Feelings by Dr. Kevin Thurston: Explaining the “Me Burger”
Dr. Kevin Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.
A client of mine recently expressed feelings of misery centered around his direction and life purpose and also in regards to his wife never having sex with him. I probed a little on this and the client reiterated that his wife found every conceivable excuse to avoid amorous contact. “Once, she found a small crack in the kitchen wall, way behind the stove and stayed up fretting over it until finally, I just gave up,” he commented.
“You are sexually-starved,” I noted. I wrote the term on a chalkboard and we stared at it for awhile. “That’s a nice chalkboard,” he said. So, I sold it to him for $29.99, including three colors of chalk.
Then, I switched directions. “You may not be able to ever get your wife to have sex with you,” I stated. It was harsh but he needed to hear that. “However, what you can do is to have a ME-BURGER.” I was going to write the term on the chalkboard but we had already taken it down and loaded it into the client’s car.
I proceeded to explain the concept of the Me-Burger.
“Make things completely about yourself. Tell your wife that you need some time to focus on “the Me”. Begin wearing smaller t-shirts on the weekends. In the evenings, curl up into a gently-rolling ball in a corner and quietly whisper me me me me me over and over again. You’ll feel the peace wash over you.”
Then, I sold him a little mat he could use for the rolling. $11.99. Good deal.
In two weeks, the client has undergone an amazing transformation. He walks around now with a confident, semi-permanent smile. While waiting for our appointment, he completely took control of my waiting area and rearranged it utilizing Eastern theories of decoration. During our session, he screamed suddenly at me three times.
All because he had a little bite of the Me-Burger.
Horoscopes with Sheeba Incaviglia
SAGITTARIAN (Nov 22/Dec 21)— In our society, we have had some real problems dealing with all these mysterious issues that have come up in the past. Try to speculate on which of these issues might be best discussed in a restrained manner with some people that you’re having lunch with. Tape-record the dialogue that ensues.
CANDY CORNS (Dec 22/Jan 19)—This is the week to invite a friend or co-worker to lunch. Make sure you offer to drive. Take them to a filthy inner-city chicken restaurant. Buy an enormous bucket of chicken and twelve biscuits. Leave before they can even order so that they are forced to follow you. Drive them to an abandoned urban park and sit at a picnic table. Take your sweet time laying out all the food. Become haughty when they complain.
AQUARIUMS (Jan 20/Feb 18)—Find an enormous blinking digital clock with offensively bright white lights. Hang it in your cubicle. Say “I’m a time aesthete” over and over again and laugh wildly.
PISCES (Feb 19/Mar 20)—This may be the month to embrace the odd and unusual. Do not shy away from conversation with a man sitting on a gigantic folded piece of foam in a graveyard. There could be a windfall at the end of it.
ARIES (Mar 21/Apr 20)—You always found the cliche “cleanliness is godliness” rather corny. Nevertheless, there are an awful lot of old tires in your front yard. It may be time.
TAUTUS (Apr 21/May 21)—You have always thought of yourself as having impeccable taste but it may be time to admit that you actually like inflatable furniture. After all, what other furniture can be deflated, shoved into a knapsack, transported to a carpeted basement recreation room and re-inflated. This is the week to mull these things over.
GEMINUS (May 22/Jun 21)—Beware of excess this week. The purchase of an oversized soda with a flimsy lid will lead to disaster. You will spill the entire soda all over yourself and you will begin sobbing in front of a large number of people you were hoping to impress. The sobbing will lead to a piercing half-cry/half-scream and you will have to be removed from the premises. Go with only light bottled drinks this week.
CANCERS (Jun 22/July 22)—You’ll be talking to a friend on a street corner and a man will appear on the opposite corner holding up a sign that says “YOU WILL DRAIN MY NADS.” You are appalled at first but also secretly intrigued. If you can get past his habit of holding up lewd signs, you may find a soulmate.
LEO (July 23/Aug 23)- It’s always good to plan ahead but hold off on buying that wicker sectional with all the ottomans. The ottomans will be completely destroyed by a pack of wild dogs. You won’t be able to have them repaired. No one repairs wicker ottomans that have been torn apart by wild dogs.
VIRGO (Aug 24/Sept 22)- An estranged relative will come back into your life this week. She will want to sit outside on a sectional with some ottomans which is why it’s not a good idea to buy that sectional because then she would be attacked by wild dogs, as illustrated above. Virgo and Leo are aligned this week.
LIBIS (Sept 23/Oct 23)—Get involved in a project this week. Volunteer to stand outside a grocery store or help clean-up an unsafe, drug-ravaged, derelict neighborhood. You’ll make a difference.
SCORPIONS (Oct 24/Nov 21)—No good news for Scorpions this week. Everything will fall apart or fold in on itself. Machines will break at your touch, blankets will deteriorate as they try desperately to envelop you. There will be no warmth and it will seem like an epoch before there is light again. You’re just going to have to take it. No lucky numbers this week although try 12. You never know.
Getting Home After the Holidays: Travel Tips from Your Lankville S.W.A.T. Team
HOLIDAY NEWS YOU CAN USE
Traveling during the holidays can be a stressful experience. Weather delays, crowded airports, corpses, stale cookies, horribly misshaped gourds that won’t fit into the overhead bins – we’ve all been there. Thankfully, the Lankville S.W.A.T. Team has put together a handy list of suggestions to make that journey home from Aunt Ethel’s in the Lankville Outer Flats a little easier on body and soul.
1) Screaming infants can be a real nuisance, especially if you’re stuck across the aisle from them on a five-hour flight. But did you ever think of the parents? The harassed-looking mother wearing a permanent scowl, the flustered dad on the point of angry tears? Well, most likely, they’re assholes, too. The child has to get that horrible behavior from somewhere, right? So instead of shouting at, threatening, or shaking the infant up and down by its ankles, consider some well-placed anger directed at the parents of this vicious animal. Start with a silent glare, and gradually escalate things to heavy sighing and hand gestures. If that elicits no more than an exasperated look or an apologetic shrug, try tearing your cocktail napkin into little balls and throwing them at the baby and its parents. The important thing is to show them that you can be just as immature and inconsiderate as the little bastard they’re raising. Even if it’s not immediately effective, such antics will take your mind off the infant and entertain the other passengers.
2) Tired of getting stuck in airport security? Impatient with TSA workers who insist on looking through your things for contraband? Well, here’s an easy solution that Lankville S.W.A.T. Team members like to use when they’re flying: slip a handgun or a little plastic baggie (or “dimebag”) of narcotics into the carry-on luggage of the person standing just in front of you. You are guaranteed to move swiftly through the security line as agents converge on the unsuspecting traveler, and get a good laugh out of the process while you’re at it.
3) In today’s high-tech world, identity theft is always a concern, especially amidst the hustle and bustle of holiday traveling. Cousin Sal can easily have her credit card information swiped and transform into Uncle Hal, wreaking havoc in a tri-state crime spree. The best way to combat that possibility is to always travel under an assumed name, with corroborating false documents. The Lankville Copy Emporium can help you with all of your identity documentation needs. Once you have secured a new passport and other items, you must be prepared to answer questions about them as you move through travel checkpoints. Criminals often exhibit an overly calm and confident demeanor when challenged, so our Team recommends behaving in a nervous, anxious manner in response to questions. When asked if Paul Butterschmidt is your real name, for example, pause at least thirty seconds before responding. Blink rhythmically. It adds to the verisimilitude if you can generate a clammy sweat on the backs of your hands, which you then wipe on your overcoat. Hold your breath, then let it out by popping your cheeks with your fingers.
We hope these tips help you enjoy a safe and happy holiday travel season!
Area People Generally Hesitant to Use Special Christmas Hand Towels
A Zach Keebaugh Report
On Christmas Eve, Mrs. Linda Caldors put out some special holiday-themed hand towels in the bathroom of her three bedroom home in the Eastern Lankville Flat Plain Area. “I bring them out just for the holidays,” Mrs. Caldors explained when I showed up on her doorstep at 2AM last night (I prefer working late at night). “The thing is- I feel like people are hesitant to use them. I want them to be used.”
“Where’s your husband?” I asked suddenly. I wanted to get his thoughts on the matter but I was also trying to gauge the general situation.
“He’s away, tending to some mats.” She got a faraway look in her eye. “He sells tumbling mats.”
I moved it back to the towels. “Show them to me,” I said. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”
I followed her upstairs. The staircase was steep and it was a pretty good view. She was nattering on about distinctly noticing several guests with wet marks on their pants. “They didn’t want to use the towels, I could tell,” she remarked.
We entered the bathroom and there they were. Crisp, clean Santa towels. Yeah, sure, nobody’d used them. Who would?
She pointed out the window. “Have you seen the waving fields of alfalfa out back?” she said eerily.
“Wash your hands,” she said suddenly.
I did as I was told. And I found that I too could not use the Santa towels. My hands dripped onto the floor.
And then we were in the spartan bedroom. “I don’t believe in adorning walls with art,” she noted as she dropped her house dress to the floor. “My husband would very much like to bring some of the mats home but…” She trailed off.
I stood before her. I could think of little to say. Did I have enough for a story here? Would I have to track down some of her Christmas visitors– ask them why they had avoided the special hand towels too?
I noticed then that her panties had little bears on them. Little bears with balloons. I suddenly became aware of the swaying alfalfa. It seemed louder. A light passed by somewhere.
“I slept with faith,” she said, looking far beyond me. “And I awoke with a corpse in my arms the next morning.”
“Fuck that shit,” I said suddenly. “Take off those bear panties.”
I had my way with her.
I left her house a few hours later with some tumbling mats from the basement.
The special Christmas hand towels remained.
Why is Santa Wearing Jeans? by Sarah Samways
A Selection from Our Heavy Bursting Christmas Mail Sack
Well, it’s the day after Christmas and our editor’s office has been flooded with letters from you, our loyal readers. These range in topic from “How long do I cook the Decorative Ham?” to “How much tinsel is too much tinsel?” and “What polish should I use to clean my new aluminum baseball bat?” THESE ARE ALL VERY IMPORTANT QUESTIONS LANKVILLE AND WE LOVE YOU FOR IT. But there was one letter from a little girl that was particularly heartwarming:
Dear Lankville Daily News,
Why is Santa wearing jeans? Why does he sometimes smoke cigarettes and wear aviator sunglasses, even at nighttime? Why does he call the school librarian ‘Mama’? I really don’t think that’s his mama.
Merry Xmas,
Veronica
Mr. Fick of Fick Industries (who drew the short straw this year and was placed in charge of incoming mail) was touched by this letter and wanted to respond but is totally overloaded with all the other letters from Lankvillians so I was asked to handle it.
So, yes Veronica there is a Santa Claus and sometimes he does wear jeans. Sometimes he does smoke cigarettes and wear aviator sunglasses, even at nighttime. Sometimes he has a thick, white beard and sometimes he has five o’clock shadow and red eyes (to match his suit, of course). Sometimes he brings a sack of gifts and sometimes he’s just a really great listener. Sometimes he’s got a jelly belly and sometimes he’s quite thin. Now, this may get a little confusing for you but not to worry, because Santa, just like the holiday season itself, is magical!
Santa can change his appearance at whim because he’s full of magic! He’s very old and occasionally wants a new look but he’s still the same guy at heart! Santa is also human so we have to forgive his flaws too. The whole smoking thing isn’t great but sometimes he doesn’t know how to handle stress in any other way. He’s a guy that gives and gives and gives and all he gets is a few cookies and a glass of milk and well, that can get to a guy. So this Christmas, lay out a pack of nicotine gum and tell Santa that you’re rooting for him, thank him for all he does and then promptly leave the room.
I hope that answers your questions, Veronica! Merry Christmas, Lankville!
Joy,
Sarah
(Contributing Female)
OPINION: I’ve Been Punched in the Mouth at a Candlelit Child’s Christmas Eve Pageant Before, I’ll Be Punched in the Mouth at a Candlelit Child’s Christmas Eve Pageant Again
Seasonal Opinions
This is a message for that joker that punched me in the mouth at a candlelit Christmas Eve pageant last night. Guess what, asshole? Been punched at one before, I’ll be punched at one again.
My niece was playing one of the animals from the first Christmas at some auditorium, so I went along. Got a chair right near the front in the middle aisle and I laid my coat over the back and then popped off my knitted sweater and draped that over a couple more chairs, one for my sister and her husband. Then, I ducked out back in the parking lot for a cigarette.
I come back and you wouldn’t believe it. My coat is thrown off to one side and this horse’s ass is sitting in my seat. So, I go up to him and I’m like WHOAAAAA BUDDY! THESE SEATS ARE SPOKEN FOR! This guy, he starts arguing with me about the coat and the sweater not being no “reserved” sign and I say YOU BETTER STEP OFF MAN, BETTER STEP OFF and my sister starts crying and pulling at my arm cause all the kids are starting to come onstage in their donkey outfits or whatever and some dude is walking around lighting these candles that was set up everywhere.
“We better take this one outside,” this clown says. GLADLY I say, and we start out a side exit. I turn around and BAM. I take it right in the mouth. I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in some sand. Must’ve been a playground or something. I could hear singing coming through the windows of the candlelit auditorium. I tasted blood.
So, just so this motherlovin’ asshead knows it– you ain’t the first, pal. I’ve been punched in the mouth at a candlelit child’s Christmas Eve pageant before, I’ll be punched in the mouth at a candelit child’s Christmas Eve pageant again.
Cathedral Bells Haunt, Taunt Local Residents
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Have you ever woken up from a nap feeling like a tune was playing in your head that you can’t quite remember? Have you emerged from a peaceful session at the Sanduny Sauna Spa with a song in your heart that somehow eludes identification, even as you continue humming it off and on throughout the day, straining to guess what it’s called?
That’s the sensation experienced by many residents of Old Lankville who live in the shadows of the town cathedral on Pondicherry Square. The cathedral, an exact replica of the famous pilgrimage destination in Lanque-Ville-sur-Lac, Lankville’s sister city in a nearby foreign area, features a bell tower that tolls out a different tune at precise 23-minute intervals. Residents, many of whom have lived in Old Lankville for generations, set their schedules by it.
The unusual chiming interval hearkens back to the tradition of a “de profundis bell” that would ring every twenty-three minutes in Lanque-Ville-sur-Lac throughout the Middle Ages. “De profundis” is a foreign phrase that means “out of the depths of despair.” Upon hearing the bell, the poor denizens of Lanque-Ville-sur-Lac would stop what they were doing, kneel, and loudly curse their miserable fate to God or whoever else happened to be passing nearby, often while pummeling themselves in the kidneys.
To modern Lankville residents, the sound of the cathedral bells filling the air is as natural as the thought of the single-serve plastic utensil dispenser at Barlow Foods. But many have noticed a disturbing pattern in the tunes the bell tower rings out.
“The tune at 12:47pm… it’s almost like a song I know by Persons of Interest,” says Deejay Humphrey as he hums an upbeat number, tapping his saddlebag to keep time. Humphrey, longtime music stylist for Casa Montecristo (an elegant reception hall), finds that the cathedral bells often remind him of songs by obscure local bands from the 1980s. “Right about 3:17 every day, there’s a song I’d swear is by the Burburries,” he says. Another, a sort of postmodern number with a pentatonic scale that plays at 11:13am, reminds him of avant-garde trio Or or OR.
“It’s hauntingly familiar,” he says, a thoughtful expression wrinkling his brow. “Even the phrase ‘hauntingly familiar’ is… hauntingly familiar.”
“Dammit.”
Resident Genevieve Rumpus (no relation to reporter Ida Rumpus), meanwhile, finds herself humming tunes by country-rock balladeers the Hickies after hearing the bells on her way home from work. “It’s kind of annoying, really,” she says, especially since she has fashioned a playlist for her commute that includes contemporary light-jazz fare such as Will You Please Stop Talking and Hold Harmless.
Decorative Ham mogul Chris Vitiello has gone so far as to demand, at town council meetings, that the cathedral bells be silenced. He reports recently being “taunted” by a tune that called to mind a song by his own college band, the Muffed Punts.
“How is that fair?” he asks. “I just want to get on with my life and make the best Decorative Hams that money can buy,” yet the bells keep playing their not-quite-exact replicas of familiar songs. Vitiello also proposed shortening the cathedral tower by about twenty feet, as he feels the old church constantly thrusts itself into the sky with a haughty air.
“They should also be whipped mercilessly,” the executive added.
But Vitiello’s impassioned plea did not meet with favor at Old Lankville’s town council meeting.
“Look, it’s tradition,” observes historian Glenn Ogilvie from his office at the University of Southern Lankville. “We may not kneel in Pondicherry Square and scream obscenities like they used to in the old country,” he says – adding that one tune reminds him of an anthem by forgotten indie-rock band the Tumescents – “but the least we can do is put up with a bit of razzing from our cathedral bells a few dozen times a day.”
OPINION: I Got Something You Can Check Twice
Outstanding, Informative Opinions
Hey, Lankville. If you’re still making out your Christmas lists, I got something you can check twice.
Know what I’m saying?
I been both naughty and nice, in case you’re wondering. And I don’t just come to town once a year. Know what I’m saying?
And you sure as hell ain’t gonna’ be pouting over this thing– this thing that I said you could check twice earlier in my article. Nope, I think you’re gonna’ be real pleased with it. Might want to even put it on that list.
Yep, I’d say you better watch out about this thing.
Know what I’m saying?
Better watch out so you can check it twice.
The Lankville Daily News would like to apologize for the preceding article. It is not our policy to publish lewd articles.
Madison to Introduce Unspaced Phrase Prefixes
AN ELECTRONICS CRANNY: QUICK HIT!
12-year old inventor Danny Madison will introduce his latest creation today at an Electronics Cranny Christmas gathering in downtown Lankville.
“Unspaced phrase prefixes,” said the wunderkind at a press conference yesterday. “They are a type of metastat tag allowing for faster electronic searches or “quests” as I like to call them. The unspaced phrase will have a label prefix which I’m putting finishing touches on today. Probably a smiley face or a pizza, something familiar and recognizable.”
Madison claims that the prefix will allow for the grouping of similarly tagged messages.
“Imagine a set of encyclopedias but instead of the information therein being about history, geography, anthropology– all the things that make up our existence, the set of encyclopedias would all be about, say, pizza. That is the power of these unspaced phrase prefixes.”
Madison pointed at a pizza on his workbench by means of illustrating his assertion.
The boy genius, whose handheld computational device “The Reckoner” has sold over a billion units in the past month, will be spending the holidays with his family.
“It will be a time of relaxation and candy but hopefully I’ll have time to knock out a few new inventions,” he noted.
LUXURY: Sanduny Sauna Spa by Eric Gelsinger
Eric Gelsinger is Lankville’s premier authority on luxury spas.
Don’t tell anyone I told you, but Sanduny Sauna Spa may be Lankville’s best kept secret. Here and only here can you can get pampered the way you deserve providing you keep your pretty mouth shut.
Your journey to perfect peace begins when you confront the gray, squat, soot-stained structure of Great Clips Business Plaza and squeeze through the service alley behind El Arroyo Bank of Del Lankville to follow the thin strip of dead grass round the back.
Discarded boxes of Eastern Lankville beauty products pop beneath your feet as you approach the pointed black iron fence, and calm descends upon you. Of course you’ve heard that two out of three people who enter Sanduny Sauna Spa never “come out,” of course you’ve heard it’s best to stay away if you wear jewelry or have a new haircut, but these thoughts only deepen the relaxation taking hold of your tense, overworked body.
You trip over some roots, twigs snap, a tire rolls, and the entrance rears into view. You glance to the side and think: Hail Peter Paul Joseph & Mary if that’s the furniture they’re throwing away into the muddy snow behind a chain-link fence, imagine the furniture inside!
And imagine you must, because once you enter you’re not going to be hearing a peep out of your five senses again. No amount of stress can withstand the bliss that presses relentlessly down with every application of peppermint oil and textured mud. Before you know it, your worries are obliterated, your beliefs negated, and your marriage is revealed to be an irrelevant tribal relic. The relaxation you deserve at last entombs you in lavender and eucalyptus scented mind-melting heat and steam and annihilates the barrier between waking and dream, reality and fantasy, machine and vegetable. Up and down and future and past all collapse. You lose control of your bowels. In a passion of glossolalia you shout out your social security number, ATM password, and credit card info. A tattooed man in black latex takes your hand and leads you to a table. Nothing is as it was or will be ever again.
When you’re done, a wheat-grass shot is a must, and if no one’s looking, why not a smoothie? Tell ‘em throw in every goddam fruit on god’s green earth. Remember: you earned it.
I Want to Tell You About How My New Boyfriend Just Got a Guitar
I want to tell you SO MUCH about how my new boyfriend just got a guitar!
I couldn’t believe it when he told me. “I bought it to write songs for you, Ash,” he said. I JUST ABOUT DIED. Now, he brings it with him wherever we go. We went to the mall the other day and he just suddenly sat down by the fountain and started playing. “Every song I write is going to have your name in it, Ash,” he said that day. I was so nervous and shaky that part of this giant cookie I bought from the food court kind of folded over on itself and fell into the fountain. We are so in love!
We were making out the other night and he suddenly stopped and put his finger up. “Wait right here, Ash,” he said. He brought the guitar into the room and started plucking some of the strings. “Sorry, Ash, I just got inspired. Inspired by your kisses.” I couldn’t believe it. We just have so much in common.
“You ever think about just, you know, renting a van?” he said last night. He strummed a chord for effect. “Yeah,” I said even though I had never previously thought of renting a van. “You know, just taking that van and going to Western Lankville?” he said. “Um hmm,” I replied even though I had never previously thought of Western Lankville. “We’re gonna’ do that, Ash,” my new boyfriend said. “Mark my words, we’ll just ride off one day,” he added.
We are so in love.
A DIY Christmas by Sarah Samways
The holidays are here and they’re here to stay on your couch for a couple of days until things get better with the ol’ ball and chain. Did November kind of fly by and leave you hanging? You haven’t bought any gifts yet?! Not to worry! Here, I’ve provided some simple solutions for the last minute shopper on a shoestring budget.
TECHNOLOGY
Sure, everybody wants a “Reckoner”– who wouldn’t? But in lieu of the latest gizmos and gadgets which are great but expensive, show that special someone how much you care with the gift that keeps on giving: a package of used AAA batteries. Tell them “…it’s an investment that will grow over time.” They will wither with anticipation for Christmases to come. Be sure to include a homemade card! Wrap with festive newspaper and decorative hairbands.
JEWELRY
So, you saw your sweetie eyeing that sparkly choker in the shop window…But it’s a little out of your price range. I’ve got you covered! Macaroni necklaces are always in style! If you’re feeling especially creative, use some tri-color rotini for a bold statement carcanet. If you perhaps follow a gluten-free lifestyle, skip the pasta necklaces and go for a more modern look with silver paperclips. Soda pop tabs are also an option. Really, the sky’s the limit!
TRAVEL
Do you and your loved one need to get out of Dodge (and fast)? Get out of that negative head space and into a destination unknown! Lankville City, the Great Mystery Savannah, the Lankville Big Mountains – these are all fabulous getaways, but they’re not for you. You broke bitch. Never fear, there’s nothing a little construction paper and glitter can’t fix! Make collages, or vision boards, as you might call them if you’re from out of town, using magazine clippings, pretty buttons, and crayons. Tape them above your bed and invite your loved one to join you in “paradise.” It’s sure to be the gift that keeps on giving!
Do you have a bunch of children tugging at the hem of your apron, begging you for toys they’ve seen on the television? They’re good kids and you want them to be happy but there’s no way in hell that they’re getting that newfangled Eskimo Kiss Wally with opposable thumbs. It’s not in the budget and you already gave away your AAA batteries. Maybe next year! But just so the little kiddos don’t get too upset, improvise! Sock puppets are the natural choice but feel free to think outside of the bun – anything can be your littlun’s new friend! A rock collection in an old tissue box, leftover gourds, squeaky dog chews, an apple with googly eyes glued on it…Your kids will love them all!
Be sure to leave any questions/concerns in the comments section below and let me know how this works out for you. Happy Holidays, Lankville!
Joy,
Sarah
A Christmas Tale by Brian Schropp
The hustle and bustle of the holiday shopping season was going on all around me. My folks dropped me off in downtown Lankville with twenty bucks and talk of me getting gifts for my siblings (I was recently relieved of my part time job at “Pete’s Slacks Emporium” for not “making sales” so I had no money). The first thing I did was buy some pizza fries because my stomach was rumbling–that brought down the holiday gift money to $14.60. Unsure of what my siblings would want and pretty certain they wouldn’t get me ANYTHING, I lightly perused the various knick knacks in the gift shop windows and the various wares of the street pitches with little success. I became distracted by a billboard which was introducing a new frozen breakfast sandwich. Their promise of having the ultimate in breakfast sandwiches left me a little excited but highly skeptical since I had never heard of the company. I took out my “reporter’s notepad” to write down their name. It was a few moments after putting my notepad away that I realized my wallet was gone!! I got so wrapped up in the billboard I left myself open to simple petty theft (extremely common in Lankville, as we all know).
I looked around to see if I could spot anybody who might look suspicious. There were just too many people walking in their quickened holiday pace, bumping into me, not noticing I needed help. Luckily one gentlemen noticed my troubles and stopped. “Say there you look quite upset. Is something wrong?”
“My–my wallet was stolen, taken from me in a flash!! My Lankville scooter license, my coupons for all the various food buffets and my holiday gift money, all gone!!”
The gentleman shook his head in disgust. “Yup, that’s life in the big city for you. You gotta’ watch out for pickpockets and challengers. Say, I have some cash on me– maybe if you had something to sell me?”
I turned out my pockets. I had nothing.
“How about those shoes? They look kinda nice, say I will give you a sweet twenty dollar bill for them?”
I thought about it for a moment. Sure, these were new high tops my mom got me but that twenty would bring me back up to my original amount. It would be like having those pizza fries for free!! I took them off and we made the exchange. After a handshake and a few more holiday pleasantries he was gone.
Sure, these were new high tops my mom got me but that twenty would bring me back up to my original amount. It would be like having those pizza fries for free!!
I was shaken up by this whole pickpocket affair and quickly came up with a simple plan, find some gifts and then wait at the pick up spot for my folks. A few doors down I found a store that sold relatively cheap but bright and sparkling jewelry plus a few other plastic odds and ends. I knew this was the place and went in. The woman cashier sourly informed me that I needed shoes to shop. I told her I would be really quick so I grabbed a handful of bright dazzling bead necklaces and a few plastic toys that looked retro. The total came to slightly under twenty and I handed her my bill. She took out a marker and swiped it across the note. “Sir, this bill is counterfeit.” I tried to tell her I just got it from a nice gentleman and it couldn’t be so. She showed me the black mark it left on the bill and also pointed out that the image of President Pondicherry was hand-drawn (and poorly!) and told me that unless I had real money I had to leave the store.
My options were limited. I was back out walking up the street. A few blocks later my feet were getting cold but it was bearable. I stopped at a corner and again became distracted by a small flyer on a lamp pole. It was about a new buffet in the area but the print was really small so I had to lean in close. I didn’t notice the horde of shoppers crossing the street from a light change and after a few heavy bumps my glasses fell off!! The people didn’t seem to notice (being in their own holiday world) and when I was finally able to pick them up, my glasses were crushed.
Now, I am not totally blind without my glasses but it does make for quite the hardship. I tried to retrace my steps to get to where my designated pick up spot was but got lost in the maze of downtown. I was soon overwhelmed and a slight panic attack was setting in. A seemingly kind lady came up to me with a concerned look. I explained all that had happened to me. “You seem in a bad spot kid. If you had a few dollars it could mean all the difference in getting out of here and safely back home.” I agreed with her.
“Now if you only had something you could sell me.”
I told the woman that I wasn’t going to fall for that scam again. She pulled out five one dollar bills.
“You can’t counterfeit dollar bills, only large bills. Have you ever seen anyone try counterfeiting with a one or five, it’d be senseless. It’s always with a twenty or fifty.” I saw her logic in this.
“If you want to give me your socks, your pants and that notepad in your shirt pocket you can have this money.”
“Can’t you just give me the money in the spirit of Christmas or something along those lines?” She shook her head and told me you could never have something for nothing. “This is Lankville,” she pointed out.
I wasn’t sure what I should do. Those five bucks might get me out of here, yet I would be half naked. My deciding factor was that the special thermal “hugger” boxers I was wearing looked like long gym shorts. So the exchange was made. After a few awkward holiday pleasantries I was back on my way.
It was good to have the cash but now I was getting a lot more stares. A few blocks later I was no sooner finding my way that the cold was setting in and late afternoon was turning to dark. I saw a street vendor selling hotdogs and decided to use my five dollars to buy some to keep warm. The vendor sourly told me he usually only sells hotdogs to people wearing pants but would make an exception. I kindly thanked him and ordered two. He took out the same type of marker the lady had in the store and made a line through them. “These are fake son.”
I tried to tell him that you couldn’t counterfeit dollar bills but he told me to get lost. I found a park bench and sat down defeated. A sweet but smelly homeless man sat beside me and we were soon trading our tales of woe. He took out a small bottle and told me this could help with some of my woes and maybe give me some “Christmas cheer”. I took a few swallows and at first felt nothing, then a burning in my throat and chest. A moment after that I was feeling really really good. I honestly don’t remember much after that for awhile, I vaguely recall running around with this homeless man screaming and yelling, maybe the cops chasing us at one point?
I passed out and was shaken awake some time later. I was in an alleyway. It was still nighttime and it was snowing, big beautiful white flakes. A small, alarmed figure shook my shoulder again and then darted away behind some trash cans. I mumbled it was okay to come out, there was no need to be frightened. And much to my surprise out stepped a bumpkin who for some reason was dressed like a Christmas Elf. I smiled and he (maybe she) smiled back with buck teeth shimmering in the white snow. The bumpkin came back up to me and whispered something in my ear with its sweet high pitch whine which sounds like gibberish. The bumpkin wanted me to hold out my hand and drop three acorns into it. The bumpkin smiled at me again and then was gone into the night. I passed out yet again.
I awoke to the sound of a car horn blaring. It was almost dawn and the sound of the horn was coming from my parent’s car. I looked down at myself. I was a complete filthy mess wearing only a trash bag around my waist. Two other homeless men were sleeping on each side of me. I knew I had a lot of explaining to do. On the car ride home, I allowed my parents lecture– “far too old for this stuff to happen to me” and “maybe I really do need help” to fade into the background. I jingled the three acorns in my hand while staring out the window. Maybe this season isn’t about flashy presents or stealing someone’s pants for a few bucks. Maybe it’s about simple goodwill either to human or bumpkin kind. Happy Holidays everyone and remember to keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas!!
Happy Eating,
BRI
The Bowlers of Lankville: A History
There is ample evidence of bowling in Lankville (originally known as “rocks”) as far back as the year -64,000. Archaeologists, working in some wet caves, have found wall paintings depicting small men rolling a rock down a rocky lane into some rocks. “They called it “rocks” and later “bowllsing,” said noted historian Glenn Ogilvie of the University of Southern Lankville. “Bowllsing was popular in specific areas of Lankville all the way down to the Lankville Empire. Various emperors promoted the sport and even had lanes in their summer palaces”. Ogilvie suddenly fell out of his chair and died and was then shot.
The history of bowllsing is hard to trace during the Crepuscular Ages (app. +400- +1200) but emerged as a relatively popular pastime during the Lankville Reformation. “There were no religious connotations attached to the slinging of balls into hard shafts, or pins as they later came to be known,” said noted sports historian B.J. Wilkens, who was interviewed while collecting seashells on a local beach. “Therefore, everyone could enjoy the sport. During the Counter-Reformation, the name was changed to “bowling”, for reasons unclear,” Wilkens added. The historian then continued his collecting (or, at least, what he considered collecting). Really, he was just putting sand in a bucket. When the bucket became overloaded, he would accidentally on purpose drop a great load of it and exclaim loudly, “Why, I’ve gone and dropped some of my seashells!” It was frankly very obvious where this little game of his was going.
The first famous Lankville bowler was undoubtedly “Little Eddie” Browny of the Small Lankville Nearby Islands.
Browny rolled the first recorded perfect game in 1827 and compiled a sparkling 288 average over his 15-year career. “My ancestor, “Little Eddie” was a great traveler, introducing the sport of bowling to several distant places like the Outer Depths, the Desert regions and the Big Mystery Savannah,” said distant relative Jean Kittsle, 92, of Eastern Lankville. “We have some of his letters where he talked about its health benefits, how to maximize the use of poor people pin-setting help and possible future innovations.” In his 1842 pamphlet Bowling: 2000, Browny wrote:
“Perspiration upon the hands is a great hindrance to the master bowler. I envision a device wherein cool air might be blown upon the bowler’s hands to relieve this worriment thereby dispensing with the need for powders, oils, and thick greasy compounds. These toiletries might then be kept at home in a convenient bedside drawer where they belong.”
Unfortunately, Browny did not live long enough to see the great spectacle of the first Pan-Lankville Bowling Tournament held in 1879 (Browny was murdered in a tent in 1850). The “Browny” Tournament was won that year by the great William Heins, champion for three consecutive seasons and the author of at least ten perfect games.
By the 20th-century, bowling became inordinately popular all throughout Lankville. The first true celebrity bowler was the long-time champion Rudy Cheps, who won his first title in 1942 and went undefeated through his retirement in 1955. “I grew up on a farm and I would pass the time rolling hogsheads down hills,” noted Cheps in an interview in 1982. “I got real good at rolling those hogsheads down hills and I think it prepared me for a career in bowling.” Cheps was the first bowler to be featured on television and was a big part of the LBS’ (Lankville Broadcasting System) popular program Commodious World of Sport which began airing in 1952. “I was asked to be on Commodious World of Sport several times and they broadcast a bunch of my games,” said Cheps. “I was interviewed by several notable announcers at the time, traveled all over Lankville, made a lot of money.” Cheps was also known for his enjoyment of the high life. “Yeah, I spent a lot of money, went to all the big shows, all the movie openings, always was one with the ladies. But after awhile, I got tired of the whole scene. You know, you can only jack up so much bare ass before you get tired of it. So, I retired. Went back to the farm.”
Bowling waned in popularity after Cheps’ abandonment of the title. “An enigmatic figure really did not appear after Cheps,” noted Commodious World of Sport reporter Larry Gorman-Thomas. “You had a bunch of nobodies– twenty-some different champs in 15 years. Never gave the public anything to grab a hold of. We stopped broadcasting the sport in 1975 or so.”
In 1982, bowling was removed from the Official Lankville Register of Popular Games. Today, it survives strictly as an amateur entertainment.





































































LETTER SACK