Archive for the ‘Real Life Cases’ Category

Synchronized Patriotic Pinwheel Display Ends in Tragedy

February 5, 2014 Leave a comment

By Hugh G. Pickens
Lankville Action News YES! Team
Crime Beat Reporter

File Photo

File Photo

A synchronized patriotic pinwheel display accompanied by the release of red, white and orange pigeons ended in tragedy for one Lankville man, sources are confirming.

The event, which was held at the East Island Fairgrounds and Carnival Tent Yard, was part of the celebration of the anniversary of the birth of Pirrapods the Great and was held in front of a darkened, muddy field.

Pinwheels are fun and attractive but meant DEATH for one Lankville area man.

Pinwheels are fun and attractive but meant DEATH for one Lankville area man.

“In the middle of the display, this obese local man, who we have not yet identified, simply fell over silently in his lawn chair and died,” noted Detective Gee-Temple, who was the first to respond to the scene.  “Because the fireworks had already begun, no one noticed his death,” the intrepid Gee-Temple added.

“He lay there so long , they were kicking him in the head by accident,” said event sponsor Ric Royer, who proudly noted that he has attended every pinwheel display in Lankville for the past 15 years.  “Then a wandering hog came up and just ate the shirt clean off his back.  Later on they buried him right where he lay.  They just sprinkled some sawdust over the grave, which, because of the intense rain, turned immediately into a giant puddle at which point the corpse just bobbed right up out of the ground and floated downhill where it came to rest in the parking lot of that buffet down there that also sells hats,” said Royer, who stared at this interviewer unblinkingly for nearly a minute before taking his leave.

Investigators are expected to work lightly on the case today.

Entire Room of Stuffed Animals Found in Meyer’s Last Home

January 31, 2014 1 comment

File Photo

By Bernie Keebler
Senior Staff Writer

Investigators today opened the last known official residence of missing fried plantain magnate Shane Meyer and discovered an entire room of stuffed animals according to sources following the story.

The home, a 5700-square foot mansion in Northern Lankville Heights, had been closed since last January. Meyer had been living in a gas station tire house of his own creation until a fire consumed the makeshift edifice in August of 2012.

“The house was entirely empty,” noted Detective Gee-Temple, who procured a search warrant of the property early this morning. “There was absolutely nothing to be seen– not even so much as a forgotten fork or spoon in the kitchen. And then we went upstairs.”

The stuffed animal room in Meyer's last home.

The stuffed animal room in Meyer’s last home.

Gee-Temple claims that investigators were entirely unprepared for what they discovered in the second bedroom.

“The room was choked with stuffed animals. They were just everywhere– arranged in haphazard rows, littering the floors, hanging from the ceiling. Many had pink bows tied around them or wore frilly skirts. There was an easel with some paper on it and Meyer had written “STUFFED ANIMAL LODGE” in one of those really big crayons which we found later in the corner buried under some stuffed animals. It was a grotesque spectacle,” said the shaken detective.

Gee-Temple claimed that the search yielded no answers to the Meyer mystery.

“It rattled us all to our cores and we could not understand it anymore,” added the detective. “I hope I never, ever have to go back.”

The Final Days of Shane Meyer: AN EXCLUSIVE

January 28, 2014 Leave a comment
Detective Gee-Temple in evening dress.

Detective Gee-Temple, lead investigator on the Meyer case, located the diary.

The Lankville Table-Sized Intelligencer of Things That Happen in Reality is pleased to present an exclusive glimpse at the diary of Lankville fried plantain magnate Shane Meyer– found intact amongst the rubble of his charred gas station tire house, which went up in flames in late August. Although Meyer’s body was never found, he is believed to have perished in the conflagration. WARNING: These passages may be offensive to certain readers.

8/11– Purchased some engine lead additive in a quart bottle and drank it inside the tire house. Threw up and then passed out.

8/12– Paid a hooker to blow me (inside the tire house). She had no teeth and it was not pleasurable. Later, read half of Theodore Deeker’s lesser early novel Buds of Cups, drank some antifreeze and orange juice and threw up and passed out. Woke up around 2AM and cleaned up the floor of the tire house.

8/13– Finished off the Deeker. Enjoyed it. Later, pitched it down a sewer. Purchased a copy of Jorkens’ 1872 arabesque Peeps, PEEPS! Found it tawdry and excessive. Part of the tire house fell over later in the afternoon when a drunk slammed his car into it. I challenged him to a fight with knives in the woods and won. Later, I fixed up some beer and paint thinner. Passed out.

Meyer family, 1982.  Shane is pictured second from right.

Meyer family, 1982. Shane is pictured second from right.

8/14– Pushed the Jorkens into a church mailbox. Stood outside to listen to the bells summon the morning, then urinated where I stood. Purchased a new pair of cut-offs and a copy of Danius Zubrus’ new novel Trying on Sunglasses with Girls. It’s terrible– it’s no wonder that teenagers are such assholes. I threw it into a busy intersection. I went to bed with some furniture polish and box wine.

8/15– Did not wake up today.

8/16– Stalked around the main drag, looking for a novel and some cooz. The latter was unexciting. Later, found a copy of Beeb’s 1917 war classic The Men of the Hole. Finished it off in the tire house while drinking from an old bleach container I found in the garbage. Mixed up the rest of the paint thinner and a can of malt liquor. Passed out.

8/17– Someone took the bleach container and the Beeb novel and kicked over part of the western tire wall. Repaired it, wandered over and talked to the Hindu gas station clerk. He gave me a 6-pack of small donuts. I ate the donuts, then felt aggressive for some reason. “I ain’t no charity case, bindass,” I said. I threw the wrapper at him but, it being quite light, it drifted in the air and settled on the counter. I overturned the gum display and walked out. Found a copy of Kood’s 1982 thriller The Dragon and the Mall Entrance. Found it overrated. Went to bed with some alkalies and cognac. Passed out.

8/18– Did not wake up for two straight days.

8/20– Started a small, contained fire in the tire house to keep the fruit flies out. Got too hot around noon. Apologized to the Hindu, who accepted. Still, I find myself wanting to kick his face in. Finished the Kood and took it up to a roof where I pitched it into an alley. Someone came out of the shadows immediately and ran off with it. Later, stole a copy of The Pizza Encyclopedia (3 volumes) from Mario’s. It’s very dated but read through half of the first volume. Mixed up some beer, porch stain, and concrete sealer, threw up and passed out.

During the evening or early morning of 8/20, 8/21, the tire house exploded and caught on fire. Meyer has not been seen or heard from since. His club, the Sharks disbanded shortly thereafter.

Real Life Cases of the Lankville Police Department: The Meyer Case

January 27, 2014 Leave a comment

The Lankville Cabbager is pleased to present this exclusive glimpse into the Shane Meyer case by the man who investigated it– Detective Gee Temple.

File Photo

By Detective Gee-Temple

They said there was a fire at the Theetz gas station so I joined the chief and marshal at the edge of the curb and we watched the conflagration while drinking from a mysterious thermos that periodically changed its color. The station itself was actually safe– indeed, it was a strange tire house towards the back of the lot that was engulfed in flames.

The only known photo of Meyer's gas station tire house before the fire.

The only known photo of Meyer’s gas station tire house before the fire.

“What is that tire house?” I asked. I thought that perhaps it was a promotion to sell more tires.
“That’s where Shane Meyer was living,” said the marshal. He suddenly took in an enormous gulp of air.

I could not believe it. Here was a man worth $750 million (Lankville) and the famed owner of the Meyer Fried Plantain Concern and a professional hockey club. I could not understand it.

“Why does he live in a house of tires in back of a gas station?” I asked.
No one could answer me. Finally, the fire chief offered, “he has head goblins.”
The marshal nodded, took in another enormous gulp of air and said, “yep.”

Head goblins. For a second time in as many minutes, I was simply floored.

The fire died down. I could see now that a roof of mean plywood had been attached to the top of the structure and that balloons had been tied there as decoration. They had, of course, popped during the blaze. It was difficult to see inside but to me, the interior seemed empty. I had hope that Meyer had somehow escaped.

Later that morning, I interviewed the Island clerk. He admitted that some sort of monetary arrangement had been made for Meyer to live in the back lot but that it had periodically changed. He also showed me a small closet by the restrooms and there we found an enormous cache of chemicals of all sorts. After some consideration, we dismissed Meyer as a terror-being.

There was disagreement later on a body. The chief felt that he had found Meyer’s crispy remains in one part of the tire house but the marshal demurred. “It’s up to you to break the tie,” they said. “I leaned over and entered the strange edifice. The chief showed me a crude bed that had been made (out of tires) and a little shelf that had contained toiletries. The chief pointed to what seemed to be remains. “That’s him, right?” he asked. “See, isn’t that legs?” I could not tell. But I voted with the chief.

Now, after much thought in my study, I cannot say for certain.

Further notes will continue in later issues.

Real Life Cases of the Lankville Police Department

January 10, 2014 Leave a comment

By Hugh G. Pickens
Crime Beat Reporter
Photo on 2011-06-24 at 07.51
File photo

Young Socquettes worked four months at the Island Maid Bakery before Emms left him alone.  And it was no more than mere moments after Emms’ big Neptune turned the corner and exited the square, that Young Socquettes immediately dropped his trousers and wagged his tiny, flaccid member in the direction of the line of aged housewives waiting their turn for service.

It was Duke Jipps who made the call to Detective Gee-Temple after one of the ladies, flushed and shaking, entered the soda fountain to tell her terrible tale of what had happened next door.

“By the time we arrived, this Socquettes had already locked the door and run off with the days receipts,” noted the intrepid Detective, over a plate of breakfast loaf covered in eggs.  “I called on Deputy Vechenoyer who just got out of the army you may recall.  We went immediately over to this Socquettes’ sponsor, a fellow named Craft.

When the knock came, Craft, a widower, was nearly blinded by migraine.

Detective Gee-Temple in evening dress.

Detective Gee-Temple in evening dress.

He had been sitting at a table in his spartan room, forcing his attention on a Dean T. Pibbs terrorist attack novel.  He had been staring at the same sentence for over ten minutes as though it were some sort of complex cipher, his eyes blurry with ache.  It was at the precise moment of the knock that the meaning of the sentence came to him:  “The terrorists are coming– they are coming in PODS!  

“Well, when this Craft fellow answered the door, Deputy Vechenoyer got all over his case,” stated Detective Gee-Temple, who was attempting to cut into the giant loaf with a wobbly plastic fork.  “Craft cooperated fully, he told us that Young Socquettes should be at the bakery.  We told him what Young Socquettes had done and this Craft urinated a little– you could see a sudden wet spot appear at the crotch of his yellow shorts and then he told us that this Young Socquettes liked to spend time in the weedy area behind Pineapple City.  Pineapple City, as you know, is a cult.  We’ve always been suspicious of them.”

“I knew the path that Creft [sic] was talking about,” noted Deputy Vechenoyer, who was interviewed coming out of a motel room despite the fact that he was known to own a home only a few miles away.  “Back when I was in The Camp Fire Chums, we had a Den Father who liked to lead us on hikes to that same weedy area in back of Pineapple City.  I knew I could find it again.”  A nearby phone booth was suddenly swallowed by the earth and an enormous smiling stuffed bear appeared in its place.  “Huh.  Would you look at that?” noted Deputy Vechenoyer.

Just before dusk, Gee-Temple and Vechenoyer entered the woods at the edge of town near a stretch of deserted country highway.  The path led out into a series of progressively larger clearings and the evening express could be heard distantly.  In one clearing, the officers found a recently-extinguished fire and there was a tiny green pup tent which was found to contain a box of colorless condiments, a wig,  and a pair of wet plastic tongs.  The officers decided to keep going.

It was another fifteen minutes, through thick underbrush, when the officers finally crossed the tracks and found themselves in back of Pineapple City.  There was a large fence, ringed with razor wire, all around the mysterious compound.

“We found a sewer entrance and on top of this, we believe Young Socquettes had laid a few personal items,” noted Gee-Temple.  “We found a wallet that contained some foreign money and a little orange tiger that you could open up and put things in.  But there was nothing inside the tiger.  The tiger actually broke into two because the hinges were rather, shall we say cheap.  So, we laid part of the tiger…

We asked Gee-Temple to stop talking about the tiger.

“Well, it was then that we heard it.  It came from Pineapple City.  There was a watchtower lined with windows, they were all dark but the noise was coming from there.  I haven’t a doubt in my mind.  It was a lurking, building scream.  It was damn near the most demented thing I ever heard.”

Gee-Temple paused to cry.  We kicked him in the shin and he continued.

“Well, there was this eldritch wind that came up.  It started to take away Deputy Vechenoyer but I grabbed him and held him down.  Somehow, I knew we had to face the watchtower, that we could not look away from it and I told the Deputy so.  A searchlight came on and swept over our faces.  We stared it down.  We endured the rain, the fog and that sound, that sound from hell.  And just like that it ceased.”

The officers made it back to their prowler just as the last patch of light could be seen in the west.  Young Socquettes was never found.

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