice. Opening my eye just a fraction I saw them. Just visible through the cheese on either side of the river were row upon row of giant dancing pizza purses, moving in unison like in some twisted animation movie. The pizza purses have been the bane of my existence and anyone who works at the ‘Pizza-A-Round’s’ existence for some time now. Seeing how we were late to jump on the ball, business has been in a downward spiral especially with us only being open now on Fridays 4-9 PM, Saturdays 11-6 PM, and Sundays 2-2:30 PM. We are on the verge of bankruptcy!!
Real or imagined, the baby pizza slice still haunts me.
This, of course, has sent me into a personal spiral of self-doubt and depression since Scott had put the pressure on me to find a solution to the pizza purse matter. I had rarely failed him or the company before but since our epic struggle last month with the Floating Baby Pizza Slice I haven’t been the same man. The nightmares are getting more frequent and more intense. Things have gotten so bad that my parents have hired Dr. Nickelbee (my whacked-out therapist and failed presidential candidate under the Green Sanity Party) as my ‘live-in roommate’ in my basement apartment. Needless to say this action isn’t helping matters and that mess is whole other article.
I tried to tighten myself further into my defensive ball, trying to stop the laughter, trying to stop the visions of the dancing pizza purses, trying to stop the hurt and pain!! It was all too much– even if this was a nightmare, this twisted pizza river was carrying me to end of the line. All hope was lost. Or was it?
I felt it before anything, a little light inside telling me they were near. Then the music (always so sweet) peaking again. I was the hurricane, small at first, then becoming bigger, whirling through the nacho cheese mist. From out of this wondrous spinning ray of hope came the bumpkins. They were not in their trailer but instead on what appeared to be some badly constructed cardboard contraption which vaguely looked like a sleigh. Either small dogs or large rats were pulling them along. Some of then wore jingly bell collars.
The Floating Baby Pizza Slice ga-gaed in anger and raced up to the approaching group. It was like a cosmic game of chicken with neither side backing down from the challenge. And then, both sides collided at full force. I had seen this happen one time before and yet again there was the blinding flash which obscured my vision for a moment. When I was able to get my wits about me I was still on the raft but it had stopped floating. The purses and nacho mist were gone as well. Somehow the cardboard was now in front of me just a few feet away. It was so close I could see even see the white glittering teeth of those rat/dog things. A bumpkin got off the back of the ‘sleigh’ moving towards my huddled, quivering body. To my delight and amazement this bumpkin was the same ‘elf bumpkin’ I saw from a year ago (please see my exciting Xmas story of the previous years for details). And yes readers you need not worry, he was still dressed the same. Now by my side, he knelt down and in his light sweet voice whispered something in my ear. It was so faint I could hardly hear it—-
Every man, woman and child seems to have a pizza purse these days.
That’s when I woke up, almost hitting my head on the top part of my new bunk bed. In my sweat-drenched panic, I replayed this new dream in my mind. All the horror, seeming like it was the end, then the bumpkins—-what had the elf one said? At first I felt like it was totally lost, then again lightly and sweetly he whispered through my mind. It was the solution to this whole pizza purse problem. An idea so simple it was staring me in the face the whole damn time!!
I quickly got out of bed; I had to find Scott and fast. I knew this wasn’t going to be any easy feat, he was taking our woes very hard as well. Dr. Nickelbee heard me getting ready and hopped down from the top bunk. He wanted to have a ‘jammy time session’ to talk about my dream but I had to push him aside, there was no time for that foolishness. At the break of dawn I was on my scooter looking for Scott.
I found him in a back back alley in Downtown Lankville. After tossing the trash bags aside and the few loose women off him, I sat him up on a wooden crate to try and sober him up. I tried to relay my dream to him but he didn’t want to hear about it. “Can’t you see I’m living a nightmare of my own, Bri!!” he said through his whiskey breath with a crazy look in his eyes.
Pizza Pouches!!! Hoping this will be the ‘next big thing’.
“But it’s okay Scott, the answer has finally come. We don’t need to make edible pizza purses, we just need to make portable pizza pouches!! Dudes-and most butch women-don’t want to carry purses anyways. And if we make clear that people can show off the best looking slice they got! Well…”
I saw a gleam in his eye.
Getting him sober enough (which is about the best you can do anyways), we were at the Lankville Patent Office first thing when they opened. Well that was a few days ago and let me tell you things are already turning for the good. The first few test pouches are looking great and there is a new hot buzz going around about them!! This weekend will be the first big marker but we have high hopes. We are even going to set up a stall by the downtown Lankville cinema to hop on the hottest movie premiere of the year- ‘Star Battles In the Stars: Episode 27’. Even Big James is coming up with plans for a ‘nacho cheese pouch’ which will probably be him just taking the already existing pouch and just filling it with nacho cheese.
Well anyways, that is my slightly early Xmas time miracle this year. I hope you and yours find some of the same bumpkin magic this season!! As always, please keep your minds and mouths open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!-Bri
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp
Brian Schropp returns this week after a harrowing series of adventures.
“For Christ’s sake Brian! You gotta have something up your sleeve, it’s now or never!!” I could tell Scott was reaching his boiling point. What was I do to? Did he really think I could just summon my brilliant ideas on a whim? I sat in the slightly broken office chair like many times before, swiveling back and forth with all my might trying to shake the ideas out.
Even with being on the verge of Scott’s mighty wrath it was good to have him back managing ‘The Round’. I should be telling you the awesome story of Scott finally defeating Lizzie Starlight and The Floating Baby Pizza Cult. It’s an epic tale indeed, sweeping up not only Scott’s sister but also yours truly in the hunt for this ultimate evil (hence why you haven’t seen any articles for a few weeks). This tale took us all over the map- the back roads of Western Lankville, the deepest darkest parts of Highway 71, on a makeshift raft to the mysterious Lankville Islands, and finally to a place that wasn’t even our own, another plane of existence so to speak. It was here, in this frightening world, that the fight with the hideous Floating Pizza Baby came to it’s climatic conclusion. All three of us were pushed to our physical and mental limit during this trial with each losing a bit of our sanity yet learning a little more about life. Yes, it’s a tale worth telling but alas since we have been back a greater, more pressing issue has arisen. Something so great it has taken the pizza industry and flipped it upside down. The issue is, of course, the newest craze. Pizza purses.
It’s great to have Scott back!
Since being gone this new found fad has swept all of Lankville like none before it. Everyone who is anyone (men included!!) wouldn’t be caught dead without toting one of these cheesy creations around. Not that I need to explain this but in case you are living in some remote area, where maybe the lunch meat wallet is still ‘the in thing’, let me explain- the pizza purse is an edible handbag (coming in all shapes and sizes) which you carry around during the day much like a normal purse. The difference is, of course, once you are through with your day, you empty it and then have a delicious dinner all ready for you. There hasn’t been any time for me to do any research about who started this trend since I have been busy trying to get ‘The Pizza A-Round’ on board with this. Believe you me, if you are a seller of pizza in Lankville (and there are hundreds just in the Northern Suburbs alone) nobody is calling for the standard fair. Even our personal ‘cutting edge ideas’ like ‘The Mid-Morning Snack Pizza’ and ‘The Pizza Eggwich’ are rarely spoken of. ‘The Round’, through lack of leadership, has really dropped the ball and now looks somewhat behind the times. The only person who even attempted to keep up, ‘Big’ James, went out and bought cheap dollar store handbags and filled them with nacho cheese. Hardly a suitable alternative. ‘The Nacho Cheese Sack’ just didn’t take off and made us look even more foolish.
Delightful pizza purses!!!
So here I was with Scott trying to pick up the pieces. He took my sauce-stained piece of scrap paper (I had been jotting down ideas in a desperate hope of finding something in these scribbles and doodles). After ripping it in half I braced myself for what would be my very first ‘Scott punch’. Instead he just sat down in his nice office chair and sighed deeply.
“I know we’ve been through a lot recently. Neither of us are at 100%, especially you Bri, after those cult members kidnapped you and did all that brainwashing stuff. I remember holding you like a baby on that makeshift raft as we made our escape to the Lankville Islands. The nightmares and mental anguish you endured– well, they…are…are still enduring!! I know it’s hard but I need you to dig deep and come up with something. Maybe we are thinking too much out of the box, let’s just start with a simple pizza purse design and take it from there. Yeah, it might turn into an all night session but what choice do we got?”
My failed attempt at making ‘The Round’s’ first pizza purse
Scott was right, I was nowhere near the same tender if somewhat ‘kooky’ guy I was a few weeks ago. If I hear a baby giggle while walking down the street my mind instantly fills with dread followed by horrific visions of the Floating Baby Pizza Slice. I knew it was gut check time, I had to put all of that behind and get down to what I do best– crafting the most innovative, cutting edge, culinary ideas this place has ever seen.
‘The Round’ was closed for the night so we had no one to interrupt us. I threw myself completely into the zone, only hearing Scott’s voice as a whisper encouraging me on. I was taking his advice and keeping it simple. Just starting out with a simple pizza purse idea, nothing more. Like any good jazz improviser would tell you, get the basics down and work magic from there. Not putting too much thought into it, I was letting my creative mind guide my hands to make it happen. I was feeling good, like many of our other ‘late night sessions’ before I sensed a possible breakthrough. Sadly, after taking my result from the pizza oven the cold winds of reality hit me right smack in the face. Maybe I wasn’t the man I was before. Scott laid his head down on the counter and started to sob.
I will keep you informed readers of what we will do to try and compete in this new high stakes pizza purse industry. Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating- Bri
IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN-ANOTHER CRAZY PIZZA MORNING!!
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
The cool winds of late Fall could not keep me comfortable in the huge rainbow pizza outfit I have been wearing this week. By mid-afternoon, my body was on the verge of collapse from the constant walking up and down Fairland Ave (with NO lunch break). My face drenched in sweat with the sparkling rainbow makeup (applied before my shift) running down like tears. The interim manager, Ms. Van Palmolive Verracut, would check on me now and again screaming from her car, “you need to be magical!! Let the joy of your heart SING!!!” That was her way of telling me if I didn’t pick up my game there would be a beating with the ‘rainbow stick’ waiting for me back at ‘The Round’. So, the prancing and dancing would hit overdrive causing deep foot blistering not to mention the mental anguish of all my fellow Deep Northern Suburban neighbors seeing me act the fool.
I can now tell you, for a fact, there is nothing more embarrassing than being knocked over by the wind of a speeding vehicle and then having other motorists throw bottles and trash at you while you scramble to get up. The two days have seemed yet again like two years with my limited, Mom-controlled intake of breakfast sandwiches not helping my mental state.
So I was up early this morning, extra early, the rainbow suit got quite dirty yesterday from all the trash-throwing so a deep cleaning was in order. Plus, Ms. Van Palmolive Verracut wanted to apply a new face paint design using some super strong acrylic which would stick to my skin longer but would possibly be more toxic. “Those are the risks, Bri,” she commented.
Van Palmolive Veeracut- now gone!!!
Then, just like a few weeks ago, as I turned the corner of Lorain and Fairland, I felt the same sense of dread hit me when I saw the yellow police tape again. Everything almost played out like before expect for a few minor details. The policemen inside the front door tripped me up a little when I walked in and one muttered “rainbow pansy” which made the group snicker.
Detective Gee-Temple was still over at the prep station but this time he was building little stacks with the pepperoni. His words were still the same. “Looks like there might be an early shift in your future, Bri.” His arm went up to reveal a new set of invisible stairs. “She’s gone–”
Right on cue I mouthed the last word.
“Yup, seems like a giant bird swooped down the other night snatching Verracut while she was getting into her car. We’ve been having those problems with the big pelicans…” He trailed off strangely, then recovered. “Lloyd Byas-Kirk is out back. he’ll show ya.”
We made the same walk to the back parking lot. Lloyd was of course out there. He was leaning against the railing looking at a dirty, beat-up porn magazine which had been by the dumpsters for a few weeks. Gee-Temple and I were right upon him before he even noticed us.
My fellow reporter squinted up at the sky like he was staring into the sun even though it was a cloudy day. “Folks down the road heard her over their house around 10:30 last night. She was screaming about unicorns and pizzas, her voice got fainter and fainter as the bird took her up and then she was—–gone.”
He then motioned over to her car (which had rainbow and unicorn decals all over it).
The driver’s side door was still open which I guess was the only proof they needed.
“So no one saw the actual bird?” I asked.
Detective Gee-Temple
There was an awkward silence before Gee-Temple spoke. “Giant birds come down from the Northern Hills every once in awhile and swoop people up. It’s a shame but it happens.”
“Plus the folks down the street heard her screaming OVER the house,” Lloyd chimed in looking at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world.
“What happened to her bodyguard?”
The Detective pointed into the woods. “Footprints leading into there are more than likely his. Probably became so distraught he ran into the woods, you hear that happening when people witness a giant bird snatching another person, it just happens. Probably get eaten by hill people if he wanders too far in like that other fella.”
Officially, no one really knows what happened to the other interim manager, Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins, since a search party never went after him.
So now I sit here in the office using my portable teletype wondering if we will open ‘The Pizza A-Round’ today. I can see through the office window ‘Big’ James and Charlie ‘The Nugget Guy’ making their way across the parking lot. I guess word is spreading quickly about an absent manager and they are coming to clock in. I have no doubt the others will be here soon and we will give it a go!! As always I will keep you updated!!-Bri
The Rainbow Pizza Woes: Brian Schropp on Cuisine
By Brian Schropp
I was running late for my job which always sends me into a panic. The paper had called wanting me to do this ‘Distant Island Foods Festival’ at some dusty, beaten-down, kinda creepy looking reception hall. I know very, very little about the cuisine from those far-fabled islands (expect certain fried foods) so I was shocked ‘The News’ wanted me there. My editor assured me the whole shebang would be an easy affair with the recipe for my food presentation already prepared for me. I honestly don’t remember too much about the event, I attempted some half-hearted speech before falling off stage and into the laps of the horrified guests and representatives from the islands (I was pretty ‘light headed’ from the diet my Mom had me on). After downing a case of some of the most AMAZING strawberry milk I have ever had, I was able to rebound slightly by making a somewhat respectable ‘Distant Island Spring Loaf’ (Brock Belvedere at least seemed to enjoy it).
Thinking I did my own acceptable ‘C+’ standard I was off on my push scooter hoping no one at ‘The Round’ would be that upset. Word had leaked of yet another interim manager starting soon and after the horror show which was Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins I didn’t want to make a wrong impression. Securing my scooter with a big heavy chain and gigantic padlock to a light pole in the strip mall, I hustled as quickly as possible inside to join the craziness which should have been the early afternoon rush. The silence which greeted me inside was overwhelming, even the lights were turned off. Had my work finally sank into the bottomless pit of bankruptcy without our real boss, Scott, there?
That’s when I heard the faint humming coming from the darkened prep area behind the phone counters. I crept slowly forward bracing myself for whatever lay in the darkness.
“Hello-hello?” I called out softly.
The Rainbow Pizza that made everyone sick.
The humming stopped and in the glare of the store’s blinking unanswered phone lines, a woman’s face appeared. She was an older woman with some sort of patch or wads of newspaper covering one eye. In the glare of the phones she looked somewhat menacing. I was about to scream when she put a finger to her lips. “Shhhhh, please be very quiet, your fellow co-buddies are trying to sleep.”
She took me gently by the hand and escorted me past the phones to the prep area. And in an image which will never leave my mind, I found all my fellow ‘Pizza A-Round’ employees laying on mats taking a nap.
“Lay down and join them,” she whispered in my ear.
I looked over at all the phones (she must have turned off the ringers) which still flashed with all the holds and incoming calls. “But shouldn’t we be taking all these orders?”
She lightly patted my butt. “No Bri. If our customers want the most wonderful, magical, unicorn-dreamed, pizzas available, we must have all our co-buddies rested to create that wonder. I want you to join them and fill your nap with sweet pizzas flying over rainbows.” I had no idea what she was talking about but I liked how she was using the term ‘co-buddies’ which I had invented earlier this year.*
So I took a mat next to Chet Cameron who was secretly trying to smoke one of his foul- smelling cigarettes. “What’s going on here Chet?”
“This new interim manager has been treating us like little kids all day. Can you believe she is letting us take a nap and we’re getting paid for it?!!”
“Have we taken any orders today?”
“A few early on. We can only make this weird ‘Rainbow Pizza’ which uses all this food dye. I think customers are getting sick off it, we had a few complaints before the phones were shut down for nap time.”
Our ‘Make A Pizza Exercise’
The interim manager (whose name is Ruth Van Palmolive Veeracut, I later learned) walked up and down the napping rows lightly humming a sweet tune while chanting a stream of consciousness song dealing with ‘pizzas’ and ‘rainbows’. A few folks started to wander into the store, most looking somewhat ill and complaining about the pizza they received.
“You are disturbing nap time!!” she told them in a voice that only a lady suffering from the deepest Hell of bipolarism could muster. With the snap of her fingers a big guy wearing a ‘Pizza A-Round’ shirt (too small for his bulk) came out of the office to throw these people to the curb. He then locked the front door. I think this dude might have been a former bodyguard for President Pondicherry.
The lights gradually started to come back on, very slowly, almost as if they came on too quickly our marvelous dreams would be forgotten. “Ok everyone, UP-UP-UP!! Before we begin selling rainbow pizzas again we are first going to do a little coloring exercise to stimulate the imagination.”
‘Big’ James in particular seemed excited when the box of crayons were brought out. We were each given a sheet of paper with a black and white picture of a pizza.
“Now, you must color in and make your own fantastical pizza. Only ones which are truly magical and filled with the innocent joy of the heart will be acceptable!”
Some of my ‘co-buddies’ gave a good effort, others just a lukewarm attempt. Myself, having no idea what this lady was talking about, just attempted to draw a nice looking pepperoni pizza while staying in the lines. After everybody was finished she carefully looked over each pizza and placed them in two piles. Then she placed everyone in two groups which corresponded with the piles. I, for some reason, was left out of both groups and made to stand in the middle.
She looked at ‘Group A’ which was to her left. “Your pictures were delightful!! So filled with the early promise of a Deep Northern Spring it sends my heart in a flutter. You truly have good in your heart!”
She turned to ‘Group B’. That stern almost evil voice returned. “I really don’t know what to say about you lot. Obviously life has corrupted you in some way making your heart a foul, wretched place. The Pizza A-Round no longer requires your services, you can get out.”
Current interim manager.
This group had the likes of Chet Cameron, Charlie ‘The Nugget Guy’ and even ‘Big’ James. The last was almost in tears saying he really did his best. The group’s protest was cut short when a certain snap of the fingers happened again making the big guy reappear. My fellow brothers in arms were quickly shown the door.
While the remaining ‘co-buddies’ scrambled to get the shop back running for the evening dinner rush, Ruth came up to me. “To tell you the truth Bri, I was going to put you with the ‘B Group’.” Much like ‘Big’ James I was stunned– after all, I had stayed inside the lines!! “You just slightly, ever so slightly, managed to stay out of that group but your uninspired picture is not ‘A Group’ material. So I have the perfect position for you here…” She raised her hands and in a giddy voice said, “you will get to amaze and delight all your fellow neighbors by wearing a huge rainbow pizza outfit I ordered!!”
Now readers I ask you, how is Ruth Van Palmolive Veeracut any better than Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins? Are rainbow pizzas, which will more than likely make people sick, the answer to the turn around for the Pizza A-Round? I will of course keep you updated. As always, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!!-Bri
_____________
*-Editor’s note: see Schropp’s article of 3/18/15.
Schropp Guest Chef at Distant Island Foods Festival
By Brock Belvedere
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Lankville Daily News columnist Brian Schropp was the guest chef this weekend at the 14th Annual “Distant Island Foods Festival” held in the basement of the Casa Montecristo (an elegant reception hall).
Brian Schropp, shortly after his nervous collapse.
The festival, designed to promote the cuisine of the distant islands, drew a lusty crowd of gastronomes.
Schropp kicked off the event with a strange speech that ended with his nervous collapse. After a short nap and a case of strawberry milk, the writer felt better and made a “Distant Island Spring Loaf” to the delight of those attending.
“My Mom has been trying to get me to cut back on the breakfast sandwiches– I had only had three that morning. I think my blood sugar was just down,” Schropp explained.
The only notable criticism of the event was an obvious case of ageism against one unfortunate elderly woman who was not permitted to sit in a lobby chair for eight hours while her son handled some important business.
“Overall, I think it was a great success,” said festival co-founder Jerry Bigpupps. “Any promotion of the wonderful cuisine of the distant islands is a big giant shiny puffy gold star in my book.”
The Battle of the Bra Buffets
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Looks like there is a fierce war brewing between two local restaurateurs both using the cutting edge concept of the lunch bra buffet. It turns out there is a large, if somewhat silent, community of bra-wearing men in Deep Northern Suburban Lankville. With this area being known for its ‘hard workingman’ roots (mainly from all the factory jobs at the ‘Lankville O’s’ processing plants) there is a certain stigma associated with the ones who come out as ‘bra wearers’. To me, being of course of a more liberal, tender mind, I see no reason for this shame. These tough, rugged men are just like you and me- somewhat straight, God-fearing, Small Motel Girls Wrestling-watching lads who just happen to like the feel of a nice tender bra caressing their man boobs.
On one side of the fight you have my friend Eddie who happens to be the originator of this genius idea. You might remember him from previous ‘Schropp On Cuisine’ articles, one in particular in which I tell of his struggling restaurant and how the concept of the bra lunch buffet turned it around. It was to my shock upon a recent visit (his place was located at the ‘Double-Headed Moose Strip Mall’) that I saw how things were going downhill again. What had once seemed like a very upper middle class bra-wearing clientele was now more of a lower if not downright homeless crowd. These unkempt men showing off their unwashed torsos and secondhand bras were also making what was called a ‘hobo food bra’ in which the cup sizes were bigger so they could get more grub for the buck.
My friend Eddie, the originator of the bra buffet.
Eddie who was bringing out a huge tin foil tray of off-colored macaroni and cheese from the kitchens was not happy. “This is very bad Bri. Those hobos bras are eating into my profits. I have no other choice but to let these street men do it, the other cleaner clients are now gone.”
“Where did they go ?” I probed.
Eddie took me outside and pointed across the street. On the other side of the tracks (there are literally train tracks) is another strip mall which looks exactly like the one I was at…how I never noticed it before was beyond me. On the far right corner was a place called ‘Dan Ming’s All Day Lunch Buffet’ in glowing red neon. Under it was another smaller neon sign which read ‘Males Only’.
My bra-wearing friend shook his head. ‘Dan used to be a good friend of mine. Met him at a bra-wearers support group many years ago. Came to try my buffet and then stole the idea for his own. How could a fellow brother in a bra betray me like that?” His eyes welled up a little. “Say Bri, can you go over there and check it out? I have too much pride and I need to know what is making the more cleaner, well-off customers go over there.”
There was no reason to bring out the waterworks. I didn’t want to say it but I was actually excited about looking into another person’s concept of the bra buffet. If this place had cleaner bras and food that was not leftovers from the local food bank I might even try some. So I took my time crossing the tracks, I had forgotten that the newly reelected President Pondicherry had promised the area a ‘light rail’ if voted back in office. The problem was these trains were more like powerful steam engines than commuter trains. Plus they ran at a very frequent schedule jam packed with people– I wondered (aloud as it turned out) why it was suddenly so popular with only a quarter mile of track completed. It would take more time waiting for the trains than simply walking that distance.
Anyways, soon I was entering the establishment of ‘Dan Ming’s All Day Lunch Buffet’. What struck me at first was how clean the restaurant was compared to Eddie’s. Next the place was jammed pack with bra-wearing men. Government workers, academics, poets, philosophers, retail workers all sitting at tables enthralled in discussions while enjoying their food.
I was greeted warmly by the owner himself, Dan Ming. He knew who I was right away and was pleased to see me. “It’s a great honor to have a cuisine writer of your caliber join us. Please, let me take you over to a special booth where I will have a waiter bring over a sampling of what we offer.”
As he lead me further into the establishment, I saw he had three different buffet stations, one for hot food, one for cold, and a salad bar. All looked well-stocked and clean with plenty of lean bras at each. It was at this point I saw fellow Lankville reporter, Brock Belvedere sporting a pink lace bra at the salad bar. He seemed quite embarrassed that someone recognized him so I didn’t wave.
Dan Ming
Dan sat across from me at a small table near the kitchen. A waiter came over with a glass of strawberry milk without me even asking! Mr. Ming had sure done his homework and knew how to impress! “I hope you are not mad at me, Bri” he said. “I am not trying to put your friend Eddie out of business. I just saw the potential in what he was doing and knew I could pull it off. Take a look around you Bri, the whole bra-wearing community is out enjoying themselves.” He paused for a second. “Would you like to–you know–”
Like I said earlier in this article I am a very liberal person but the idea of wearing a bra doesn’t usually float my boat. I mean, sure, we have all had those times when you might sneak a bra out on a nice peaceful afternoon while you’re alone in your basement apartment. But out in public? It definitely wasn’t my thing.
“As you can see, I don’t really have much of a bust so my bras are pretty small which gives the customer a smaller serving size. But with the quality of food I have been charging slightly more than Eddie, $12.95 to be exact. So far it seems to be working but I don’t know if I can keep them at that price no matter how good it is. If Eddie got his act together his bigger bra size alone could spell trouble for me.”
Dan looked down at the table, deep in thought.
“Why don’t you just buy bigger bras for the customers to use?” I asked.
Dan Ming shook his head. “The one thing Eddie and I agreed upon is if you are opening an honorable lunch bra buffet in these parts, no matter how good or bad, you must only use the bras that you yourself wear. It’s a sign of honor and respect. And if anybody dared try to, well let me just tell you, there are a lot of folks tied to the mob who come in here–“.
A waiter brought over a sampling in a frilly purple number which Dan said he used to wear when he had ‘more of a nightlife’. He was exactly right, the food was spot on just as the serving size was small. After a few more minutes of conversation I decided to head back to give Eddie my thoughts. As I was leaving, Brock discreetly came up to me and asked if I could keep quiet about seeing him at Dan Ming’s. Even though he recently deleted his social media profile he didn’t want me to write anything in my article. Well Brock, for the sake of the ‘great leap forward’ I have decided to put you in this article so maybe it will be the catalyst for you to come out (at least to your mom) on this subject.
I again carefully crossed the ‘light rail tracks’ back to Eddie’s. He was upset by what I had to tell him but I pleaded with him to get somewhat better food and maybe clean up a little and now and again and you might see some success. As if right on cue, one of Eddie’s dirty customers in a large teal granny bra came over holding his stomach, his face turning the color of the mac and cheese he just ate from his other makeshift hobo bra. The man opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but vomit, off-colored mac and cheese vomit for at least two minutes. Yes, my readers, Eddie has a very uphill battle ahead of him.
Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!!-Bri
SPECIAL REPORT: Pizza Man Disappears
Brian Schropp, Special Pizza Correspondent
So, it was a very early day for me at the Pizza A-Round, I had to be there at the crack of dawn to give the signboard a good wash. “Going to be walking up and down Fairland Road all day mister,” Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins had said to me the previous night. He chuckled faintly. “Going to work that chub off you once and for all.” He thought that remark was somewhat hilarious and looked to the local jocks from the high school (he just recently hired them) for approval. “Alright boys, throw him in the dumpster. His shift is over anyways.” NOW THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR!!! I pulled myself from the trash and did the slow walk home stressing over the next morning.
Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins- where did he go?
The dawn came calling far too soon, the alarm clock buzzing portending the doom and gloom that awaited me. My Mom was concerned about all the breakfast sandwiches I was eating, “you just had a plate full last night, you can’t be eating those all the time. Plus the ‘Shop ‘N’ Bulk’ stopped carrying those huge plastic containers of strawberry milk. I think it’s time you cut back on those too.” Didn’t she understand how stressed I was over all these changes at work? She countered that being an adult was to handle these types of work situations in a mature fashion unlike the time I had the major meltdown under the main display table at ‘Pete’s Slacks Emporium’ (a job I had a LONG time ago). I told her this was much different citing me winding up in a dumpster as an example. My dad looked up from his ‘Word Jumble’ and motioned to the baseball bat by the front door. “Son. Don’t take that crap from them, take that bat with you and set them straight.” I know my dad wants me to stick up for myself more but didn’t he understand my sweet and tender nature? My mom of course thought I was ‘over- exaggerating’, she didn’t think someone as wholesome and good-looking as ‘The Bud’ would do such a thing. If she only really knew!!
OK-OK, I know, dear readers I’m getting side-tracked, you guys want the juicy details of the main story. Anyway, I was on my push scooter trying to get my head around working a full godawful day. When I turned the corner by Lorain and Fairland Road I saw all the police cars at the Pizza A-Round. I pushed harder on my scooter cutting through traffic to glide right in under all the yellow police tape wrapped around the parking lot. Inside I found a bunch of officers at the front counter shooting the shit while drinking coffee from small styrofoam cups. Calls were already coming in early for orders, the cops were picking up the phones and pretending to take them as a joke. They didn’t seem to care that I was there so I went past them and found Detective Gee Temple by the main prep station. He was absently turning a ladle around in a pizza sauce can.
“Hey there Bri, might be having a short work shift today. “Seems like your boss (here, Gee-Temple removed a piece of paper from his pocket to make sure he got the name right) Davis Huggins is gone.”
My mouth dropped open and mouthed the last word he said.
“Yup, a co-worker came in earlier this morning to find the place had not been locked up. Lights on, pizza ovens still running with pizzas on the floor, you get the picture. The back door was left wide open as well, Mr. Huggins’s big obnoxious pickup truck is back there, just no him. Footprints which I believe are his go right into the woods. So yeah, looks like he is gone.” Gee Temple waved an arm in the air like he was revealing some invisible stairs Davis Huggins had stepped onto.
We stood starring at each other for a moment without saying anything. “So Bri, Lloyd Byas-Kirk is already out back. Let’s check to see what he has to say.”
Detective Gee-Temple
Walking by even more policemen with tiny styrofoam cups we passed the cleaning sinks to the back parking lot. Huggins’s big obnoxious truck (with bull horns on the grill) stayed silent giving no statement on the events it had witnessed last night. Lloyd Byas-Kirk was by the dumpsters, he seemed enthralled by the poking of a dead rat with a stick.
“Hey there Lloyd, what do you make of all of this?” Gee-Temple asked.
Lloyd looked up with a slight vacant look in his eyes and then pointed the stick (which now had blood and guts from the rat on the tip) towards the woods. “Well the footprints match someone of his weight and height. Had to be him, just walked off in the middle of the night.”
“Think he coulda’ been blown into the woods and destroyed like that Nixon fella?” Gee-Temple asked excitedly.
“Nah, just walked off,” Byas-Kirk replied. Gee-Temple seemed disappointed.
”Yup, just walked off,” the detective finally agreed. “Was just telling Bri here all about that. The co-worker also showed me what Mr. Huggins wanted posted on the social media site last night. Just snapped under the pressure and walked off—-gone.” He waved his arm in the air again.
Lloyd turned to me. “Didn’t you say once those woods lead up to the hill country?”
I nodded– hadn’t my fellow reporter read the articles I did earlier this year about my adventures in the Northern Hill Country?
Gee-Temple shook his head. “Well, if that’s the case and he makes it all the way up there then Mr. Huggins is a goner for sure.”
Lloyd went back to poking the rat.
A few hours later all the police hubbub died down and the yellow tape was removed from the parking lot. “Are you going to try and open?” the detective asked while both of us watched the phones ringing off the hook. A very ragtag crew had showed up, it wasn’t ‘The A Crew”, that was for sure. I decided it was worth a shot, I would put on my best Scott impersonation and give it a go. Well, my readers, let me just tell you, it was hell, chaos ruled the next few hours. I can’t remember everything– much like a soldier in the heat of some terrible battle the memories all blur together. I just remember we didn’t get much right, in fact maybe not a single order. There was a lot of screaming, lots of yelling, tears and then some more.
By early afternoon something quite magical happened. With the news of Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins departure, the ‘old crew’ started to come back in like they were never fired!! ‘Big’ James, Charlie ‘The Nugget Guy’ and finally by four, Chet Cameron!! With the ‘Master of the Prep Line’ at the helm the orders finally started coming together and going out right!! By late evening word had gotten down to us from the owners that a new interim manager would be coming in the near future. But when? How would this new person be? When would Scott be back?
I will continue to keep you updated!! Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!- Bri
Clown Hamburgers
By Brian Schropp
I was hot and heavy into a mid-day trash run at the ‘Pizza A-Round.’ The newest round of management (in Scott’s absence) was cracking down on some of our ‘lackadaisical habits’ and four days worth of used pizza goods were heading to the dumpsters. It was turning into a one man job, the new manager needed all other help for the lunch rush and said I was the most expendable. This guy for some reason was really cracking the whip expecting correct addresses on phone orders, correct toppings on pizzas and even following all cleaning procedures to health code standard, EVERY TIME!!! He said that ‘once the ship was righted’ he would look into what I really do here and see how I can fit into ‘the new grand plan’ (whatever that means). Anyways, there I was dragging one over-bulging bag after another across the back parking lot hoping none would rip open causing an even greater mess. The new manager was giving me a time frame on getting this enormous task done (which was very short) PLUS expecting no follow-up clean up. So instead of hitting my normal groove (with my headphones jamming away to 102.9, the ‘kooky’ oldies station), I was sweating bullets making myself overly-anxious.
The heat of the afternoon sun started to feel like the sting of my new boss’s metaphorical whip. I stopped to wipe my brow and took a good hard look at the dumpsters– they were filling up fast. Would there be enough room in them? How would this new guy react if there were still trash bags left in the kitchen? More importantly, would he give me a lunch break after this? Would I still be able to make free food now? I didn’t pack a lunch!! I felt I was about to faint from the heat, hunger, and worry to all these unanswered questions.
Scott’s sister
The screech of tires pulling into the back parking lot brought me back to reality. Once my eyes came back into focus I saw it was Scott’s sister in a bright pink 87′ Neptune! She turned down the volume on the stereo (she was listening to 103.5 ‘The Hammer’). “Hey goofball, Scott needs your help again, get in.” She paused for a moment grabbing something from the backseat. “Put this on, Scott said you would need it.”
Without questioning her, I picked up the adorable pink kitty one piece pajama set (with footies) and put it over my work clothes. It fit like a glove. Opening the car door, I took a look behind me at the open back door of ‘The Round’. I babbled something about making the new manager upset.
“Well Scott is still officially your manager, right? Just let that a-hole know that once you’re back.”
I saw the logic in this and got into the pink Neptune which was already speeding off before my butt hit the seat.
She tapped the glove box with a half-drained whiskey bottle. Inside, I was delighted to find a plastic bottle of strawberry milk from my favorite convenience store. Twisting the cap off, I was about to take a swig when Scott’s sister leaned over to pour some whiskey in making it spill all over my now pink kitty lap. “You’re going to need this once I tell you what’s going on.”
“How crazy is this going to be?”
She took a BIG swig from the bottle before replying. “Pretty damn crazy Bri. Have you ever heard of a place called ‘Clown Hamburgers’?
“That place is real?!!”
The lore of ‘Clown Hamburgers’ is legendary. I thought the place was just a made up urban legend from some school blacktop. Located somewhere on the Western and Southern Lankville border (not far from Highway 71 where real crazy shit happens), this was the place where people who knew they are going to die or just want to die go to have their final meal. Supposedly everything on the menu is so unhealthy that it will help speed up or at times even cause instant death.
It is said the clown idea originated to help the dying have a fun and somewhat joyous final passing but over the years (probably due to being so close to Highway 71) the clowns became more twisted and demonic. I was surely stunned learning this place existed.
“Well we gotta go there because the owner may have information on this bald-headed freak lady Scott is looking for–”
“Lizzie Starlight!!!” I interrupted. I didn’t mean to but I got worked up– I went into the story on how I thought Lizzie was bald from the first time I laid eyes on the woman. Scott’s sister flashed me her version of ‘The Scott Look’ so I took the cue and let her continue.
“Scott and the dude who owns it now, Mack Milford I think is his name, a real sick twisted fuck. Well they go back a long ways, grade school and all that shit. You can say they have a history with each other, some good, most not so good. For whatever reason Mack knows some stuff which will supposedly help my bro but the shit is not willing to give it up so easily. He told Scott the only way he would share this news is if someone he knew came down and endured the ‘Six Foot Special’. This person had to be somewhat close to him but could also either live or die and it wouldn’t matter. Some sick price to pay, huh? Scott said there was no other person alive who could possibly survive that ordeal but you. Scott is in the deep, deep South fighting some cult shit so I am here to take your goofy dumb ass. So, now you know there is a real risk involved, are you up for the challenge?”
Clown Hamburgers, a place of death
Indeed a very high risk!! This ‘Six Foot Special’ was just as big of a legend as the place itself. A meal so bad, so filled with heart-clogging fat and mysterious preservatives, it could kill you after only a few bites. Did I have a chance of overcoming it? Imagine if I did, I would become legendary myself!! To me, there was only one answer and the answer was YES.
“Good.” Scott’s sister gave a slight smile. “You really didn’t have any choice in the matter.”
With the place being still a few hours away, we had plenty of ‘down time’ in the car. Pretty much after she said her peace, Scott’s sister turned the radio back up and was content drinking her whiskey along with smoking some sort of foul-smelling cigarette. Her flip phone rang incessantly but she ignored it. The scenery of the Northern Lankville super-highways passed by quickly.
After the buzz of my strawberry milk wore off, I turned down the volume for some much- needed small talk. “So, how is Grandma, and your folks?”
“Grandma sends her love.” She paused for a second before cracking up. “Just kidding, she probably doesn’t remember who the fuck you are. Daddy had a few days of acting ‘normal’ then decided he needed to be all crazy again.”
“Is he hiding a cake?”
“No, this time its Ma’s recipe for her ‘Tuna Surprise’. Shit was hitting the fan right when I was leaving but this thing for Bro’ was a more pressing matter.”
There was a long awkward silence before she spoke again. “What the fuck is that smell?”
“Oh, I think it’s my Pizza A-Round clothes.” I went on to explain how I was doing the trash run before she came and how I thought this new interim manager was being unfair about a few things. I think she lost interest quickly because she soon turned 103.5 ‘The Hammer’ back up to full blast. For the sake of my sanity she did produce another strawberry milk and with a nice touch of whiskey I was good again.
As any alcoholic will tell you, with a good buzz on, time flies quickly. Soon enough we were pulling into the parking lot of Clown’s Hamburgers. We were greeted by a pretty creepy clown named Sydney (we would soon learn he was Mack’s ‘main clown’). I will admit, I was pretty taken aback by the large axe he was carrying. Scott’s sister didn’t seem so phased, she turned the radio off and rolled down the window. “I’m Scott’s sister, where the fuck is this Mack douche.”
“Ah!” Sydney gave an evil grin while pointing his axe. “Mr. Milford is expecting you. Just drive around back to his personal residence. And please, have a very merry death!!”
“Go to hell you stupid fuck.”
Pulling around back, we found that his ‘personal residence’ was just a broken down trailer attached to the restaurant. Scott’s sister checked her guns before getting out. “Come on Bri, let’s go show this shithead who’s the boss.” I still had a good buzz on so I was strutting slightly, feeling a little like a ‘bad ass’ even though I was wearing the pink kitty pajamas (which I knew by now was her own personal joke). Sydney was slowly creeping around the corner humming a show tune with the axe over his shoulder. Scott’s sister gave off much the same confidence as her brother so I wasn’t really that afraid.
Mack Milford and family plus Sydney his ‘main clown’.
Not even knocking, she kicked open the screen door and walked right into the living room. Mack Milford was with his family enjoying a game of wall checkers.
Mack gave a warm smile. “Welcome!! Come on in!”
Scott’s sister was taken aback slightly by the cheerful greeting. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course!! Sydney and I can communicate telepathically.” He said this like it was no big deal. Sydney came in behind us still humming his show tune. The room was filled with a deep, dark presence. How did I keep ending up in these metaphysical food-related situations?
His kids started tugging on his pant leg. One asked, “Who is that big silly stinky pink kitty?”
“I think that thing is here to try the ‘Six Foot Special’ at Daddy’s restaurant. Do you think the stinky kitty could survive that?”
The kids giggled and shook their heads. Mack turned to his wife. “Get their highchairs ready dear, they will want to see this.”
Scott’s sister was trying to regain her composure. “So we got a deal, right? This goofball eats the special and you spill the beans on the bald chic.”
“How do I know this fool in the outfit is close to Scott anyway?”
“The goofball works for him at the pizza place.”
Mack squinted his eyes “Wait a sec, you’re Brian Schropp, that food writer.”
I nodded my head in pride. My name was really getting out there!!
“I love your stuff.” He turned to look at Sydney. “Guess since we have THE premier cuisine reporter on our hands we will have to double the special plus add some extra cheese and bacon to the mix.”
The main clown dropped the creepy act and became all too human. “Wait a sec—listen Mack– you can’t do that, there’s no way the kid is going to make it!!”
“Oh, I’m serious.” He gave a little wink to his kids. “I’m DEADLY serious!!” Mack and his offspring were getting a good evil giggle out of the comment. “Come on gang, there is no more time to waste!! Let’s head over to the restaurant and get this show on the road!”
Scott’s sister turned to me, shrugged, and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
How, my dear gentle readers, how was I going to make it through this?!! Well, check back for my next thrilling article for all the exciting details (and no, I’m not ‘clowning around’). Until next time my faithful, keep your mouths and minds open to new ideas, Happy Eating!!-Bri
ACCOMMODATIONS
When staying in the Area Beyond the Outlands, pick the Murray. Friendly, creative staff, delightful beds, curtains. Phone Far Outlands 5-6712.
LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS: IN BOOK FORM!
The book is gone. It will never return. We hear stories but they are likely false. We live in the woods now. We make fire with a lighter that we found in the street. It was crushed by a truck but, somehow, perhaps through some intervention that is beyond us, it still works. We are waiting. We are waiting.
Original Pondicherry Association News promotional advertisement (2009)
TONIGHT ON TV! RICHARD AND THE POSTMAN REUNION SPECIAL!
The Hit program from the 1970's returns to Lankville TV tonight on LBC!
ADULT ADVERTISEMENT
Women all over Lankville are just sitting at mammoth computers waiting to hear from men like you! Just insert a floppy disk, write a (non-sexual) message and let the sparks fly! (Computer not included).
ADVERTISEMENT
A Vitiello Decorative Ham makes a great gift. Show that you care today.
BANDED DUFFELS ON PALLETS
Assorted colors. Whatever you want to do, man. Call Lankville Falls, 3247.
BRIAN SCHROPP IN THE LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS
The most important cuisine articles ever written.
CANDY
Jipps Co. Full Service Candy Counter! Our alert girls will push gummy drops into special paper sheaths, engage in restrained pleasantries and explain chocholate-to-nougat ratios. Call Central Lankville 3614.
CAT PHOTO
In compliance with Lankville subsection 11:16-4.
CHAMBERS CO. HAND DRILLS: When Electricity is Not an Option
When electricity is not an option consider the Chambers Company hand crank drills. Perfect for use in tight spaces, on distant islands or for drilling holes in fences to see TITS. Call 4-2309.
EMPLOYMENT
Big Ed's BBQ Shack is looking for a part-time waitress. Someone who doesn't nose around and ask a lot of difficult questions. Call Lankville Rougher Area, 5-2100.
EMPLOYMENT
Nuts, Ah! is looking for an experienced nut-handler. Experience with bagging nuts also important. If you break the nut sack, the nuts will drop onto the floor. Come in person for application to Twin Removed Pines Mall. NO CALLS.
FOX FOR PARTIES
Hire the Poetry Fox for Your Child's Next Party. Reasonable rates. Writes poems, dances, will not stand for any shenanigans. Call South Lankville 2009.
The funny stories of Dick Oakes, Jr. have thrilled millions. Look for them today in The Lankville Daily News!
GELSINGER’S ALLURE CLUB
Topless, bottomless wonderland. Mysterious back rooms. Carpeted entirely in astroturf. NO CALLS.
GREBOV BROTHERS TELESCOPE COMPANY
The Grebov Brothers are Lankville's finest purveyor of telescopes for astronomy enthusiasts. Substantial 4.5" apertures and fast f/4 focal ratios provide bright, detailed views of solar system targets like the Moon and planets, as well as wide-field celestial objects like nebulas and star clusters but also TITS.
GUMP PENETRATES
Only in The Lankville Daily News
HADBAWNIK HAUNTED STAIRCASE COMPANY
The Hadbawnik Company is Lankville's #1 installer of haunted, brush-littered staircases. Friendly non-foreign staff! Call Western (Outer) Lankville, 2154 or 2198 today.
HADBAWNIK HAUNTED BRUSH PILES!
The Hadbawnik Haunted Staircase Company is now offering haunted brush piles for use on your staircase. Create eerie, supernal ambiance. Allow the brush to blow haphazardly in the wind, creates fear, foreboding. Call our friendly staff of white people at Western Lankville, 2154. Brush piles may contain other forms of yard debris.
HEY! WANT A MONKEY?
Hey! Want a live little monkey? They do cute things like climb into pumpkins. Call "The Captain"- Central Lankville Hills, 5264.
HOME DUMP Your Neighborhood Hardware Store 16 Lankville Locations!
Weekly Special: Primitive Forged Hooks. Buy 4, Get a Can of Paint. Or Maybe Not. You'll Just Have to Find Out.
INFLAMED BY STARS AND BLOOD
Lankville's Premier Science Fiction and Horror Magazine Now Appearing in The Lankville Daily News!
JOHNNY PADRES, OPTICIAN
Lankville has been relying on Dr. Johnny Padres for their optical needs since 1973. We offer a full service family eye care center and provide examinations for glasses and contacts and have a large display of designer, traditional and innovative eyewear for both regular prescription eyeglasses and sunglasses all of which will enable you to see TITS better. Call Lankville Business 2618-2.
LIFE LESSONS FUNERAL HOME
Life Lessons Funeral Home has been helping Lankville with dead people since 1932. Contact Eddie or Stummins, Lankville Business, 5-2161.
LOOK AT THESE BEAUTIES!
Really some of our best ever! Have you ever seen anything like it? Call Kelly (male) at Lankville Sound 2615.
MISSING
Missing: adult penguin. Christ, I just let him out in the yard for one minute and now he's gone. Responds to the name "Richard". Call Lankville Eastern Outlands, 5-6213.
NOW PLAYING!
The Unhinged: A New Film by Tom "Vapor" Rayford. Crisp Street Cinema, Eastern Lankville
PINEAPPLE CITY: A New Way of Being
Pineapple City is a new way of being, feeling and having your shirt off. Located in the distant, barren Lankville Pines, Pineapple City is now accepting applications for sheds. Call PINES, 2-5771.
THE PUZZLER
In the pie chart above, what segment represents a certain specific strata of the general population?
REAL ESTATE
Little shed for sale. With door, mailbox, dirt plot. Site of multiple murders but don't worry, they happened around back. To inquire, come to the shed. Go around back.
REAL ESTATE
Four acre lot in Eastern Lankville Cove Area. Price reduced! Site of a fireworks display in which several people fell out of their lawnchairs and died. Locals believe it haunted but that's crap. Call Cove 2751.
THE RECKONER EXACTRA 2.0 : A Danny Madison Product
It's Your Time: CALCULATE
SARAH SAMWAYS: CONTRIBUTING FEMALE
Exclusively in the Lankville Daily News (and some other papers).
SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT
Robin Brox will sit around and get progressively more intoxicated while listening to this other broad natter on about something. LANKVILLE REGIONAL AUDITORIUM, August 4, 11PM.
SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT CANCELED
The Dr. M. Chambers speech and candy-making event has been canceled again following Dr. Chambers' sudden collapse into some baskets. New date TBA
TRAVEL TIPS by Randy Hammers
The Kum Back Inn in the Lankville Desert Area has long been serving road-weary travelers. They feature a restaurant (with cocktails) and two spacious conference rooms. The Kum Back boasts 65 units-- each including window dressing, some chairs and a larger chair (seats two smallish children), a bed with orange comforter, a plastic trash can, clever paintings, and a windowless door. TV also available in 17 (sometimes 19) rooms. Most of the rooms are air-conditioned. Oscillating fans available upon request. Illuminated carports will protect your vehicle from the vicious sudden dust storms that often overtake the Desert Area and the wild thieves that occasionally parade across the landscape like some unmentionable horror. Call now at TU-0780 and ask for Bud or Karen (married).
UTILITY YARD SHEDS
The Lowinger Brothers offer great utility yard sheds at low prices. This one is haunted. Call Lankville Port Area 1072.
VACATION PACKAGES!
Spectacular vacations in campers by little mountains. Your cares will melt away but you will have to be careful of that shack (pictured). A lunatic lives there. Call Mercantile District 2711.
WRESTLING TONIGHT!
8PM, Southern Lankville Man-Arena. Featuring Ric "Wild Boy" Tipps (green trunks).
ZACH KEEBAUGH INVESTIGATIONS
Only in The Lankville Daily News
The Lankville Daily News 
LETTER SACK