Royer Rents Mall Retail Space; Planning to Live There
By Larry “God” Peters The Lankville Action News YES! Team
Far-Flung Areas Correspondent
file photo
Lankille business magnate and sports team owner Ric Royer has leased a local mall retail space and announced today that he is planning to move in by the end of the month.
View of Removed Pines Mall, Eastern Lankville.
“I spend 8-9 hours there a day,” noted the executive, who was recently released from the hospital after a zoo incident involving a suction-powered trash receptacle. “It was suggested to me by certain friends and specific lovers that I simply take up residence there to save time and travel expenses. I thought it was a great idea.”
The space, which had previously housed Teppo Numminen’s Baby Pantry, a now-defunct chain, is currently under renovations.
“I’ve given the architects and the engineers my unique vision for the space,” said Royer, who suddenly began removing his shirt. “They are now in the process of attempting to match that vision.”
Royer suddenly began blubbering uncontrollably and the interview was ended.
How I Escaped the Doomed Mummy Island by “Inner Hammer”
Small pizza magnate “Inner Hammer” recounts his horrifying ordeal in this exclusive story.
Right before we landed, I thought something seemed different. The Teets Island Chain are known for their brilliant, sandy beaches but as I looked down, I saw nothing but a mean, cracked airstrip and a grey, rocky shore. I meant to say something to the pilot but my mouth was full of mouth-watering, crisped chicken and I had also shoved part of a buttered biscuit in for added effect. It took me several minutes of chewing before I could speak.
Rare photograph of one of the mummy islands that surround the Teets chain.
But by then it was too late. The plane was in descent and the airstrip lay ahead. I noticed that there was no one about and a deep, ominous jungle lay ahead. There seemed to be no terminal– just a ragged swath of asphalt. The sky grew dark.
The plane landed. “Teets Island Chain, sir,” said the pilot. I knew then that he was an idiot. A staircase made of bamboo was wheeled to our door by a creature like nothing I had seen before. He was dead but undead. I ate some more crisped chicken.
The pilot consulted a hand-map (editor’s note: a very tiny, hand-sized card showing a very large area, popular in the Islands). I believe it was then that he realized his mistake.
The bamboo steps banged against the door. Within moments, the mummies were upon us.
The pilot and I escaped by using our wits, the bucket of chicken and some biscuits. The mummies had great interest in this and we were able to ferret them outside by using the viands as bait. But more mummies were pouring out of the great jungle. They were doomed men and women (white), who had been left here by some unspeakable evil.
One of the few known photographs of “Inner Hammer”.
The pilot made every effort to escape but mummies were holding down the plane. Three times, he took off only to be brought down to earth by the mummies’ pull. The weight was simply too much. We had to lighten.
The pilot looked back at me. “You’ve got to get rid of that giant stuffed bear,” he said. Indeed, while in Lankville, I had purchased a unique item for my new island girlfriend. It was an enormous cuddly teddy bear, filled with four hundred pounds of heavy candies.
“Get rid of it. THROW IT OUT,” he said, his voice betraying deep urgency. “How about I throw you out! How about we let the cuddly bear stuffed with four hundred pounds of heavy candies fly the plane?”I yelled senselessly. It was absurd, I knew it. I was just buying time. I thought for a brief moment of all the coitus that I’d be missing by not presenting this bear. It would be a lot. From really good-looking Teets women. But what could I do?
So the bear went out. The mummies (now numbering hundreds) devoured him instantly. And the plane took off.
I had lost the bear and my chicken meal. But I had lost something more.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Speaker at the Home
By Ric Royer
File photo
Recently, we patients were ushered into a large basement auditorium. Folding chairs had been placed in rows along the floor and a lectern had been arranged in the front. Beside it was a large wooden crate of unimaginable purpose.
We were settled into our chairs when Warden Jenness announced a special speaker. There was light clapping as the man, an ugly man, approached the platform.
The Foontz-Flonnaise Home of Abundant Senselessness.
Immediately, it was apparent that his voice belied his appearance. It was fluid and booming, filling the room approvingly. The lunatics all leaned forward with interest though the speech itself was somewhat vague and mysterious.
Upon conclusion, Warden Jenness approached the wooden crate with a crowbar. The top was pried off and the speaker stared into the breach. After some time, he nodded to Jenness and a table was produced with a series of small white cards.
“I will read your name and when I do,” said the speaker, “I want you to come to the front of the room here where I will personally hand you your doll.” A murmur went up about the room, some of it senseless.
I did as everyone else. My name was called (it was pronounced Roy-sticks) and I sauntered towards the speaker at which time I was handed a doll in a box. “Your doll’s name is Geraldo,” noted Jenness, who was standing by with a clipboard. “He is from Spain. You will find the necessary information inside.”
Back in my room, I removed the doll from its package. Its arms sprung straight out and it had a thick crop of yarny hair and was clad in a bullfighting outfit. The card fell into my lap.
This is Geraldo. He is the son of a bullfighter from Spain. He likes hot milk.
I was puzzled. I put the doll on a chair and commenced with my reading of some Snow Island vampire novels.
I suppose that I fell asleep for a short time for when I awoke, I noticed immediately that Geraldo and his chair had been moved below the window. There was a thick strand of rope next to him and a rudimentary knot of some sort had been tied. I called for the guard.
It was Boggs who answered my call, a giant halfwit from the Islands. I showed him the scene below my window. He expressed some doubt, moved the chair back to its original position and confiscated the strand of rope. That night, I was removed to a basement cell and placed under constant watch for 24 hours.
When I was returned to my cell the next day, I received a visit from Doctor Shovels. He sat down on Geraldo’s chair and moved it towards me.
“I understand Mr. Roysticks (it seemed it could not be corrected throughout the institution) that you did not take care of Geraldo. For example, it is noted here that you did not ask for any warm milk.”
I was befuddled and could not answer.
“If you do not take care of Geraldo within the first hour of his birth, he leaves,” explained Doctor Shovels. “Unfortunately, here you seemed to have failed.”
I became deeply confused by the events of the previous day.
“Well, something will have to be done. I cannot recommend you for another doll.” He made a note on the clipboard. “Also, you will have a terrible, uncooked dinner tonight as punishment.” He left the cell.
I never found out where Geraldo went.
Shopping with Royer
By Gump Tibbs
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
A special contingent of Foontz-Flonnaise Home of Abundant Senselessness wardens have been assigned to take incarcerated Lankville business magnate Ric Royer shopping and I’ve been invited along. Even though the trip is scheduled for 7AM, I cannot refuse– Royer’s excursions to the mall are legend. I must see for myself.
Langston’s Progress Crossing Mall
On the van ride over, I ask Royer about his new nickname– “One Who Uses it Daily”. He blinks confusedly and then lightly vomits. “I have no memory of that,” he finally notes. “I think that’s made up. Did you make that up? Or was it the guy that got carried off by the bubble?” Royer, of course, is referring to Brock Belvedere, Jr., still missing as of this morning. “No, no,” I assure him. “You stated it just a few days ago. Held a press conference and everything.” Royer takes an enormous bite of a cream-filled donut– the cream oozes down his neck. “It’s chicanery,” he says, spitting globs of half-masticated donut all over the seats. He eats four more donuts before finally sitting back in his seat and patting his non-existent belly. “Ooooh,” he moans, lightly. “I was hoping to make it to six donuts but clearly with age, my capacity has diminished,” he says. “Have you ever eaten a donut with your shirt off?” he suddenly asks. I shake my head– one of the guards seated behind Royer speaks up. “All the time,” he states quietly. “REALLY??” Royer asks. He seems unusually interested and the guard revels in the attention.
We finally arrive at the mall– LANGSTON’S PROGRESS CROSSING. I have no idea what the name signifies. Several of the anchor stores have agreed to open quite early for Royer so that he may have the entire showroom to himself. After buying casually at a few smaller stores (Royer purchases 11 new illuminated snow villages from an establishment called KEITH’S– he places a white glove on his hand and points disinterestedly at the desired objects), we finally enter the famous home goods store BARRELS AND CAGES. Royer puts on a new pair of white gloves and nods lightly at the perky young clerk who greets our strange aggregation with considerable aplomb.
“Show me some Easter towels,” he states, intentionally looking away from the clerks. He pushes over a glass media cabinet– the showroom is filled with the sound of shattering glass. The clerks all apologize and an island janitor is called for. Several jacquard dish towels are produced on pillows. Royer laughs. “Not to my liking,” he says, adding considerable noblesse oblige to the tone of his voice. “But I guess they will have to do.”
Royer kicks an ottoman and it goes sliding into a large display of wine glasses. Glass flies everywhere. Two island janitors are called for. “That ottoman was improperly placed,” he states, looking away. “Clearly you are hiring buffoons.” The manager nods in agreement. Royer puts on a new pair of white gloves. “Show me your duvet covers. Something in a marimekko pippurikera sage.” The clerk nervously straightens her tie. “We don’t have that here. It’s…it’s online only.” There is a long, excruciating pause. Then Royer lets out a horrendous scream. He orders one of his guards to slice open a nearby ottoman with his pocket knife. The guard obliges.
Royer suddenly runs out of the store and comes to rest against a pillar in the concourse. Several guards follow, I stay behind with a third who settles the enormous bill. “As soon as they get those new snow villages open, he’ll be alright,” the guard assures me. “It’s a shame about them not having that duvet.” “Why not order it online?” I ask. “No, he doesn’t order anything online. He has theories.”
I carry one of the shopping bags– it is full of the broken wine glasses. I don’t ask why. The guards corral the limp, exhausted body of Royer and carry him to the van. “He’ll sleep for 15-16 hours now,” one says mysteriously. On the ride back to the home though, Royer surprises everyone by suddenly waking. He looks wordlessly at all of us, then very slowly reaches to the seat and eats several donuts in quick succession before collapsing again.
It has been quite a morning.
Win a Free Remote-Controlled Robot Contest!
It’s time again for The Lankville Daily News’ robot contest!
All you have to do to win this fabulous remote-controlled robot without guns (worth $77,000) is complete the official entry form at the bottom of this story. Tell us what you think the robot should be named and why it should be named that in 8 words or less! Then, mail your entry along with your name, address, age and type of car you own and where it’s normally parked to: LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS ROBOT CONTEST, 526 Yelling Street, Eastern Lankville, 2915. All entries must be postmarked by March 30, 2014. You may include your resume.
CONTEST RULES:
1. The contest is open to all residents of Lankville, the Outer Depths, the Desert Area and the Lankville Regional Islands.
2. Duplicate prizes (not robots) will be awarded in the event of a tie.
3. You may only enter ONCE. After that, your name will be permanently removed from our computers and we will no longer recognize you.
4. The scoring system is as follows:
-40% originality
-30% paper
-20% imagination
-10% restraint
————————CLIP WITH SCISSOR(S)——————————-
Name____________________________________________
Address________ Lankville_______ Zips__________
Age____ Health: Yes____ No______
The robot should be named___________________________
________________________________________________
________________________________________________
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man
By Chris Vitiello
File photo
HAMMY LAND: A DIGRESSION
Five years ago, at the advice of a now odious colleague, I opened “Hammy Land”, an amusement/theme park. A decorative ham mascot “Hammy” was created and his smiling visage became a common sight on t-shirts, ballcaps and elastic limb bands in and around Lankville. In its first two years of existence, “Hammy Land” netted nearly a billion (Lankville) dollars.
Hammy Land: Closed for “the Season”.
The incident which I am about to describe took place a little before Easter of the third year. Millions had gathered that holiday and we had created a special “crucifixion Hammy” cap that was flying off the shelves. Our cramped, airless, basement restaurant was packed day and night and the “throwing fields” (pastures where decorative hams could be hurled for sport) were constantly engaged. Late arrivals began complaining. “We cannot get a room at Vitiello Restrained Hotels, we cannot get a table at the restaurant, we cannot get on any of the rides,” they would say in their collective nasal groan. We had completely run out of crucifixion Hammy’s.
To our amazement, more vacationers continued to funnel in, even as the weekend approached its most welcome end. The complaints became louder, somehow more desperate and my arm and shoulder became weary from the endless required whippings. I remember the moment when I looked out over the filthy restaurant- the uncleared tables, the demanding throng still waiting in the lobby, the lost and crushed crucifixion Hammy hats on the fetid carpet. “NO!” I suddenly announced. Everything quieted. “GET OUT VERMIN!” I shouted again. Within minutes, I had a plan of action. “Hammy Land” would be no more. I removed immediately to my suite at the top of the hotel and gave instructions to a trusted coterie of administrators. They were to close the gates and shut down all operations. Lastly, they would let themselves out, leaving the keys.
The next morning, I walked the desolate and abandoned grounds. Idiotic detritus was everywhere. I tore down several homemade banners of Hammy on the cross. I came upon the main entrance and let myself out. I never looked back.
Two weeks later “Hammy Land” (at my command) was permanently shuttered. I had contemplated annihilation but thought better of it. Let it stand as a warning. A warning that I will not be tested.
Weeds have grown over the gates. It is still possible however to walk along the perimeter and occasionally find a clear view of the greying, fading restaurant or the paint-peeled roller coaster, its cars still in the middle of their last ride. It is possible. It is also possible that you will suddenly find yourself face to face with the owner of this ghost and that you will be whipped mercilessly for trespass.
It is best to remember Hammy Land in your mind.
Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.
By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
View of Hunt looking to the West.
File Photo
They dumped me off the bus in the Outlands. Some town called “Hunt”. It was a real fuck of a place.
There was a restaurant with a bunch of color panels on the front and an orange pitched roof, garish as all hell. They had some tables in there and a formica counter. The menu featured heavily-saturated photographs throughout and there was a legend and an index. I couldn’t make sense of any of it.
The waitress came over– typical corn-fed Outlands redhead, she was filling out her semi sheer Dacron polyester uniform like a champ.
“Coffee? Eggs? Toast?” she barked. She whipped out a notepad from her hip pocket but it fell to the floor. As she bent over to retrieve it, I got a quick look at the haunches. I noted that her onesie had a long zipper from the collar to the bottom hem. Be easy enough.
I lit a cigarette and she went off to put in my order. There were a couple of hotels around and a western shop and then nothing else but dust and asphalt surrounded by dead trees. The redhead came back with a plate that contained nothing I had ordered and coffee in a sauceboat. “We don’t got any clean cups,” she said. “The hose in the back is out.”
“Just leave it there.”
I walked out, ripped off the stained and filthy button-up and threw it in a garbage can. Walked into the western shop wearing nothing but an undershirt. I picked out a couple of satin snap fronts. “I’ll wear this one out,” I told the guy behind the counter.
Then I walked down and reserved a room. Two beds, carpeting, TV and telephone. Everything was paneled in ersatz wood. “Look at that grain,” the proprietor said, when he opened up the door for me. “That’s eastern grain.”
I went back into the restaurant.
“Your food’s cold now,” the redhead said. “I can’t warm it up. We don’t warm things up.”
“Let’s go. I got a room with carpet and TV. That space show is coming on in twenty minutes. Everybody out here likes that space show, right?”
She paused. “Yeah, we do like that space show.”
We walked down the dusty main street. The only street. The sun was fading.
“My husband is dead,” she remarked. “He was just trying to deflate some beach balls but they shot him anyway.” She had a strange, shuffling kind of walk.
“What kind of work did he do?” I asked disinterestedly. I was fiddling with the different snaps on the shirt front. She answered something about beach balls, I couldn’t make it out.
We watched the space show. There were some assholes that had gone off course and were headed for the sun. There was no logic to it. When it was over, she turned off the lights.
“This room, the bedspreads and the carpet, they’re all this bright green,” she said. “It’s giving me a headache.”
She disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear her throwing up in there. A fuck of a place I said to myself.
I went outside and walked by the pool. Nobody was around. There were only a few lights on in the entire town.
“Next bus is early, about six in the morning,” some guy called. He had on the same shirt as me.
A real fuck of a place I said again.
If You Want to Make This Gal Happy, Give Me a Photo of a Dog Emerging From a Yarn Basket
BY IDA RUMPUS The Lankville Society Scoop
Typical dog emerging from a yarn basket photograph.
File photo
If you want to make this gal happy, there is one thing you can do. Give me a photo of a dog emerging from a yarn basket. No matter how down in the dumpers [sic] I am, a dog emerging from a yarn basket makes me crack a smile every time. Particularly if the yarn is just spilling out on account of the displacement that occurs when the dog enters the basket and then some extra spilling that occurs when the dog emerges. It’s just so cute, it really is.
Most of the time, dogs don’t emerge from yarn baskets. Most of the time, when I open my yarn basket, I am simply greeted by yarn. Oftentimes, my boyfriend Glenn says, “You’re into that yarn basket again? Christ, it’s always in and out of that yarn basket.” But I know that even Glenn would find it adorable if a dog emerged from the basket. Even better, if upon opening the basket, the dog was revealed to be inside. I think that might be the cutest thing of all.
Anyway, if you’re ever on vacation, don’t send a postcard of a lake or a motel or some woods. Just send me a postcard depicting a dog emerging from a yarn basket. That makes me happiest of all.
Royer Pulls Up in Old Camper
By Brock Belvedere, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
Incarcerated business magnate Ric Royer pulled up in an old camper today, sources are reporting.
Witnesses stated that the camper was battered, rusted and full of holes but Royer proudly showed it off to passersby.
“He said he would be doing a lot camping in it,” noted witness Ghant Gaetti, who was given a tour of the mutilated vehicle. “I commented that the inside reeked of game and was moldy and wet besides but [Royer] just smiled and said he was going to do a lot of camping in it.”
“He pulled up in a very busy part of Lankville– in a handicapped spot and stood outside the camper for a long time, just grabbing anyone who would listen,” said another witness, who refused to be identified and was later shot by a gigantic, robotic camel. “He said that the camper came out of the barren west and that he was going to do a lot of camping in it.”
After some time, Lankville police ordered Royer to remove the camper and no further incidents were reported.
In Search of Aaron Tucker: A “Special” Piece
By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
file photo
Business magnate and sports team owner Aaron Tucker has agreed to meet me at Hoovers National Airport on his home island of Hoover. I’ve never heard of it. The plane ride is exceedingly long and tedious and I land slightly irritated and with a large sauce stain on my shirt.
I look around for Tucker but he has not yet arrived (he had promised to carry a gigantic sign with my name on it– “I’ll make it out of large posterboard,” he says excitedly over the phone). I watch the other passengers greet their spouses and girlfriends– many kiss or embrace passionately– several immediately fornicate. I hang around for an hour but Tucker does not show. The waiting area is now empty. An intercom announces, “Pumpkins. Pumpkins arriving.” I have no idea what to do.
I take a taxi to a nearby hotel and place a call to Tucker’s office. There is another long delay and finally a secretary with a hot voice snaps up the line. “I’m sorry sir, Mr. Tucker has gone to the airport to pick out a pumpkin.” I curse. “I was just at the airport.” “Well, I am sorry, sir.”
I decide to fish a bit.
“What does a pretty-sounding woman like you do in Hoover for nightlife?”
I meet the secretary in the hotel bar. She’s wearing a pencil skirt that is so tight that her fine heinie is clearly outlined. Two hours later, I’m rumpling that heinie upstairs. Afterwards, I take a look at some Hoover Island TV. It’s all shows about pumpkins. I can’t figure out what the hell is going on.
The phone rings. It’s Tucker.
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he says. “Jesus, I got all caught up with this pumpkin thing.” I can clearly hear him pushing a pumpkin in the background. I try to ask him a few questions about his business ventures but he’s clearly distracted by the pumpkins. “How many pumpkins you got there?” I ask, looking for something to put into my story. “Oh, it’s just…there’s a lot…we….” He drops the phone. There is a lot of laughing and then, sudden thunderous cheering.
I take the next plane out of there.
Our Man in America: Tips for the Lankville Traveler
Glass House Restaurant, Urbana-Champaign, Illinois
The Lankville Daily News is lusciously thrilled beyond measure to present a new series of travel tips from our correspondent in America.
By Rance Fenanigans
American Correspondent
Rance Fenanigans
The famous Glass House restaurant in Urbana-Champaign, Illinois (midwestern America) is known for its gigantic lollipop display; the discerning Lankville traveler will certainly want to make a stop here.
“I got the lollipop idea from how they have lollipops at the candy stores,” noted Glass House restaurant owner Jerry Yokely, who purchased the establishment in 1979. “I went out to the woodshed one night, put on a record of little jokes and built up that tree that you see there. The trees got them little holes in it and you slide the lollipop shafts in there. I rounded out the holes pretty good and generally the shafts go right in pretty easy.”
Yokely spat in the dirt.
The Glass House restaurant features an array of tempting American food– pancakes and waffles for breakfast, hamburgers and pepperonis for lunch and a full menu of dinner options. “We don’t got anything fancy– just food for Americans,” Yokely noted proudly. “And we’re located just off Interstate 41,” he added mysteriously.
Don Flesh of Urbana is a Glass House regular. “Oh, I just love it. The waitresses are kind, friendly, bosomy and motherly and there is carpet.”
Flesh paused and then suddenly screamed and had to be taken away.
“We got good girls here,” added Yokely, who spat in the dirt again. “We got an ample parking lot. Look at them phone booths over there. Plenty of options for the patrons.”
The Glass House is certified by the American Car League and is open 7 days.
An Interview with Robin Brox
By Gump Tibbs
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
GT: Haven’t heard much lately from the queen of Uncolored Condiments? What’s going on?
RB: Uncolored condiments sell themselves, Gump. The minute some asshole shoots yellow mustard all over a $10 shirt, the minute I have a new customer. I haven’t been in the office in weeks.
GT: You were married to [Lankville Daily News] reporter Marles Cundiff. What happened there?
RB: We’re in the process of divorcing. There wasn’t much meat on the bone, if you know what I’m saying Gump.
GT: And what about your hockey franchise? Second place. You happy with that?
RB: Who the hell is happy? You happy there Gumper?
GT(pauses): I’ve got some guns. Want to go shoot at the dumpster?
RB: Why the fuck didn’t you say so? Let’s get out of here.
(The interview was ended prematurely).
First Annual Vitiello Decorative Ham Plate Contest: ENTER NOW!
Vitiello Decorative Hams, Inc. is sponsoring their First Annual Ham Plate Contest. The winner will receive the plate pictured (food entirely decorative) and two tickets to the CAPADES. “This is an excellent opportunity for the no-purpose little people to win something that will look presentable on their gouged and unpolished non-wood tables,” noted founder and CEO Chris Vitiello. “It’s a new product we’ve been working on, a $250 value. And then there is also this capade business which I’m sure will entertain the sort of unsophisticated mind that enters contests in the first place,” Vitiello added.
To enter, use the form below and include two letters of recommendation, a personal statement, a statement of intent and a photographic ID to:
Vitello Hams
Box 14
Lankville, Capitol 0412
_______________________________FORM_____________________________
Name___________________________
Address________________________
# of Hams in Home______________ (if answer is none, you will be visited by Mr. Vitiello)
Real Life Cases of the Lankville Police Department
By Hugh G. Pickens
Crime Beat Reporter
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.
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.
SPECIAL TV UPDATE…..Inflamed by Stars and Blood
By Caramel Jameson
ISB Correspondent
The Lankville Broadcasting Corporation (LBC) will premier a fantastic new science fiction program on Sunday, March 4 that has been much anticipated. Penned by veteran space disaster novelist Brisk Frames, Asteroid Galaxy 3000 stars Lorne Concordance as Commander Bobby Shacks and the lovely Barbara Gotay as Lostatos the Venusian.
Concordance, who is lost in space, lands on a star of Venus in an attempt not only to refuel but also to straighten out his foam ball model of the universe (which has been bounced around a bit by the ride). He meets Lostatos who agrees to accompany him on a journey into the far unknowns. The sexual tension between Concordance and Lostatos is instantly palpable– thankfully, Lostatos has brought a furry little friend along– “Muffitts Four”, played by Little Jerry in his debut role.
Little Jerry as Muffitts Four.
It’s not all fun and games, however. In the first episode, the two space travelers come under attack by some deprogrammed aliens who have commandeered a fleet of space junk and are hell-bent on destroying anything in their path. Indeed, this they do– oddly, Concordance, Lostatos and Muffitts Four are destroyed in the first 20 minutes of the show by a series of heat-seeking space projectiles. “There seems to be little chance of them surviving,” notes TV critic George Forbidden. “They really get blown to hell and then the last 40 minutes of the show are just stills of different planets, asteroids, comets. There’s no narration or anything. Just the stills. Nobody is too sure what to make of it.”
Nevertheless, it should make for compelling television. Asteroid Galaxy 3000 will premier at 8 P.M., 9 P.M. mountains, 10 P.M. deserts. There is a non-color option broadcast for Hill People.
ACCOMMODATIONS
When staying in the Area Beyond the Outlands, pick the Murray. Friendly, creative staff, delightful beds, curtains. Phone Far Outlands 5-6712.
LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS: IN BOOK FORM!
The book is gone. It will never return. We hear stories but they are likely false. We live in the woods now. We make fire with a lighter that we found in the street. It was crushed by a truck but, somehow, perhaps through some intervention that is beyond us, it still works. We are waiting. We are waiting.
Original Pondicherry Association News promotional advertisement (2009)
TONIGHT ON TV! RICHARD AND THE POSTMAN REUNION SPECIAL!
The Hit program from the 1970's returns to Lankville TV tonight on LBC!
ADULT ADVERTISEMENT
Women all over Lankville are just sitting at mammoth computers waiting to hear from men like you! Just insert a floppy disk, write a (non-sexual) message and let the sparks fly! (Computer not included).
ADVERTISEMENT
A Vitiello Decorative Ham makes a great gift. Show that you care today.
BANDED DUFFELS ON PALLETS
Assorted colors. Whatever you want to do, man. Call Lankville Falls, 3247.
BRIAN SCHROPP IN THE LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS
The most important cuisine articles ever written.
CANDY
Jipps Co. Full Service Candy Counter! Our alert girls will push gummy drops into special paper sheaths, engage in restrained pleasantries and explain chocholate-to-nougat ratios. Call Central Lankville 3614.
CAT PHOTO
In compliance with Lankville subsection 11:16-4.
CHAMBERS CO. HAND DRILLS: When Electricity is Not an Option
When electricity is not an option consider the Chambers Company hand crank drills. Perfect for use in tight spaces, on distant islands or for drilling holes in fences to see TITS. Call 4-2309.
EMPLOYMENT
Big Ed's BBQ Shack is looking for a part-time waitress. Someone who doesn't nose around and ask a lot of difficult questions. Call Lankville Rougher Area, 5-2100.
EMPLOYMENT
Nuts, Ah! is looking for an experienced nut-handler. Experience with bagging nuts also important. If you break the nut sack, the nuts will drop onto the floor. Come in person for application to Twin Removed Pines Mall. NO CALLS.
FOX FOR PARTIES
Hire the Poetry Fox for Your Child's Next Party. Reasonable rates. Writes poems, dances, will not stand for any shenanigans. Call South Lankville 2009.
The funny stories of Dick Oakes, Jr. have thrilled millions. Look for them today in The Lankville Daily News!
GELSINGER’S ALLURE CLUB
Topless, bottomless wonderland. Mysterious back rooms. Carpeted entirely in astroturf. NO CALLS.
GREBOV BROTHERS TELESCOPE COMPANY
The Grebov Brothers are Lankville's finest purveyor of telescopes for astronomy enthusiasts. Substantial 4.5" apertures and fast f/4 focal ratios provide bright, detailed views of solar system targets like the Moon and planets, as well as wide-field celestial objects like nebulas and star clusters but also TITS.
GUMP PENETRATES
Only in The Lankville Daily News
HADBAWNIK HAUNTED STAIRCASE COMPANY
The Hadbawnik Company is Lankville's #1 installer of haunted, brush-littered staircases. Friendly non-foreign staff! Call Western (Outer) Lankville, 2154 or 2198 today.
HADBAWNIK HAUNTED BRUSH PILES!
The Hadbawnik Haunted Staircase Company is now offering haunted brush piles for use on your staircase. Create eerie, supernal ambiance. Allow the brush to blow haphazardly in the wind, creates fear, foreboding. Call our friendly staff of white people at Western Lankville, 2154. Brush piles may contain other forms of yard debris.
HEY! WANT A MONKEY?
Hey! Want a live little monkey? They do cute things like climb into pumpkins. Call "The Captain"- Central Lankville Hills, 5264.
HOME DUMP Your Neighborhood Hardware Store 16 Lankville Locations!
Weekly Special: Primitive Forged Hooks. Buy 4, Get a Can of Paint. Or Maybe Not. You'll Just Have to Find Out.
INFLAMED BY STARS AND BLOOD
Lankville's Premier Science Fiction and Horror Magazine Now Appearing in The Lankville Daily News!
JOHNNY PADRES, OPTICIAN
Lankville has been relying on Dr. Johnny Padres for their optical needs since 1973. We offer a full service family eye care center and provide examinations for glasses and contacts and have a large display of designer, traditional and innovative eyewear for both regular prescription eyeglasses and sunglasses all of which will enable you to see TITS better. Call Lankville Business 2618-2.
LIFE LESSONS FUNERAL HOME
Life Lessons Funeral Home has been helping Lankville with dead people since 1932. Contact Eddie or Stummins, Lankville Business, 5-2161.
LOOK AT THESE BEAUTIES!
Really some of our best ever! Have you ever seen anything like it? Call Kelly (male) at Lankville Sound 2615.
MISSING
Missing: adult penguin. Christ, I just let him out in the yard for one minute and now he's gone. Responds to the name "Richard". Call Lankville Eastern Outlands, 5-6213.
NOW PLAYING!
The Unhinged: A New Film by Tom "Vapor" Rayford. Crisp Street Cinema, Eastern Lankville
PINEAPPLE CITY: A New Way of Being
Pineapple City is a new way of being, feeling and having your shirt off. Located in the distant, barren Lankville Pines, Pineapple City is now accepting applications for sheds. Call PINES, 2-5771.
THE PUZZLER
In the pie chart above, what segment represents a certain specific strata of the general population?
REAL ESTATE
Little shed for sale. With door, mailbox, dirt plot. Site of multiple murders but don't worry, they happened around back. To inquire, come to the shed. Go around back.
REAL ESTATE
Four acre lot in Eastern Lankville Cove Area. Price reduced! Site of a fireworks display in which several people fell out of their lawnchairs and died. Locals believe it haunted but that's crap. Call Cove 2751.
THE RECKONER EXACTRA 2.0 : A Danny Madison Product
It's Your Time: CALCULATE
SARAH SAMWAYS: CONTRIBUTING FEMALE
Exclusively in the Lankville Daily News (and some other papers).
SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT
Robin Brox will sit around and get progressively more intoxicated while listening to this other broad natter on about something. LANKVILLE REGIONAL AUDITORIUM, August 4, 11PM.
SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT CANCELED
The Dr. M. Chambers speech and candy-making event has been canceled again following Dr. Chambers' sudden collapse into some baskets. New date TBA
TRAVEL TIPS by Randy Hammers
The Kum Back Inn in the Lankville Desert Area has long been serving road-weary travelers. They feature a restaurant (with cocktails) and two spacious conference rooms. The Kum Back boasts 65 units-- each including window dressing, some chairs and a larger chair (seats two smallish children), a bed with orange comforter, a plastic trash can, clever paintings, and a windowless door. TV also available in 17 (sometimes 19) rooms. Most of the rooms are air-conditioned. Oscillating fans available upon request. Illuminated carports will protect your vehicle from the vicious sudden dust storms that often overtake the Desert Area and the wild thieves that occasionally parade across the landscape like some unmentionable horror. Call now at TU-0780 and ask for Bud or Karen (married).
UTILITY YARD SHEDS
The Lowinger Brothers offer great utility yard sheds at low prices. This one is haunted. Call Lankville Port Area 1072.
VACATION PACKAGES!
Spectacular vacations in campers by little mountains. Your cares will melt away but you will have to be careful of that shack (pictured). A lunatic lives there. Call Mercantile District 2711.
WRESTLING TONIGHT!
8PM, Southern Lankville Man-Arena. Featuring Ric "Wild Boy" Tipps (green trunks).
ZACH KEEBAUGH INVESTIGATIONS
Only in The Lankville Daily News
The Lankville Daily News 
LETTER SACK