Feelings by Dr. Kevin Thurston
By Dr. Kevin Thurston
Special Correspondent
File Photo
Dr. Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.
There are some men who are unable to feel.
I met such a man once in a basement. He was angry over the presence of some dung beetles and he set about murdering them with a hammer. I said, “these are specimens from Our Creator, whoever he or she may be. Do not destroy them. Embrace them.” “Go sit in that yellow chair and wait,” he said. I did but I wasn’t particularly pleased with the situation. It suddenly grew dark. With each hammer blow, I felt my soul weeping.
It’s important to massage your soul. This can be done with some wet towels though I don’t recommend a self-application. Treat yourself for just $39.99 to a “Thurston Soul Rolfing”. While you’re here, you can look over some of my other items. Pair of roller skates, size 9, $19.99, a ream of vellum paper, $15.99. There’s a whole bunch of stuff here.
I’ll light some candles and darken the room. The room is already dark anyway because of those thick glass blocks that prevent the theft of electronics and collectibles but I’ll still darken the room and also put on some prearranged tapes of the sound of it raining out. These are $5.99 each, now on special.
Then, I’ll thoroughly explain the soul massage. It’s not painful– it’s beautiful and even sensuous. If you want it to be. You need to let me know beforehand.
Your soul cleansed, you will walk out onto the street a new man (or woman, but you need to let me know beforehand). You’ll see things differently. Your aura will be your own protective and yet welcoming bubble of floating, moving spirituality. The spirituality moves like magnified cells or sperm– moving, moving, moving, continuing to cleanse everything and all.
Call now. We do not accept insurances but will be happy to look at your card.
Royer Uses Strange Foreign Machine to Soil Van with Sugar
By Bernie Keebler
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
Terrifying Bat GM Ric Royer has soiled his recently-repaired van with a foreign powdered sugar machine that was delivered this morning to the Foontz-Flonnaise Home of Abundant Senselessness.
“I don’t know why we let him do that,” said Warden Jenness, who was supervising the vast clean-up. “This crazy gigantic machine arrived this morning in about five separate boxes. We tried to move them into the hall but [Royer] came out of nowhere and kicked one of our college interns in the face about five times really fast. Then, he pushed the boxes himself over towards the van and started ripping them apart. The next thing I know, he’s got this ridiculously huge contraption set up and he moves this big outtake pipe over to the van’s cab and just shoots the damn thing full of powdered sugar. Then he went back to his room.”
“We’ve got a real mess here,” noted a cleaner, who refused to be identified and was later kicked in the face by Royer.
“Yes, the machine was foreign,” Royer answered when questioned. “It comes from a land-locked nation whose name I cannot pronounce. It’s very far from here. It’s illegal in Lankville.”
When asked why he wanted the machine, Royer quickly explained.
“This machine has a specific crushing hammer and sieve for finer grinding. I elected to go with the double-head version which produces between 2,600 and 3,300 pounds per hour, unheard of in Lankville. There is a vibrating passage which leads to the outtake mechanism. It’s important to have a large canister to catch the product.”
When asked why he did not have such a canister and instead sprayed sugar all over his van’s interior, Royer became confused.
“It’s all a question of where the fried dough is, Bernie,” he said, his voice betraying much consternation. “No need to engage in any of your tricks at my expense.”
The exterior of the van, damaged in a recent accident, has been repaired. Cleaners expected the cab to be cleaned by evening.
An Interview with “Inner Hammer”
BY IDA RUMPUS The Lankville Society Scoop
File photo
Ida Rumpus sat down with Small Pizzas GM “Inner Hammer” outside his hotel suite in the Teets Island Chain.
IR: You’ve not been very visible lately. Trying to stay out of the limelight?
IH(squeezing a wet washcloth slowly over his head): Much has happened.
IR: Anything you’d like to tell The Lankville Society…
(Inner Hammer suddenly stood up and expelled an erratically moving torrent of urine in the direction of the ocean)
IH: What I have to tell would serve nothing but to foster a spiritual brain-tangling in the minds of your disenfranchised readers.
IR: I sense a great change has come over you.
IH: Yes. An exalted, almost astral change. However, I would still like to fix your bare ass in an unoccupied vertical position in space and torque it like a jenny.
IR: The hotelkeeper claims that you spend great periods of time in the jungle. Tell us about that.
IH: When you traverse the byways of your little life– going in and out of little shops and into your little office, do you ever come upon a vast, limitless jungle?
IR: No.
IH: There is your answer. (Inner Hammer suddenly stood up and expelled a second, more vicious stream of urine into the sand).
IR: Thank you.
IH: This heat. This heat precludes fleshly gratitude.
The interview suddenly collapsed.
Animal Rights Groups Incensed by Royer Comment
By Brock Belvedere, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
Animal rights groups have begun protesting outside Memorial Yea! Keepsake Auditorium, home ice of the Terrifying Bats, incensed over a recent comment made by owner Ric Royer.
“I made a simple statement,” noted Royer from his room at Foontz-Flonnaise Home of Abundant Senselessness. “And that was to express my desire to cut off a giraffe’s head, mount it on a funny, spinning pinwheel and have it installed in the front yard of one of my vacation homes. The furor that has resulted from this comment is very boring. I’m bored now.”
Royer began nervously placing a fluffy white substance about the roads of his illuminated porcelain village.
“It’s snowing now,” he explained.
Two groups are said to be spearheading the protest including the Lankville Society for Animal Niceties and the Central Lankville Zoo Happiness Committee.
“[Royer’s] comments are absolutely outrageous,” said a protester who refused to be identified and was later murdered by the creeping menace from the dark bowels of the universe. “The LSAN and the CLZHC have joined together in solidarity against this cruelty.”
“I am not cruel,” Royer stated after being apprised of the comments. “Giraffes are very funny and their heads would look funny spinning on a pinwheel. It’s an aesthetic choice, really.”
The embattled executive suddenly produced a gigantic leaf blower. With a flick of a switch, a loud gust whisked away the fluffy white substance.
“The snow melted,” Royer explained.
The protest is expected to continue throughout the day.
Royer Takes Van to Refreshment Hut
By Salty Cubbes
Sedentary Reporter
File Photo
Terrifying Bat GM Ric Royer was permitted to drive his new van to a refreshment hut yesterday evening, sources are now reporting.
“He was heavily supervised and a second steering wheel had been installed for safety purposes,” noted Warden Jenness of the Foontz-Flonnaise Home of Abundant Senselessness, where Royer has been incarcerated for most of the year. “The incident, which we could not anticipate, is regrettable.”
Sources are confirming that Royer accelerated onto the grass and drove through three picnic tables. No one was harmed.
“I was getting out of the van because he had parked,” said an attendant, who refused to be identified and was later hanged for his role in the incident. “All of the sudden, he hit the gas and just drove straight through the patio. He laughed and laughed and laughed.”
Royer issued a brief statement.
“I ordered an ice cream that was topped with a bundle of little nuts. It was a delight.”
According to Warden Jenness, the van is currently being repaired.
“There was some body damage. I think maybe some nozzles and discs were broken.”
Feelings by Dr. Kevin Thurston
By Dr. Kevin Thurston
Special Correspondent
File Photo
The Pondicherry Association News is pleased to present a new column by Dr. Kevin Thurston, expert on men’s feelings.
I’d like you to start by envisioning yourself sitting at a picnic table painted red. For a very long time, you will not be able to see anything because they’ve taken out the normal windows and put in those big gigantic glass blocks that prevent people from stealing things like electronics and collectibles. It’s funny, I had an apartment once that had those kind of blocks and it caused a certain sort of mental instability even though I had no electronics at all and no collectibles and I told the man that. But he had the blocks put in and it became impossible to look out and judge the sort of day it was or what was going on in the street (there were frequent beatings and parties) and there was a sort of mania that crept in and I had a little table in the kitchen that I’d eat at and that was gone one day but I’m getting ahead of myself.
You want to enter the very tipps [sic] of that mania and then, suddenly, the entire wall with those horrid big glass blocks will disappear and you will be looking out upon a beautiful beach scene at dusk and you will hear that lovely sound of waves, surf and those birds they have. Let everything enter your body and let it out and then let it enter again. You can also let it out again if you’d like but that’s your choice.
For $29.99, I have a tape that can also be played while you’re performing this exercise which is known in some circles as the Thurston Movements. It’s very light organ music set to “mandolin”. I made the music myself on an organ that I built myself from a box from a foreign country. It came with a wood case and has two full octaves. If you want the organ, I can let it go for $49.99.
The “Feelings” of Dr. Thurston will continue in future installments.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man
By Chris Vitiello
File photo
I have no memory of any mother figure.
It is said though that my mother is still alive. She lives alone in the distant provincial town of Heaves, far north beyond the Dietz Mountains. A man (we will call him Klobedanz) recently was interviewed for the position of semi-post-production foreman at the factory and while viewing his two personal statements, I happened to notice the name.
“You are from Heaves?” I demanded. He shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Yes, I went to school there and graduated…”
“No,” I stopped him. “There is no need whatsoever for me to understand your sordid personal history, Mr. Klobedanz.”
Later, however, I returned to the statement. You should consider hiring me because I have Lankville small-town values. I come from Heaves, where people help each other do things like fix tires. They will gather around in large groups of ten, twenty and horn in on your tire to the point that you get pushed back into the dirt and can no longer feel the wrench. You can no longer see your car or understand anything. And, later, they will throw a picnic and there might be cold pies, a ham and often some dough pockets.
I tossed it away (indeed, Klobedanz was not hired) and consulted a booklet brought to me earlier by a research assistant. ABOUT HEAVES it was called, an ancient side-stapled pamphlet in simple block lettering. There was an advertisement for a feed store on the back cover and a small map inside showing the main street and the few ancillary roads that ended abruptly at what appeared to be wheat or perhaps alfalfa fields (the legend was unclear). A cemetery and Fluid Fellows Hall were crudely noted by a vastly untalented artist. Though that artist was likely deceased, I had a fervent desire to whip him.
I grew determined. It was late, approaching midnight, but I selected an appropriate vehicle from the garage and made the seven-hour drive without stopping. I reached Heaves at dawn.
It was grim and utterly silent. There was not a single operable storefront– it was as though the town had been crassly and suddenly abandoned. Nothing was boarded; it was indeed possible to view dark interiors with little more than a forgotten broom, the remnants of a chair or an enormous but renounced stuffed panda inside. Standing on the sodden wood porch of a former general store, I looked out on the hamlet and its odious hill houses with nothing but rancorous outrage.
I chose a street– white, cracked cement forming a byway to nowhere. The occasional wood frame house– ramshackle centenarians– stared back at me. Soon, I found my first inhabitant of Heaves, a tiny, barrel-chested old man in a blue bathrobe, attempting to feebly bend over to pick up a paper. I swiftly grabbed it out of his reach and held it to my chest.
“Look at me, old man,” I said. “Look closely at my face.”
“What?” He blinked in the sunlight. He was entering an area vastly beyond his understanding.
“I asked you to look closely at my face. Study it. Do it now.”
He issued a few more senseless utterances.
“You will not achieve the satisfaction of this newspaper if you do not do as I say.”
He tried. Minutes passed.
“Now. There must be a woman here. An older woman. There must be a resemblance, you understand? Tell me.”
I waited. There was an endless period of deep confusion.
“Do not just tell me something I want to hear old man,” I warned. I showed him the whip then. He seemed to focus.
He described a nearby address. I looked down at the paper. Heaves Regional Gazette.
“I will give this to you now, old man. Atrocious prose awaits you.”
It required a simple right turn on the main street and then onto an overgrown dead end side street. The house was the last on the north side– it was a crumbling bungalow with missing cedar shingles. Dead plants lined the rails of the front porch. An overturned bird bath covered with a deflated Easter decoration filled the cramped front yard.
I stared up at the lace-curtained bedroom window. “You are there. That is enough. It will soon become clear.”
I deposited myself in a filthy wicker chair that creaked monstrously with even the slightest movement.
I would wait.
Every Town Should Have a Hill with a Cannon
By Fingers Rolly
Man on the Street
File photo
I’m not fucking around here. Put a cannon on a hill in every god damn town. Stop shitting us.
If you don’t have a hill, build one. What the fuck are all these yellow fancypants asshole machines sitting around for? Put ’em to work.
When that sonuvabitch is in place at the top of your new grassless hill, you let me know. Don’t come out to the house though. That asshole of a desert. Best leave it alone. And don’t send no mother-of-shit letter either. Those fuckheads.
But I want to feel that aged cast iron. And then I want to scream at that fuckhead desert.
You let me know.
Former Owner and Reporter Pennies Presumed Dead
By Bernie Keebler
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
Former hockey executive and Pondicherry Association News reporter Dr. Pennies is presumed dead according to a report released today by Lankville detectives. Dr. Pennies has not been seen for months.
“He has a third cousin who he hadn’t got around to killing yet and that third cousin asked us to investigate,” noted Detective Gee-Temple who consented to a brief press conference. “We went to Dr. Pennies’ apartment, knocked on the door for awhile and got no answer. Despite the horrendous, overpowering, permeating stench of darkest death in the hallway, we elected to leave the premises and are now operating on the presumption that the former reporter has expired.”
Dr. Pennies was last seen in Pondicherry Association News offices in February of this year.
“As I mentioned before, he came into the break room with a vicious look of purpose on his face,” stated senior staff writer Grady Kitchens. “He cooked a lasagna in the microwave at extremely high temperatures for an extremely long time until the lasagna combusted. He looked at us all very closely and carefully and then left the room, never to be seen again. I certainly think he was trying to communicate something.”
“He had a strange way of sort of barreling down on things, sort of moving very quickly despite his size towards some goal, the sort of goal that would not be achievable for most men,” remembered senior staff writer Nient Boffo. “He tried to kill me several times. I think he could have but decided at the last minute not to. I have not yet processed any of it.”
Catching Up with John Barlow: AN INTERVIEW
By Gump Tibbs
Senior Staff Writer
File photo
Gump Tibbs recently had a chance to sit down with hockey executive, businessman and author John Barlow at the opening of “Barlow’s Hampered Mall” in downtown Lankville.
GT: What is a Hampered Mall?
JB: It’s a mall that is severely bereft of actual stores. Therefore, the shopper is quite hampered in his ability to purchase anything.
GT: Tell us about the construction.
JB: It’s a wonderful place. There is a terrific sense of proportion with the fountains.
GT: Now, I saw some women working in the tiny food court that were not exactly nice scenery if you know what I mean. One of them looked like an ironing board with fried eggs nailed on. Any thoughts on improving things on that front?
JB: All of our hiring is done by a company in the Islands. I’m not surprised that they have disappointed you. I was there once and noticed dried dung in the carpet.
GT: Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Hey, you wanna go fire some guns at some trees?
Barlow thought about the offer momentarily and then the two men got up and left the mall together. The interview was ended.
Woman in a Man’s Game
By Robin Brox
File photo
I decided to check out Pineapple City.
I chartered a plane over some stupid forest and came down in the Eastern city of Arbisonia. There was a driver waiting for me with a handwritten sign that said BOX. I didn’t make a big deal of it.
“You gonna’ drive me all the way out to Pineapple City?” I asked.
“Yeah. Two hours.” He didn’t turn around.
I dumped a big bag of pills and a six-pack on the seat. “I’m gonna’ make a time of it, then.”
“Suits me.” He put on some terrible music without asking.
It seemed like the next thing that happened was that we were pulling into a gas station. The driver nudged me awake. “That’s Pineapple City up there,” he said, pointing east. I seemed to have a vague memory of the driver stopping for a long period of time, then a milk crate being dumped beside me. It seemed to contain long plastic containers full of some sort of green substance. I recall the driver on a cell phone. “Yeah, I got a big box for ya. It’s finely-ground and nonmagnetic and you can layer it to create a natural realistic scene.” There was a pause. “Nah, it’s foolproof. And they only had the putty in the pints.” Another pause. “IN THE PINTS. Yeah, that’s bullshit.” The rest of the ride was a blur.
The driver didn’t seemed interested in taking me into town. He sat down on a bench and smoked a cigarette, started chatting up some guy in overalls. I got my suitcase out of the trunk and walked down the old Interstate. There were only a few wood frame buildings here, raw and weather-beaten. Then I saw the sign. “PINEAPPLE CITY”. A little hippie was standing there was his shirt off.
“Are you Miss Box?” he asked, excitedly. He extended his hand. It was calloused and bony. That’d be alright. He showed me to my room– just a pile of boards and a single bed with a handmade quilt on it. “You make that quilt?” I asked jokingly. “Yes, I assisted,” he answered proudly. “All chores are shared here in Pineapple City. There are no pre-assumed gender rules. Men make quilts, women fix cars, everything is equal. Every morning, we all gather in the grains…”
I stopped him.
“You put ’em in a sack?”
He seemed confused. “Yes, we have sacks.”
“And then you empty your sacks?” I snickered.
“I don’t understand.”
“Skip it. What the Christ is for dinner?”
“Come. I’ll show you the dining hall.”
“Nah, fuck that,” I said, suddenly annoyed. “Order me a pizza. Meat Enthusiasts with extra cheese.”
“Oh, Miss Box, we don’t…there is no meat here and we don’t order, well, we don’t order any town food.”
I got the next bus out of there.
Updates From Royersford
By Brock Belvedere, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
File Photo
9:53 AM
I’d like to welcome you to Royersford in Eastern Lankville. Royersford was named after Terrifying Bats owner and GM Ric Royer. He owns a summer home here and is a member of the borough council.
Thanks very much for your attention.
11:25 AM
Just now, Mr. Royer has finished addressing the citizens of Royersford in an area of scrubland east of the train station. A small dais with colorful bunting was erected.
Temperature is a perfect 75 degrees.
7:13 PM
Mr. Royer had a late dinner last night at “The Lucky Lab” restaurant. He ordered the “Loaded Pub Nachos”– a pile of tri-colored tortilla chips with melted cheeses, some olives and a tubular-shaped side of sour cream. This was followed by “The Fry Basket”, the Burgundy Tenderloin Medallions, the Shrimp Etouffee, and a hot dog.
Then, it was off for some television and then bed.
Screaming at the Desert: A Primer
By Fingers Rolly
Man on the Street
File photo
You set up your chair and put the blinds up. Needs to be before dawn. Make yourself a pot of shitbird coffee– that asshole kind of coffee that comes in a god damn big can. You peel off the metal top and you get hit with that blast of fucking air. People think that means freshness– I’ll tell you what that means. It means LIES.
The sun’s going to come up over the butte. You’ll notice the shadows first. That’s when you start.
You don’t want to blow your voice out early. Start with a low, doleful moan. You need to sell that shit though. Don’t go half-assed. Go half-assed and, god as my witness, I’ll take you out back myself and kick your dick in.
Build slowly to a crescendo. By lunchtime, you should be at full blast. They should be able to hear you for miles. Make that asshole of a desert cringe– shake a cactus to its mother of a whore core. Don’t let anybody get away with anything. Show that pisspit of a desert what it means to have to account for itself.
Slow down by evening. Rest.
Then repeat the next day.
Oral Histories of Some Former Lankville Pugilists
By Andypop Lennus (1952-1953, 3W 10L, 1KO)
File photo
I worked at a lunch counter in the daytime and boxed at night. Everyone went to Fuller’s Gym. Fuller hated everybody. Would hardly let you in the place. He sat up on a raised platform and would throw trash at you. Terrible guy.
They farmed me out to the Islands and I boxed there for awhile. That was in the late 40’s or thereabouts. I did some commercials for soup. I’d sit there with my gloves on and try to grip a spoon and I’d say, “look at this soup” and then some music would come on. Made more on that than I ever did in the ring.
When I came back to Lankville, I found that I had lost something. A sort of philosophical spirit had vacated my body and perhaps taken refuge in some caves because after that I had no ability whatsoever. I searched and searched for that spirit but never found it. I ended up in the desert for a long time.
So, there’s not much to say about it. I won 3 fights. I had one knockout. I got all my clothes for free by answering questions about the kind of car I’d like to have. That went on for many years. More years than I’d care to remember.
Lennus suddenly passed away.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man
By Chris Vitiello
File photo
My first automobile was a 1978 Neptune Conquest which I purchased myself from funds accrued working summer night shifts at a rural lumber yard. It was orange with an exceedingly flat hatchback, bronze colored rims and a deep chasm in the dash where a glove box had once been. “We took the glovebox out years ago,” said the yokel, who had left the vehicle exposed to the elements in a field of alfalfa. “My wife, who is dead, would not stand for it. She was not one for hidden compartments.” He spit and then ate a pickle which he produced from his pocket. “But she is dead now and we forded a river to take her home.”
I could no longer tolerate him. “Take the money,” I said, as the fury mounted. “Help me get this to the road.”
A few hours later, I pulled into a popular area taco stand. Though I later taught myself impenetrable methods of self-control, at that time I was young and concupiscent. I leaned against the car and some girls came up in short dungarees, rolled up in-line with the panties.
“Got a new car, Chris?” said one, a brunette named Shelley with large aviator glasses that I knew instantly to be fake. “It’s got a flat back. Flattest I’ve ever seen.” She was aroused.
“It’s a 1978 Neptune Conquest,” I said, hating myself for it. But it immediately impressed them all as I knew it would.
“Let’s take a ride,” said Shelley. “Do you know Twin Carnal Trees Drive-In? They’re showing Thergos 2015 tonight. It’s erotic.”
And so it was. A pornographic drive-in theatre nestled in a shallow grove and Shelley’s hand down my fashionable gym shorts. I leaned back and looked up at the dome light. It was cracked. I silently cursed the yokel. I reached down and attempted to move the seat back. It wouldn’t budge. Nor would it incline. I would get even.
I focused on the film. There was a man dressed like a clown in a dirt clearing and some shabby wooden structures that looked like deer blinds. Suddenly, there would be an unannounced oral scene. It was very confusing. But I moved like the actor and before long there was climax. Shelley asked for a napkin.
“There are only thin ones,” I noted. “Even when stacked together, they provide little in the way of absorbency,” I added.
We watched the rest of the film in silence.
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