Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Murder on the Southern Limited

June 24, 2014 Leave a comment
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

 

I had won a little money at cards so I bought a sleeper car ticket on the Southern Limited.

It was a tiny fourth class room with a window and two cots. The guy opposite me was wearing a crumpled suit. I had had an awful lot of beer, so I kept having to get up during the night to piss. Every time I did, just as I was about to close the sliding door into the corridor, the guy ripped his pants off suddenly.

After a couple hours of this, I grew weary. I hesitated to get back into my cot, hesitated to touch anything. Around 3AM, the porter brought a bucket of small pizzas. He said, “Look, fellows. Small pizzas. They’re just like regular pizzas only smaller. They have all the rudimentary ingredients of a pizza, they are standard in every other conceivable way, it’s just that they are smaller. They are diminutive pizzas.” He paused and fingered the brass buttons of his uniform. “Please fill out the proper forms once you’ve finished.”

The Southern Limited.

The Southern Limited.

When he was finally gone, my bunkmate leaped onto the buckets and devoured the pizzas handily. I allowed it; I figured on it being his last meal. When he was almost done, he started to slowly unzip his pants. That’s when I brained him.

I crept out into the corridor and waited for the next stop. It was another empty station, another dimly-lit, dead mill town. There was a sign that said Welcome to Heaves and a smaller, faded sign for the Koala Bears and Walnuts Club. Eventually, I came upon a country line store. I fell asleep in a rocking chair on the porch.

I was nudged awake by a hairless man; he was seven foot tall if he was an inch. He told me that I had to buy something and he had the meat to back it up. It was then that I realized my wallet was gone.

He put me to work repairing the rusted corrugated shingles of the porch roof. He called me down for lunch and I ate some small pizzas out of a bucket in the merciless sun. I was so exhausted that I did not question the recent preponderance of small pizzas. It was late evening when he finally let me go. “In the name of all that is decent, you should be dead,” he said. He handed me a bottle and some highly-compressed hams in a paper bag and sent me on my way.

I wandered into town. There was another closed feed store but I stayed away from it. Went around back to sleep in the waving fields of alfalfa. It was there that I found Zelda and things changed forever.

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: ,

Royer Changes Name to “Frater-Xerxes”

June 24, 2014 Leave a comment
By Larry "God" Peters

By Larry “God” Peters

 

 

Eccentric Lankville business magnate Ric Royer announced today that he has changed his name to “Frater-Xerxes”.

Frater Xerxes' ( Ric Royer's) most recent mental institution portrait.

Frater Xerxes’  (Ric Royer’s) most recent mental institution portrait.

“I’m set with Frater-Xerxes now,” announced Royer, from a rural mountain carnival somewhere in the Lankville Mountain District. “It’s a process guys, it’s a process.”

Royer was unsure of the historical origins of the name.  “It was given to me by a magical mountain sage who I met while buying a rubber raincoat.  When he came up to me, the raincoat burst spontaneously into flames,” noted the Frater.  “I knew then that I would follow him.”

The Frater is using the carnival as a test-run for his new pretzel and frosted nut kiosks, set to begin operation in Lankille-area malls during the winter.

“We’ll start up here, feeding people who don’t matter,” said the Frater, who was clad in a strange brown robe with a see-through outer jacket made of wire and trash bags. “I can test my machines easier here and if anything happens to any of these customers, then it’s just a matter of dragging their lifeless corposes into the woods. There’s not a lot of people horning around, asking troublesome questions here. The air is fresh and God-like and there is no burden. Seed spilled into the ground will turn into a mighty tree.”

The Frater was then asked about his controversial mall retail space/home.

“It’s glorious, full of wonders. We have been through a lot this year and…”

(The interview had to be ended when the uneven legs of the Frater’s picnic table caused an extra-large soda to spill on the ground. No one helped the Frater and there was an interminable period of deep confusion and darkness).

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: ,

The Electronics Cranny: What’s New in Desk Calculators!

June 19, 2014 1 comment
Neil Cuppy Electronics Expert

Neil Cuppy Electronics Expert

 

For many years, it was only possible to use a calculating machine that was housed in a distant, dark room at the back of your office. This machine took up an enormous amount of space, caught fire easily and emitted a harmful mercury vapor thrust ray that occasionally caused nearby victims to be cut in half. Thankfully, in the past decade, great strides have been made in the field of desk calculating machines and they now take up about the same amount of space one would allot to a pizza or a gigantic tray of fries.

Consolidated Lankville R-J-285

Consolidated Lankville Calculator Model  R285

“Every year, we’re going to see the calculating machine get smaller,” noted Jarrad Heaths, an engineer with Consolidated Lankville, one of the nation’s biggest manufacturers of calculator electronics. “Eventually, I think, they will become small enough that one will be able to stick them into one’s pocket,” added Heaths, who pointed at his breast pocket for illustrative purposes. “You’ll maybe be able to get a little case for them and you can put them in your pocket, maybe fill all your pockets with calculating machines, walk around like that.  That is really our aim here at Consolidated Electronics.”

Trade magazines consider the Consolidated Model R285 to be the best desk calculator on the market.  “It has a lot of functions and it comes with a thick canvas tarp,” said Heaths, who allowed us to briefly paw at the gigantic machine.  “You’ll note instantly that you can type 12 numbers on the digital display face.  There are also these little vents on the top of the machine which allow for cooling.  The R285 does put off a lot of heat and, in extreme cases, fire which is something we’re working on,” admitted Heaths.  “We advise in tiny print at the back of the 382-page manual that you only use the R285 for 15 minutes at a time, allowing then for 30 minute “cool-off” periods.  Still, this is better than our competitors.”

Briss, Inc. is one such competitor.  Briss Calculators began producing calculators just three years ago.  “I got hooked and I when I get hooked, I go all out.  That’s why my last name is Calculators.  I had it legally changed.  It used to be “Hubbard,” said the executive, who was interviewed in a windowless, brown-paneled office built into the side of a rural hill.  “The R285 is all well and good but it’s got no elan, no pizzazz.  I mean, a guy that buys an R285– he doesn’t get excited about it like you’d get excited by a sports car or tits.  He just says, “Well, guess we need one of these,” and he doesn’t even bother to look at it.  Just takes it out of the box and dumps it on a desk. Briss aims to change all that.”

The

Pastoral setting where a BI002 was located.

Indeed, a Briss is all about design.  Their catalogue currently features six models, all of them impossible to ignore.  “They are very conceptual,” noted objet d’art critic Fritz Mallarme.  “We are already seeing them featured in exhibits,” added Mallarme, who was wearing a balloon tie.  “Even the way in which they are packaged is intriguing.  The BI002, for example, is purchased at an ordinary electronics store.  However, the buyer must “find” the machine, which is often located in a pastoral setting.  It’s quite outre.”

Technically, however, the Briss has not been popular in the trade magazines.  “Well they put them in fields,” said electronics expert Dan Awnings, an occasional contributor to The Electronics Cranny.  “The rain, the dew ruins them.  You end up with a digital face that is only partly readable.”  Awnings took a moment to look around in disgust.  “Also, they catch fire pretty easily too.  The desk calculator has a long way to go still.”

Look for further updates in future columns of The Electronics Cranny.

Categories: Electronics Cranny Tags: ,

Robots to Monitor Parks

June 17, 2014 1 comment
By Bernie Keebler Senior Staff Writer

By Bernie Keebler
Senior Staff Writer

LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS, YES!

 

In an attempt to curb the recent rise of “park challenges”, the Lankville Bureau of Probes announced yesterday that they will be installing mechanical police robots as early as next week.

“Many people go to the park,” said Detective Gee-Temple, who is spearheading the initiative. “They go and then they see a challenge, maybe two. And it ruins their picnic, volleyball game or make-out session,” noted Gee-Temple, who gave a short press conference this morning in which a large sheet cake was served. “The Lankville Bureau of Probes have collaborated with the Electronics Cranny to create this new “park robot” which will hopefully help to ebb this recent wave of challenges that have afflicted our great country.”

Detail of "park robot".

Detail of “park robot”.

Gee-Temple then removed a sheet from an object behind him. It turned out to be a “park robot”.

The intrepid detective then invited the creator of the “park robot” Fritz Tennis to the lectern.

“Each of these robots has been trained in the art of disrupting a challenge,” noted Tennis, an inventor and frequent Electronics Cranny columnist.

“Their strong mechanical arms and molded steel “grippers” or “hands”, if you will, are specifically designed to overwhelm the challenger, engulf him in robot and ultimately keep the challenger shackled until further police or robot help can arrive.”

“The “park robots” are also designed to shoot people in the face if necessary,” added Tennis.

Tennis suddenly left through a side door and no further questions were taken.

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: ,

Oral Histories of Some Former Lankville Pugilists

June 13, 2014 Leave a comment
By Lerd "Candyman" Wassler (1945-1959, 82W, 75L, 29KO)

By Lerd “Candyman” Wassler (1945-1959, 82W, 75L, 29KO)

 

I was born in a log cabin. My Dad was some kind of a laborer– he was the guy that would stand in a hole and they would pile dirt on him. I never did find out what kind of profession that was– never did hear about it being an actual profession again, never knew anybody else who had that profession and believe me, I asked around. Mom stayed at home with the kids and made candy for a shop the next town over. That’s how come I got the nickname “The Candyman” even though I didn’t actually like candy, was sick to death of the stuff and later on, after I made some money, I specifically sought out a town to live in that was bereft of candy shops which, let me tell you,  isn’t easy to do.

So, one time Dad came home just covered in dirt as usual and told me that there was going to be a boxing match between two hillbillies. “Bare-fisted too,” he said, through the dirt. He took me and some of my brothers down to see it and there was these two shirtless guys in overalls and one of them had a two-by-four and the other had a snake and he had some bells around his neck– I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to be about.  And they had this loudmouth prancing around outside the ring with one of those telemegaphones that he had taken off some old phonograph player. Well, turns out it was wrestling. And, I’ll tell you what, Dad never did know the difference between the two sports. He always proudly told people that his son was a big-time wrestler after I made it big. One time I brought him a boxing magazine with my picture on the cover and the title of the magazine was “BOXING” in big bright orange letters and he teared up (he was covered in dirt even then) and said he couldn’t believe that his son was on the cover of a wrestling magazine. I never did try after that.

Anyways, turns out the syndicate behind that hillbilly wrestling match also organized boxing and I went and tried out for it. They put me in the ring against a guy who was wearing a paper hat– I never did understand it– but I knocked him out anyway and then they brought in this ex-con from the next town over and I knocked him out too and so then that was the beginning of my career after that.

My first match was at the old Lankville Round Garden against Floyd Dean, who ended up getting his head chopped off a few years later, you may remember.  Anyways, Floyd was a guy who’d throw a hell of a lot of punches, not land any of ’em and then he’d tend to fall over backwards.  And that’s exactly how we played it out and sure enough, Dean fell over backwards in the 4th.  His manager was hot– kept saying that he’d chop Dean’s head off himself and all this other stuff about chopping heads off and so I guess it ain’t no surprise what happened to poor Floyd in the end.

Wassler vs. Porps, 1945.

Wassler vs. Porps, 1945.

After that, I won a lot of $500 (Lankville) fights where you’d get paid $250 to show and $500 to win.  I ran up a pretty good record along that circuit which was mostly out in the prairies or in the desert.  Then, I went back to the Garden and fought for the Tawny Gloves Competition and I beat Ray “The Scotch” Woolson and then they gave me a big trophy and at the very top of the trophy was these two boxers squaring off and they was in gold and you couldn’t miss it.  So I went back up to see Mom and Dad and I went into the living room and there was Dad, covered in dirt and with all these rolled-up posters on the couch next to him.  Must’ve been a hundred of ’em.  I never did find out what that was supposed to be about and, believe me, I asked around.  Anyways, I go up to Dad and I say to him, “Dad, look at this boxing trophy I won”.  And he took it in his dirty hands and he looked at the bright, shimmering cloth along the sides and he cried and said that I was a good wrestler and so that was the last time I even worried with trying to explain that whole business.

The matches everybody remembers me for best are my fights with Glenn L. Porps in 1948. And I think that’s because Glenn L. and I just pounded one another for 12 rounds and finally they said, “OK, that’s enough. We’ll settle this later” and everybody just walked away. Glenn L.  and I couldn’t figure on any of it– they just emptied the arena real fast and left us there. It was the damndest thing and I never did get no adequate explanation for it. And then they said, “You boys come back and we’ll try this again”. So they had a rematch and Glenn L.  and I both said at the weigh-in, “Now there’s gonna’ be a winner tonight, right?” and they said they wouldn’t guarantee nothing and a couple promoters got real hot at us and I saw one guy put our checks in a safe.

This time, we both took it easy. There was a round, the 4th I think, where we didn’t throw a single punch, neither one of us. The crowd started booing, started throwing things like popcorn boxes and chairs and wet towels.  But we kept on about it.  But anyways, they did announce a winner for this one and it turned out to me but it just as easily could have been Glenn, nobody had no idea. I don’t think Glenn ever did recover from any of it. Last time I saw him, he was sitting in the woods eating fried chicken by himself. He wasn’t even using no napkin– his face and his chin was just glistening from chicken grease. It was a sad sight.

After that I lost as many as I won and I just called it quits in ’59 after I found myself boxing at the opening of a grocery store. I thought, “this is sad here, Lerd, you’re better than this” and then I did end up buying some groceries but still I didn’t have no passion for it no more.

Spent twenty years in the highway business. I’d go stand on the highway, wait for somethin’ to happen. It was alright. I’m retired now and I keep a good house. Never did marry. I always did say that why would you buy the cow when…”

(Wassler suddenly became very confused and was unable to finish his aphorism).

Categories: Oral Histories of Some Lankville Pugilists Tags: , ,

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Third Class into the Western Sun

June 12, 2014 1 comment
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

 

I told the guy at the ticket office to get me on a car as soon as possible. He dallied a bit, played for a few minutes with a paddle-ball game, then shoved a third-class ticket on the Lankville Western Limited into my hand.  Departure time: 45 minutes.

I wandered into the station and picked out three nature photography magazines. Some tard came up and pressed a little cardboard box into my hand. It read, “FOR THE LARGE MAN”.

“What the hell is this?”
“Open it…jus’…open it up,” he said. He guffawed uncontrollably between the words.

It was a rubber that looked like it was made for a horse.

“Idn’t that…idn’t that real funny?” he said. He wandered off. I looked at the guy at the ticket office. He shrugged his shoulders.

We boarded an hour later. I noticed that the tard was in my car and this worried me. There was also a furtive Islander in a suit, this worried me further. I figured on getting off at the next stop.

Typical transload shed for humus and peat.

Typical transload shed for humus and peat.

It was a lonely country station and the sun was about to go down. It was just me and a cute piece of blonde trash that got off– the tard and the Islander stayed on. There was a guy sweeping the floor inside.

“Where’s there to go here?” I asked.

He thought a minute.
“There’s a transload shed for humus and peat down the road.”
“I don’t figure on them having a bed to sleep in, do you?”
“Naw. Guess not.”

Jackass I thought. I contemplated punching him suddenly in the gut but the piece of blonde trash was there and I didn’t want to cause a scene.

It was a dirt road that led into a tired old mill town. The piece of blonde trash followed about 50 yards behind me. I felt that we were both walking into a burning western sun and that neither of us would ever be forgiven. But when I next looked behind me, I saw that the piece of blonde trash was on a porch, far in the distance, being greeting lovingly by two elderly lesbians. Everybody has somebody but me I thought.

I walked back to the station and punched the attendant in the gut.

Then I felt a little better.

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: ,

Belvedere Mauled by Bear

June 12, 2014 Leave a comment
By Grady Kitchens Senior Staff Writer

By Grady Kitchens
Senior Staff Writer

 

LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS, YES!

Lankville Daily News columnist Brock Belvedere, Jr. was badly mauled by a bear Wednesday evening in the cafeteria at the Lankville Memorial Discount Zoo in the Western Valley Area. Belvedere is currently in critical condition.

Zoo officials stated that the bear entered the cafeteria via an access doorway that was accidentally left ajar.  He immediately attacked the 52-year old journalist.

"Bundles", 2005-2014

“Bundles”, 2005-2014

“He [Mr. Belvedere] was eating alone and “Bundles” had somehow climbed out of our historical bear pit, went up a stairway into the cafeteria unnoticed and just got all up in Mr. Belvedere’s cranny,” noted zoo official Rance Keepers.  “Fortunately, pretty much all of our patrons were carrying guns and they shot Bundles dead.”

The Lankville Bureau of Probes has already opened an investigation.

“Obviously, we’ve had a number of problems with the Lankville Memorial Discount Zoo,” noted lead prober Detective Gee-Temple. “You have the President [Dr. Pondicherry] being eaten by a lion, you have the incident a few years back with Ric Royer getting his arm stuck in a trash receptacle shaped like a lion’s head, you have that terrible zoo peeper that used to hang from trees. Clearly, an investigation is warranted.”

Belvedere is being treated at Vitiello Decorative Hams hospital.

“We may have to do some surgery,” said Dr. Alvin Parrish, who was interviewed by telephone. “His head is basically off. I mean, it’s still on but really it’s about off. I think bears like to eat heads the best and that’s what we’re seeing here today, Grady.”

Belvedere has been a senior staff writer for the News since 1979.

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: , ,

Timely Salad Tips by Brenda Buford

June 11, 2014 Leave a comment

salad1

 

The salad is a very important part of the meal. This fact is appreciated by more women each year. Furthermore, most of our husbands who used to scorn “rabbit food” now realize that the modern salad can be hearty, robust, and full of vitamins.  The salad has come into its own.

A grave error made by most hostesses is the repeated serving of the same simple salad.  Sliced tomatoes on crisp lettuce leaves makes a good salad but this dish should not appear with the same regularity as say, potatoes, lap cakes or breads.  Salads should be varied as new fruits and vegetables come in season.

I noticed early on in my marriage to Glenn, for example, that he tended to be disappointed with the appearance of the simple salad more than once upon a week.  Although he never said anything, later I would see him in the yard destroying a wicker clothes hamper (he is a wicker clothes hamper salesman).  I learned then the importance of variety.

Right now, we have the Minger Pear and the Tokay Grape in season– both delicious salad fruits that should be used immediately if ripe. The Minger Pear is an extremely juicy fruit that adds zest and flavor to any salad– be careful though!  The Minger Pear is known to elicit an explosion of hot, wet, juices upon its piercing.  Have a towel at the ready to stop the sizzling, gushing, potent juices.   The Tokay is a red grape from the outer Lankville regions– it is known for its dynamic, well-formed berries.  I have heard it said that the berries are so hale that they often hang low in the orchards. Straggly bunches with damaged berries are obviously inferior.

With the right kind of stout, potent fruits now in hand, try the following recipe on your family or guests.

Floating Coronado Salad
2 tablespoons gelatin
1 can of lard
2 cups boiling water
1/2 cup sugar
2 lemons
1/2 cup Minger Pear, sliced
4 pairs of rugged, juicy, heavy berries
Mayonnaise
Figs

Now, let’s begin by soaking the gelatin in cold water and then suddenly adding the boiling hot water. This will help to agitate the compounds and also what makes this a “floating” salad. Now, bring the lard and the sugar over to the counter’s edge. Hold your bowl of water one foot beneath the counter and push the entire container of lard into the bowl. Obviously, the water will splash out, maybe get all over your apron and maybe even run down your leg but don’t worry– part of making a salad is not being afraid to get a little dirty! Now, remove the entire container of lard from the bowl and push out two paddles worth (if a paddle is not available, try improvising– I’ve used broken pieces of the destroyed wicker clothes hampers from my backyard!) Now, grab hold of those lovely juice-laden berries and let them fall from your hand slowly into the bowl. Follow this by cutting up the lemons. Now serve on lettuce and mayonnaise.

You will never regret the slight effort necessary to prepare these unusual and seasonable salads.

Categories: Contests, Offers, Challenges Tags: ,

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Big Trouble at Johnny Plechino’s

June 11, 2014 2 comments
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

Johnny Plechino himself came out and told me to put the “Pizza Pie” sign back up. It had fallen to the curb and killed a homeless.

“Where do you want it?”

Johnny Plechino rubbed his chin. He was a fat, slovenly man who perpetually wore tomato sauce-stained T-shirts, after a fashion. As if that weren’t bad enough, I personally hated Islanders.

“Fix it up to hang from the second floor,” he finally said. “You can go up the back staircase.”

Johnny Plechino's

Johnny Plechino’s

I had to go through Johnny Plechino’s filthy bachelor apartment. There were stag magazines and films everywhere. I could hear the complete madness of next door issuing through the paper-thin walls– it was Big Ed’s Barbeque– nobody had any idea what went on in there. All I heard was a moaning in crescendo and the sound of things being suddenly deflated. I decided to mind my own business.

I threw up the sash of Johnny Plechino’s bedroom window. It was a degenerate street that Johnny Plechino had decided to open a carry-out on– there was scum everywhere. Some guy had a basket on his head and was urinating against a lamppost. That was the kind of thing you had to put up with around Johnny Plechinos.

I fixed up the old brass holder and replaced the sign. It blew listlessly in the wind. Then, I heard a door open. It was a gorgeous piece of eye candy, fresh out of the shower.

“I’m clean,” she said.

We humped.

Come to find out, it was Johnny Plechino’s girl. Turns out, he had a pile of money and he kept her there, in that trash-strewn apartment. And he knew about me and her right away.

That’s when I figured there would be big trouble at Johnny Plechino’s (titular line).

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: ,

I Have Created a Members-Only Rare Sticker Database

June 11, 2014 3 comments
By John Chubbucks Sticker Expert

By John Chubbucks Sticker Expert

 

I have created a members-only rare sticker database.  It’s $39.99 a month to join.

What do you get for that money?  Only the single greatest rare sticker database in the world that has ever and will ever be created.

I have classified all rare stickers according to a lettering system of my own creation followed by binary code.  For example, the very rare 1975 Buntz Mallows’ Richard and the Postman set is known as PPHX-110001. Each individual sticker in the set (there are 12 known to exist) are thus identified as PPHX-110001-1, PPHX-110002 and so on and so forth.  I only identify those stickers adhering to the MINT IN WRAPPER Chubbucks condition rating.  Everything below that grade is crap.

Using this code, you will be able to find every rare sticker known to mankind as well as comprehensive data on the sticker’s production, release date, distribution details and a photo of front and back.  You will find AT MINIMUM three paragraphs on the type of adhesive used.  Exact measurements are included.  There is no greater resource in the known world.

I have been working on this database (in addition to my numerous other projects) since 1989 so you can be sure I have exhausted all known, secondary resources.  My bibliography is impeccable, beyond reproach.

You can pay by check by sending $39.99 each month to John Chubbucks, c/o Linda Chubbucks, 268 Spoons Road, Eastern Lankville or by PayBuddy at chubbucksstickergod.spummail.net.  Make checks out to CASH.

You won’t be disappointed.

Categories: Contests, Offers, Challenges Tags: ,

Missing Magnate Meyer Spotted Entering Woods with Case of Light Beer

June 11, 2014 2 comments
By Bernie Keebler Senior Staff Writer

By Bernie Keebler
Senior Staff Writer

A LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS YES! BREAKING REPORT

 

Missing fried plantain magnate Shane Meyer was spotted this morning entering a wooded area carrying a case of light beer.

Meyer was followed along a rudimentary dirt path until he came to a stop along a hillside overlooking a debris-choked creek and a half-deserted Neptune dealership. He placed a tattered blanket on the ground, opened a beer and began unloading items from a small backpack which included a plastic container of soup, a copy of popular singer John Berndt’s autobiography Get to the Heart, RIGHT! and a makeup palette.

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

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

Meyer was observed for nearly an hour, applying different shades of rouge and then removing them with a moist rag. He read occasionally from the Berndt book and drank seven beverages. He disposed of the cans in the aforementioned creek.

Meyer suddenly sensed that we were watching him when this reporter accidentally stepped on a nearby squeeze toy. As he stared fixedly into the brush where we lay, the executive slowly slipped out of his shorts and began to urinate straight into the air, managing a fount between six to eight feet. We knew then it was time to leave.

The incident was later reported to the Lankville Police Offices, who promised a full investigation.

“Obviously we would like to know where he is,” said Detective Gee-Temple, who was placed in charge of the case. “Mr. Meyers [sic] is an important, rich man and we will spare no expense in locating him.”

Meyer has been missing since August, 2013, when the crude tire-house in which he had been living burned to the ground.

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES!, News of the Weird

The Electronics Cranny: So You Want to Be a Ham

June 10, 2014 1 comment
By Fritz Tennis Electronics Expert

By Fritz Tennis Electronics Expert

Long ago, the only requirement for obtaining the lowest level amateur radio operator license (Ham Class) was being able to pass a five words-per-minute Morses Code Test. Still, many people failed even this. In fact, the code test kept many an aspiring Ham from ever even taking the test. Many died, lonely and fat, in dark, spare, curtain-less rooms, unable to even bring themselves to look out at the world which fully recognized their abject failure. It was a sad period.

But as time has marched on, it has become significantly easier. “It’s a reasonably simple test now,” noted Lankville Communications Commission (LCC) associate Lance Heath. “We dropped the code requirement and instituted the 35-question true/false written test. We also don’t really monitor the test very closely so there’s an awful lot of cheating. Probably something we should look into.” Heath yawned expansively and began staring mindlessly at a series of binders that lined his window ledge.

By means of helping the hopeful ham acquire his license (and also become familiar with some of the basic questions of operation), I will outline some of the most frequently asked questions below.

 

Q.  What is the best way to measure frequency drift on a transceiver?
A. The best way is with a small, low-cost frequency counter. Be sure not to limit to one band and be sure to extend your arms outwards far in front of you and from a high window if possible. Wave the counter up and down and then move it in circles. Make sure it’s daytime and some people are around, watching you as you hang out of the window with your counter– this will significantly help your readings.

Q. How can I get a more uniform response from a pair of magnetic headphones having a dc resistance of around 4000?

Figure One

Figure One

A. Common problem. Refer to figure one.  You’ll notice that Lamp No. 40 requires a miniature screw compared to a bayonet.  This is what we see happening time and again and there seems to be no end to it.  

Q.  How do you know if your cables are any good?
A. The best way is to buy a large, specialized device available by mail from the Electronics Cranny. It reads in the thousands of megaohms and will be able to tell immediately if you are working with faulty cables. If you want to be cut-rate about it, then use a scope. If a scope is not available or if someone crushed yours in a challenge, then a VTVM set at the highest range might work.

Q. What is a good study guide for the Ham license?
A. Ham License Guide Today is a very good reference marred only by the strange inclusion of a series of lewd photographs of the author. Fritz Tennis’ You Too Can Be a Ham Right Now, Everybody! is probably the most up-to-date publication on the subject as the author edits it continually late at night while his sexless wife snores loudly in the next room. Other manuals or guides may not be revised sufficiently to include the latest changes in the LLC exams.

Q. Once I get my license, will I be allowed to broadcast my own version of the news?
A. Absolutely not. The LCC strictly forbids you from communicating with anyone other than fellow hams. Broadcasting news, playing music, or cussing of any kind will cost you all of your ham equipment and likely a fine and some time in jail. “Yeah, we have a little van to go after those guys,” noted Heath, who had fallen asleep while staring at the binders. “Do that and it’s possible that we could show up at your door.”

Hopefully, this will help you on your way.  Good luck!

Categories: Electronics Cranny Tags: ,

A Review of New Soft Toys for Girls

June 6, 2014 1 comment
By Ida Rumpus

By Ida Rumpus

 

 

The summer soft toy season is upon us and Lankville-area retailers have seen an onslaught of new products. “We’ve been privy to a panoply of soft toys for girls arriving pretty much daily,” noted Dick Splace, owner of The Toy Recovery Bargain Center in Eastern Lankville.  “Sometimes, the trucks just back right into our loading bay in a sort of haphazard manner and just drop all the toys unpacked in a sort of sudden confusing eruption; a sort of salvo of soft toys,” added Splace.  “We have been very busy cleaning up these unregulated blasts of toy shots that just end up all over the parking lot and…in the grass…”  Splace suddenly became very hysterical and had to be led away.

Let’s have a look now at some of this summer’s best offerings.

CUDDLY PLAYTHINGS

"The Panda Creep"

“The Panda Creep” by Cuddly Playthings

The Cuddly Playthings Company is based in Northern Lankville and operates a 265-acre factory and warehouse producing 750,000 items daily.  “I’d say our best new offering is “The Panda Creep,” noted Founder and CEO Kevin Pans.  “Have a look at the strange expression on his face.  Might be friendly, might be sort of apathetic and then again, might be an absolute creep.  Who knows?  I don’t.”  “The idea behind the Panda Creep is mystery,” noted its creator Jenny Wockenfuss.  “You really can’t be sure what you’re getting.  Each expression is exactly identical.  I think it’s a good life lesson and parents seem to agree.” Indeed they do, as the Panda Creep has sold over 100,000 units in its first month alone.  “Ours ended up being a creep,” said a local mother who asked to remain anonymous.  “And then the second one we bought ended up being a creep too.  But the third one has been a real sweetheart and my daughter loves him.  It’s definitely her favorite toy of the year!”

SCHOENFELD HOUSE

The Large-Eyed Stuffed Owl by Schoenfeld House

The Large-Eyed Stuffed Owl by Schoenfeld House

The Schoenfeld House is one of Lankville’s oldest soft girl toy manufacturers, founded in 1897.  “Our original office was old Mr. Schoenfeld’s house in Southern Lankville,” stated CEO Barry Barrasso, aged 45.  “He made senseless wooden toys until 1899, then he switched over to soft and we’ve been riding that wave ever since.”  The Schoenfeld House now exclusively produces and markets large-eyed soft owls.  “Definitely a niche market but a good one,” Barrasso noted, after taking a short break to eat from a sopping, over-sauced container of ethnic food.  “You won’t find another maker of large-eyed soft owls in Lankville or anywhere else for that matter,” added Barrasso, who pushed a packet of papers in our direction for reasons unclear.

Gino Orr is the large-eyed soft owl’s current designer.  “I started out drawing owls on placemats which are a sort of laminated, rectangular flat object that you can place before you when you eat and which sort of absorbs a lot of the gobbing,” Orr informed.  “I think that Mr. Barrass [sic] saw my drawings and liked them and we met at a motel and really hashed out the whole idea of a more modern design for the large-eyed owl– a design that would be more updated for the current century.  So, that’s what you’re seeing today.”

The large-eyed soft owl has sold 45,000 units in May and June alone.

 

WORLDS OF ROYER

The "Fire Cat" by Worlds of Royer

The “Fire Cat” by Worlds of Royer

Even oft-incarcerated Lankville business magnate and sports team owner Ric Royer has cast his lot in with the girls soft toy craze this season, creating the “Worlds of Royer” company, a subsidiary of his many other endeavors.  Royer, who was interviewed in his shuttered mall retail space/home, outlined his headliner soft toy for the summer season.

“It’s called “The Fire Cat”.”  Royer screamed and then paused to allow us to take everything in.  “Look at it over there on my shelf.  It has its head tilted in that loving, deliciously cute manner but it’s also capable of existing easily, even flourishing within the terrible subterranean confines of Hell.”

Royer displayed “The Fire Cat’s” accessories, sold separately.

“You can buy a little soft food dish, a water bowl or these gigantic soft fires that represent the hideous conflagrations of Hell.”  Indeed, the plush fires come in sizes of five to ten feet.  “They should be mammoth,” Royer added.  “As vast and colossal as the raging flames of Hell.  But my advisers mentioned that it would be difficult to sell twenty or thirty foot tall stuffed flames.  So we made them more to scale.”

Royer, who suddenly became frightened of the stuffed flames and the Fire Cat, let roar an unstoppable scream and the interview had to be ended prematurely.

The “Fire Cat” has sold 22,000 units since late April.

 

With all these fantastic new soft girl toys for summer, we can only wait with baited breath for what Lankville’s toy concerns will be offering in the Fall.

Categories: Contests, Offers, Challenges Tags: , , ,

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Cannibal of Orion

June 5, 2014 1 comment
By Ric Royer

By Ric Royer

I sat in the Jew’s cluttered second-floor office above a furniture store. He threw a plane ticket at me.

“Go down to this place, Orion,” he said, as he sipped loudly from a desk-sized barrel of soda. “They got a lot of these big bovine girls down there. These big, dumb, cow-eyed girls that’ll do anything for a buck. Take a camera.”

I spit on his floor upon leaving. I knew the Jew hated that.

Orion International “Friends” Airport was a dot on the map. There was a little restaurant that served me an absolutely deplorable meal of boiled chicken, toast and a plate of mysterious peanuts. It was all they had.

I left no tip.

I drove on out to Dr. Coombs’ house where I’d be staying for a few weeks. He had a dilapidated mansion on the outskirts of town, encircled by a dense grove of dying fruit trees. There was an office on the first floor and a small waiting room. There was a secretary at a desk filling out forms.

I waited awhile. There were a couple of old magazines, a paperback called Demon Experiences of Many Lands and an asinine little book of proverbs. Finally, the frosted glass office door opened up and a man wearing a giant orthopedic shoe walked out. I laughed loudly, suddenly. The man sauntered off.

Dr. Coombs invited me into the office. It was paneled in ersatz wood.

Orion is known for its lovely park. But they also had a cannibal there.

Orion is known for its lovely park. But they also had a cannibal there.

“Would you like an examination for free?” he asked, strangely.

“Skip it.”

“What will you be doing here in our little town?” he asked, after offering me a chair.

“Just checking out the local talent. Maybe do a few spreads for a magazine up north.”

He leaned back reflectively. “We value our women here, Mr. Pantwheat (that was the fake name I had given him). I should warn you that there will be many an angry father, many an angry sensuous lover after you if you try to perpetrate such a scheme.”

“I’ll take my chances.” I almost added “asshole” at the end but decided against it.

“Alright. You’ve been warned.”

We were nearly to the office door (indeed, the doctor had turned the knob and cracked it slightly) when he suddenly closed it and led me over to the window. He looked about surreptitiously.

“I should tell you that there is a cannibal on the loose in Orion.”

“What?”

“There’s a cannibal loose. It’s kind of being kept a secret, however, so don’t say anything.”

And with that, I was ushered up to my room.

It was on the second floor and towards the back, overlooking part of the dying grove and part of an enclosed patio that appeared to have been sans rumpus for quite some time. The wood benches were shockingly grey with age and the small charcoal grill had been overturned and left to rust in a small chasm filled with impure rainwater.

I had only a moment then to take stock of the room. There was an unassuming bureau topped with a lace throw and a bed a little on the smallish side for my liking, particularly if I planned (as I did) on rumpling some local heinie. Then, suddenly, I had little time for such thoughts.

There was a disturbance below, then another. Then a deep concussion seemed to wallop the entire structure. I heard two distinct screams– one from Dr. Coombs and another, a female, possibly the secretary. Then there was the sound of something being splattered about followed by an ungodly howl. There was a brief moment of silence as I knelt beside the bed and then, the sound of a chainsaw started up.

I moved to the window but could not budge the ancient sash. The other window was stuck fast too. There were no other options. I tossed a small chair through one and the sound of shattering glass came at the exact moment of a lull in the noise of the chainsaw. I stepped out onto the roof to the sound of heavy footfall.

I dropped down the metal gutter, chocked with debris and took off towards the grove. I looked back once and it was then that I saw that eldritch presence looking through the broken window, the chainsaw by its side.

I knew then that if I didn’t make it out of Orion, I too would be eaten.

Categories: Royer's Madcap Experiences Tags: ,

Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

June 5, 2014 1 comment
Chris Vitiello

By Chris Vitiello

It is my custom to eat alone and quite late at night. I have a small kitchen table– enough room for only two (though it is only ever one) and it is here that I first prepare the custom Vitiello Decorative Ham for gazing purposes. This composition takes one hour.

When it is placed precisely at the corner and tilted at a 20-degree angle, I commence with cooking. I require only two pots but they are of the finest quality, imported directly from distant Lankvillian outposts. I make a spare meal of one slice of water-boiled specialized meat chuck, one LaRette potato (chosen for its silkiness) and one spoonful of field sprouts.

It was with these gastronomic endeavors that I was engaged when I suddenly heard the outer gate alarm ring. I glanced at the monitor. Indeed, it appeared that two prowlers had entered the confines. I lowered the flame on the pots and made my way quietly to the great room. I extinguished the dim lighting, made my way along the glass-encased decorative hams that adorn the outer wall and entered the study. Here, I selected two whips.

By now they were within the inner gate. I realized then that these two miscreants had made some sort of a deal with Hartenstein, the oafish night watchman.  He will be arrested I thought but not before he is whipped mercilessly.   And with that in mind, I selected a third whip– this with a quirt at the end of the romal.

The quirt at the end of the romal.

The quirt at the end of the romal.

By now, they had entered the lobby. “The hams are in the room on the left,” I heard Hartenstein whisper. A flashlight beam went close to me as I ducked behind a plush leather chair. “Are you sure they are worth anything?” one of the miscreants asked. “Are you kidding?” Hartenstein replied, no longer whispering. “Those are prototypes. They’re priceless.”

All three were now fumbling with the lock as per my design. It is an overly-complicated lock– I submitted the plans myself. I recall standing over the locksmith Backmiller, a doddering coot who operated a shop nearby. “I can’t figure it out at all,” he kept saying, as he stared hopelessly at my drawings. “That is precisely the point, Backmiller,” I replied, my hand on the very same whip that I would soon use on Hartenstein.

I now took pleasure in watching the trio of brainless buffoons fumble with my lock, all three whips at the ready, as I creeped along the carpet. “The glass, I can’t break it,” one of the miscreants said, as he hopelessly pounded on what was indeed, not glass at all, but a special transparent solid developed by mistake at the factory for the purpose of coating decorative hams. “We better get out of here,” the other said but Hartenstein demurred. “We gotta’ to be able to break this– it…it can’t be.”

“It can indeed, Hartenstein,” I said, calmly raising myself from the floor. “And now I would like you to tell these boys what will happen.”

I don’t recall the interval between the moment the heist was exposed and the moment the police arrived. It may have been five minutes, it may have been an hour. I do know that my dinner was perfectly cooked by the time I got back to it and that three lovely whips were broken in the process.

The next day, I dispensed with having a watchman and merely added a third and fourth exterior gate.

 

Chris Vitiello is the founder of Vitiello Decorative Hams.

Categories: Musings of a Decorative Ham Man Tags: ,