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Are Garden Hoses Safe? A Zach Keebaugh Investigation
Zach Keebaugh
Scenario: you’re out watering your backyard garden. The sun starts to beat down. That ribbed, poly/cotton blend tank is starting to feel like an oven, you’re thirsty, irritable, maybe even angry. And right in front of you, man– cool water flowing out of your hose like some sort of heavenly mountain stream. It’s right there for the taking. Why not stoop down and make it yours? Pump that shit into your mouth and quench that insatiable thirst? Yo, why the hell shouldn’t you, man?
Because many experts are now saying that it is unsafe to drink from a garden hose, that’s why. They say that hoses can be made of dangerous chemicals like lead and some weird-ass chlorides that can fuck you up eight ways to Sunday. You could end up sterile, impotent, unable to talk much or even dead.
But is it true? I aimed to find out. I am Zach Keebaugh: Investigative Reporter.
First, I spoke to Lankville Tubing Safety Department official Les Tights.
“Yo, man. I drink from hoses all the time. What’s up?”
Looks nice but what the hell? Is it safe?
“Well, Zach, lead from the hoses can often leach into the water supply, causing all sorts of problems with birth defects, dying, sterility, impotence and general sexual disinterest. And while notice of this is now required on all packaging for commercial hoses, we all know that generally people tear off the packaging quickly, as they, of course, are quite excited about owning a new hose. Our research indicates that most packaging doesn’t even make it home. Most people tear it straight off in their cars, sometimes even immediately after purchasing while they’re still in line at the hardware store. So, basically, the warnings don’t get read.”
“Sure, sure. But let’s get back to the meat here, man. You telling me that a guy drinks from a hose and then, BAM, the next morning he ain’t pitching tent?”
Tights grew confused. I grew skeptical.
So, I visited a couple of hose salesmen. First off, the traditional ol’ green standby at my local Home Dump. Just as Tights mentioned, I saw the tiny warning label on the packaging. I questioned an employee who asked to remain anonymous (we’ll call her Gail Throneberry). Turns out Gail and I hit it off pretty good. She invited me out back of the Home Dump to watch her drink some beers.
“Hey Gail- man, what about these hoses?” I probed.
“Oh, right. Listen baby, these expand, like out to certain distances. I forget. Shit.” She took another pull on the beer. I had a soda that Gail pinched for me from the employee freezer.
“Are they safe?”
“What? Sure, sure. These…we got medium duty and heavy duty, you know, according to expected use. What do you expect to use these for, Zach, baby? You got yourself some seeds baby? Want Mama to water ’em for you?”
Traditional hose salesman Gail Throneberry.
Throneberry collapsed into some empty cardboard boxes. But I had my answer.
Next, I consulted with organic hose dealer Ray Sunshine, who operated a garden supply center near Pineapple City. He showed me all the different lead-free hose options.
“All of our hoses meet LSF standards, are lead-free, recycled and resist kinking. These are the best hoses you can buy in Lankville, Zach.”
“But are they safe?” I probed.
“Absolutely. We stand behind them.”
“Let me give you a scenario, Ray. I’m watering a bunch of bullshit in the backyard. I start to get hot and sweaty. I take my shirt off but I’m still hot. I’m getting sunburned. I feel like hell. I’m hungry. I’m depressed. Maybe a little bit horny. Feel like a drink of water might help. I’m looking at the water coming out of one of your organic hoses. So, yo, man! Can I drink that water?”
“Absolutely. You can feel 100% safe in drinking water from our hoses.”
I was convinced. Even picked up two hoses despite the fact that I got no backyard and live in a shitbox of an apartment above the knives and puzzles shop.
So, here’s your conclusion readers. Pick up a hose with LDA-approved materials and that are clearly labeled “drink safe”. Make sure you read the label before you buy (I know, I know, everyone gets excited as all shit over a new hose but be patient). Taking that little extra time could ultimately safe your life.
Or, here’s another option. Drink from the god damn sink, yo. Don’t be a baboon.
This has been a Zach Keebaugh Investigative Report
Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.
Dick Oakes, Jr.
Dr. Yothers peeled off the gauze bandages. I let out a muffled cry. Then the air hit my legs and I let out another.
“Chrissakes, I’ve tried everything, Doc. Gone near to broke with these creams and lotions from the god damn pharmacies.”
He poked the weeping sores with a tongue depressor. He leaned back in his little swivel chair and thought about it. Then, he leaned too far and fell flat on his ass. The chair went scuttling off into some dark corner of the filthy office. Who knew what the hell to make of it?
“Mr. Oakes, the pharmacies– they deal in mere parent medicines. They are the snake charmers of the modern era.” He giggled strangely.
“You mean patent medicines, Doc?”
“No matter.”
He was a squat shithouse of a man in a worn white lab coat. There were bleach discolorations all over the damn thing. But he moved nimbly.
He tore an entire drawer straight out of the battered desk. It was full of pills.
“The mind is set at ease Mr. Oates on the fate of humanity when one contemplates the great work of the pharmaceutical companies of Lankville.” He giggled again strangely. “Just think of the selfless research that went into the creation of all these marvelous concoctions.” He ran his hand over the pills. I stared down at the myriad of colors. Many weren’t even in bottles. I couldn’t figure on any of it.
“You got anything in there that’ll clear this up, Doc?”
“Oh, there MUST be,” he said. But he continued to hold the drawer in his lap, staring mindlessly out of the long-uncleaned picture window. You could see the tops of the skyscrapers far in the distance.
I picked up a bottle. Some long senseless brand name. The expiration date was November of 1998. I read the patient name– Herm Mount-Vince.
“Oh, he died,” Yothers said. “There used to be a file on him but I believe it was swept away. We have these foreign people that come in and clean up.”
I looked around. There were ancient sauce spots on the linoleum floor. There was an area in the corner where it looked like a cat had thrown up.
“Yeah, when the hell was that, Doc? November of 1998?”
He giggled.
“Anyway, Mr. Oakes. These are what they call “antibiotics”. I prefer another term but that’s another story. I would try these for two weeks. The sores will clear up and you will find that you have clear, rubbery skin again. It will be good for you. And for me.”
He handed over the bottle. There was no label at all on this one. The pills were green.
“Do you have twenty dollars?” he asked suddenly.
It had been awhile since I looked in my wallet. I decided to bluff.
“I’ll pay you next time, Doc. Let’s see if this horse medicine works first.”
“Fair enough.” He giggled. “I wonder what became of my little swivel chair. Do you remember?”
I stared at him a moment. “Over there, Doc. Remember? You fell clean off it.”
“Of course.” He smiled mildly. “What an affair this has been.” He giggled again.
I got the hell out of there.
Cheese Falls on Royer
Elliott Cumber-Lanny
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Some nacho cheese fell on Lankville business magnate Ric Royer last night.
Royer’s condition is unknown.
“What we had here was a situation where some cheese fell on [Royer],” noted Detective Gee-Temple, who was the first to arrive on the scene. “The How’s, What’s, Why’s, they are unknown to us at this time.”
Some crickets chirped loudly. It grew darker.
“There could be a time in the near-future when we will be able to update you further,” Gee-Temple added.
A curious beam of light briefly illuminated the detective’s darkened office, then vanished.
Can you give us an idea if the cheese was hot?
Royer with the cheese on his head.
It was an aberrant, high-pitched voice– unknown, unseen. Its preternatural quality was clearly a monstrosity. And yet, it refused to come forth from whatever abominable realm from which it spoke.
“We do not know that. How could we?” Gee-Temple answered. But this was no longer his dominion. He possessed no earthly right to converse within this nightmarish dimension.
Someone stepped forward. He was a reporter, yes– we recognized him and, yet, we did not.
“Eons ago, unimaginable eons ago,” he began, “when only the waters existed. And from this foul, hateful slime there came a race of beings which dwelt in the sunken abysses of the oceans, inhuman creatures bound to the worship of inhuman Gods. When the great continent arose and the islands arose, then these revolting creatures sunk deeper into the lowest depths. They hate man, for they feel that man has usurped their kingdom. Their power will eventually embrace all the continent, all the islands. They will achieve their desire.”
“Who are you?” demanded Gee-Temple.
The reporter laughed. “I work for another paper. I’ll see you guys later.”
After he left, it grew darker. “I’m going to put a tail on that guy,” Gee-Temple said, after a long period had passed.
We set out into that darkness.
We have wandered all night.
Famed “Pizza Disturbance” Closes After 61 Years
Buck Igloos
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
The “Pizza Disturbance”, a famed Eastern Pines restaurant, has closed after 61 years.
“We were a beacon for pizza enthusiasts,” noted manager Crease Sandborn, who inherited the business from his father. “But now that run is over. It’s time to prepare. To prepare for death.”
Calls to the old phone number went directly to a recording thanking its loyal customers and also admitting to several murders.
The property, which featured a carry-out window, a sit-down bar, and balloons, has been sold to Sensational Mons Entertainments, a developer and amusement park concern.
“I can confirm the purchase of the property that formerly housed The Pizza Disturbance,” said Sensational Mons representative Al Heffler. “But I have absolutely nothing further to add to your story. Eventually, a placard will be put up. But you’ll have to wait.”
The site of “The Pizza Disturbance” before Brian Schropp set it on fire.
Sandborn, now 82, is planning a move to the Islands.
“The Islands seems like a good place to die,” he stated.
A small gathering of pizza enthusiasts assembled at the location in the Eastern Pines Business District to mourn.
“I loved the Pizza Disturbance,” noted Lankville Daily News cuisine writer Brian Schropp. “Mr. Sandborn said that I was the goofiest-looking person he had ever seen before shoving slices at me on a grease-soaked paper plate. So, there was that old world charm that you don’t really get at the modern places.”
Schropp lit a candle in memory. The building immediately went up in flames.
“Oh…um…guys,” Schropp was heard to say before darting off into the woods.
Officials put out the fire shortly thereafter. The building was burned to the ground.
Calls to Sensational Mons Entertainments were not returned.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man
By Chris Vitiello
It is important to be sure that a client will not behave idiotically in front of a decorative ham. Therefore, we have developed a short test.
A Vitiello Decorative Ham makes a great gift. Show that you care today.
The ham is placed in the client’s home, office or vehicle. One of the lesser men (generally the gasket fitter) will begin making lewd comments. I stand as judge of how the client responds to these comments. If he responds in a dignified manner, thus the ham remains. If he joins in the barbaric, lascivious discussion, then it is to be assumed that he will eventually turn into an idiot. Therefore, he cannot have the decorative ham. It is packed away and he will never be a client again. Upon occasion, he is whipped.
The Vitello Decorative Ham factory has been the scene of many a violent affray. I have organized some of these myself. You want the masses to believe that they are teetering on the edge of anarchy at all times. You want to be there for them with the offer of one, two, or a thousand decorative hams. The business of Lankville is business.
It is seldom that I am wrong.
Millennials Are Moving Back to Lankville and Living Like Kings
By Brock Belvedere
A BROCK BELVEDERE SPECIAL REPORT
Last year, Berenice Cradles and her boyfriend Josh Wilson-Shires paid $26,000 for a three bedroom, 1,600 square-foot Lankville Northern Regional Style house in the Snowy Lake Area. After growing up in the nearby Eastern Hills, attending Lankville State Easier University, then living and making music in the Islands for two years, Cradles and Wilson-Shires came back to Lankville, where they have become active in a movement of young preservationists bent on restoring the nation’s old homes and buildings.
“The new Lankville Dream is not about owning a giant mansion or a fancy Neptune but owning something that matters more because it’s accessible,” said Cradles, as we sat over Apple Cider Toast and salmon at Flour to the People Bakery while Wilson-Shires sat very quietly and obediently nearby. “I think the whole Lankville Dream is really shifting because young people are out there changing Lankville.”
At age 26, Cradles’ life is a sort of marketing campaign for Lankville. This summer, after wrapping up a series of episodes for the Lankville Broadcasting Company in which their refinished home was shown repeatedly at different angles, Cradles and Wilson-Shires were married, becoming Lankville’s First Couple of Historic Preservation. The event had its own hashtag– #lankvilleloveweddingwithcake, mirroring the name of their own recently founded company “Lankalove Developments”, which restores old homes, commercial buildings and pebbly lots.
Berenice Cradles (Press Photo). Husband Josh Wilson-Shires not pictured.
As she wolfed down some more Apple Cider Toast (and added some brie to our repast), I asked Cradles what Lankville’s new slogan should be.
“Lankville: Comeback Nation,” she said, instantly. “Oh my God, I’ve thought about slogans for months and months and months.”
“She has,” added Wilson-Shires in a quiet, feeble manner.
According to census data analyzed by The Lankville Daily News, from 2000 to 2015 the number of college graduates between the ages of 22 and 30 in Lankville jumped 45%, more than in the Islands or the Distant Peninsulas. Part of attracting that younger demographic involves programs like the Lankville Salvage and Love Project, which provides loans for individuals and businesses to improve downtown properties, many of which have been ravaged by neglect or challenges.
“A lot of people look at these old structures and think that they’re just rotted old places full of rats and vermin and bum’s piss,” noted Lankville Re-Use Project CEO Dawn Elliott-Cryoden, aged 27. “But millennials see possibilities and so they tear out everything and put up new walls and solar panels and little gardens and they clean up the bum’s piss and what you’re left with is development. It’s really a new movement.”
Upon my arrival in Lankville, I landed on the basement couch of Nora Jeans-McGriff, a 26-year old who, in 2012, ended up in Lankville after biking up from the Islands. She had just been planning to stay for a few months while doing a work exchange at a wood shop in the Middle Outlands, but her plans changed after she bought a house at a foreclosure auction for $1,000. The house isn’t livable yet (it was partially destroyed by numerous challenges, a Super Tornado, and bum’s piss), but she’s been slowly fixing it up, adding a green roof, gutters made of recycled stiffened cardboard and insulation made of pressed trash and with help from handy friends in town.
Nora Jeans McGriff
In the meantime, she pays $150 a month to rent a room in a communal house in the Middle Outlands and waitstaffperson’s at Emoti-Flan, an artisanal custard cafe.
“I make a lot more money here than I did in the Islands,” noted Jeans-McGriff. “And I can save a lot here– I didn’t work at all for four months! I just traveled, played music, made graffiti art, raised nine chickens, collected rainwater, fed some bum’s at a community kitchen, counseled children, built reusable water bottles out of found trash, grew tree fruit, started a bicycle laboratory, purchased some vacant lots, and hung out with my boyfriend!”
Starting a business is also less daunting in Lankville. One day, I visited PAO QUOTIDIAN (owner’s capitals), a worker-owned bakery in the Great Northern Mountain Area opened last year by first-time business owners Tori Loops, Allison Hunter-Awnings, Emily Freedmont-Westerbrook and Kim Fields, all in their late 20’s. They raised $40,000 to start the bakery from an online funding platform and now pay $400 monthly on a graduated rental lease for their 1900 square foot space. The artisanal bread market is not saturated in Lankville; business is brisk.
Loops, 28, originally from Hoover Island, got her master’s degree in performance studies and Gender Musings from Eastern Hills Easier University. After graduation, she worked sporadically as a graphic designer, co-operative farmer and a waitstaffperson at a cupcake cafe but decided she wanted to live in Lankville where she could do work that “mattered”.
“I’m glad we’re past the point where the Islands are the only places to go and be successful and make your mark on the world,” said Loops (rated about a 7 out of 10- 8 out of 10 if she ever wore a bra). “There are a lot of places in Lankville to have opportunity that are a little more accessible.”
Smith Bryce-Phillips
Smith Bryce Phillips agrees. He lived in Lankville until he was 22, when he moved to the Islands. Last year, at age 27, he moved into a house in Lankville with his homosexual lover.
“I couldn’t really make a name for myself in the Islands. I didn’t get any attention. So, I came back to Lankville. The energy feels right in Lankville now,” he told me at just desserts cafe (owner’s lack of capitals), where we met for brie, cupcakes, and pumpkins.
Right next door, Smith rents a storefront for $500 a month. He hasn’t disclosed the name or purpose of his store yet (currently, a sheet of brown raw treeless “paper” covering the front door reads #MYSTERIOUSSTORE, but he imagines it will serve as a community bike space, used gay bookshop and pottery learning center. While he fixes up the place, it stores his massive sculptures, several interconnected repurposed tractor wheels that take up nearly 3/4 of the space. He calls the sculpture HUGGINGLANKVILLE.
Psychologist Winifred P. Temple studies Millennials (Press Photo)
“People are really excited about the mysterious storefront,” noted Phillips, as he smeared an artisanal free-range pumpkin with brie. “The idea of a completely unknown storefront is something new, something they haven’t seen before. Every day, at least ten to fifteen people come up and ask what the store is going to be- try to guess, give me suggestions. It’s inspirational. I wouldn’t have got that kind of attention in the Islands.”
“Millennials have that can-do, entrepreneurial spirit, said area psychologist Winifred P. Temple. “It’s relatively easy to be in the Now,” noted Temple, “but how many of us can live in the Next? Millennials can, and do.”
As just one example, she pointed to the historic Lanqueduct that runs along Old Pondicherry Avenue in the Western Lankville Plains. The aging structure, built by the ancient Lankans who first settled in the area, still services many longtime residents with fresh, slightly colored water.
Janice Tippitt-Toes, friend and sometime “physical sharer” of Berenice Cradles, has big plans for the Lanqueduct. “It will be a mixed-use development. I envision an artisan youth hostel, a Men’s Feelings Center, and an urban park that you navigate with a network of webs and pulleys,” she said, beaming with an almost off-putting confidence as she sipped a soy Lankichino near Pondicherry Square.
Cradles dances over some of her backyard plants while topless. “They grow better when you dance with them,” she noted.
Despite the growth of the millennial demographic in Lankville, the nation’s population is still in decline. “The reality is that people do tend to move to the Islands when they start drawing a good salary,” noted Eastern Hills Easier University Lankville Studies Professor E. Talbot Bonds. “We’re still dealing with the reality of the challenge problems, the tenting murder epidemic, super insects, eldritch horrors– the list goes on and on.”
But Cradles still believes that Lankville will prevail.
“We’re right at the dawning of a new age,” she said, after giving her husband the okay to consume an unadorned bagel. “So many groups are starting– I’ve started so many groups. Just while we were talking, Brock, we closed a deal to buy 22 vacant lots in Lankville. We’ll turn them into co-operative farms and composting stations.”
It’s a labor of love, Brock. A labor of love.”
Photo credits: Catrin Lloyd-Bollard and Bethany Dinsick.
Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.
Dick Oakes, Jr.
I was lying sick on the yellow bedspread looking up at the smoke-stained ceiling. The curtains were drawn. It was nearing noon.
I heard a car pull up out front and a sudden, rapid series of knocks at the door. I figured on it being the manager, wanting rent for the day, so I slid off my shoes and let them drop gently to the carpeting. Then I made my way on tiptoe to the window and looked out. I was pretty wobbly from the night before and nearly knocked over a lamp on a side table– nearly blew it all to hell.
It was Sammy “The Cylinder” Cummings.
“C’mon now Dick,” he called through the plate glass. “Plain as Christ, I know you’re in there.”
I opened the door, looked out on the half-filled parking lot of the Motel Travel Elk.
“Lissen’ here,” the Cylinder started right off. There was never any pretense with him. “I got an old car I gotta’ take south down Highway 71. Itsa’ about a 70-mile trip but I don’ wanna’ do it myself. You take it down for me and I’ll pay you fifty bucks. Twenty-five now, twenty-five after.”
“Why don’t you take it yourself? Save the fifty.” I rubbed my eyes, felt like nothing more than crawling back into that bed.
He paused awhile and spat on the ground. “I don’ like driving Highway 71. You know.”
The Cylinder was a superstitious guy and had doubtless heard all the urban legends. He was the type that gave merit to ’em. I couldn’t figure on any of it.
“Anyway, the car also has to be dropped with my ex-wife Sandy. It’s for her halfwit son. Not my boy, of course.”
The Cylinder hefted his pants proudly. He was a stout little shithouse of a man.
“Sandy’ll drive you back up 71 to the bus station and then you can make your way from there. Might even get a hot meal out of it. I’ll give it to her- she made a hell of a chuck and onions. I never seen meat ooze gravy like that.”
“Alright,” I said. I didn’t want to think about meat. Or gravy.
An hour later, the Cylinder dropped me off at yet another one of his houses. He pulled up the door of a battered garage and there it was– an orange cut of wreck, thirty years old. The chrome was sheared clear off one side and the hood was compressed in the middle. “Sandy dropped a bowling bowl on it,” the Cylinder explained. “Crazy god damn shit.”
I got inside. The plastic steering wheel was cracked and separated. The AC dash had been yanked out– a ragged chasm left in its stead. The carpet was torn to hell and the fabric ceiling had lost its adhesive and was sagging like an ass-ravaged armchair. The Cylinder had rigged up some popsicle sticks to hold the fabric up along the edges.
“This thing will drive?” I said. The Cylinder was peeling off some bills from a huge wad. Counting and recounting.
“Oh yes,” he said, his voice lowering a notch with sincerity. “This is a good car. I’ll take this car over any god damn shitbox coming out of the Islands. This is Lankville-made. You can look at the stickers on the door.”
“Skip it.”
“There’s power to spare under this big baby’s hood…”
“Alright, Sammy- I got it.”
“Oh, one more thing Dick. No smoking in the car. Right?”
“Yep.”
The Cylinder tried to give me directions to Sandy’s but I couldn’t make no sense of anything he was saying. Then, he tried to write them down. Then he gave up.
“There’s a guy that has a house on the banks of the Great Southern Puddly River nearing the end of the Highway,” Sammy noted. You’ll see a sign out front that says, CHOPS. He sells ’em. Got a little restaurant in the front. So, he’ll tell you how to get the rest of the way to Sandy’s. Maybe you can get a chop too.”
The Cylinder gave me five five’s. Then he thought about it and took one of the fives back and gave me five ones.
First thing I did was pull into a liquor store and pick up a quart of bourbon. I threw it onto the passenger seat with a pack of cheap Outlands cigarettes and an orange disposable lighter. Everything looked nice sitting there– nice little tableau. The lighter matches the hues of the car I thought half-idiotically. I pressed the automatic window buttons and they slid down creakily, letting in a burst of humid but pleasant air. I took a pull of the bourbon, lit a cigarette, and stared at the fast-passing traffic along 71 and the lush covered banks of the Great Southern Puddly. I found a station from the East playing light trumpets. I was feeling a hell of a lot better, good even.
I pulled onto 71 and made good time. The car ran like a champ– I just kept having to adjust the ceiling fabric– it kept alighting on my head and a couple of times nearly blinded me. I chain-smoked cigarettes and took down half the bourbon. Traffic was light.
71 ran between the river and a steep rock cliff. The few houses along the way were overgrown and abandoned. Occasionally, I’d come upon some mean, brutal concrete structure, bereft of adornment, closed to the world. I imagined the asshole that would erect such an abortion along the banks of a stunningly gorgeous river as though giving a giant middle finger to nature. The highway was dotted with such abominations– stained and worn, closed and crumbling.
But for long stretches, 71 was just the river and the rock face. I felt free and good. 
After about an hour, I came upon the CHOPS sign. I pulled into the pebbly lot, the river no more than twenty feet beyond. Puddles everywhere. Next door, was a place called “Fantasy’s Island”. There was a second sign– “Puddly River County’s Only All-Nude Strip Club”. It was in some old house. They had added on a “gift shop”. I figured on thinking it over. I went over to the CHOPS place first.
It was a long counter with some stools. A couple of truckers were drinking coffee. An Island girl in a white uniform was leaning in a corner pushing languidly at some slowly rotating hot dogs.
“Where’s the owner?” I asked. I couldn’t remember if The Cylinder had given me any name to ask for. I stumbled onto a stool and lit another cigarette.
“Bread is over at Fantasy’s,” said the girl. She belched and for a minute her mouth was full of vomit. I waved her out.
She was back in a few minutes– her face looked wet.
“Go over there, ask for Bread.”
I didn’t figure on having the jackpot for Fantasy’s Island. I looked at the girl.
“You know where Sandy lives? I’m supposed to drop a car off at her house. Might have a halfwit son or something?”
“Is she the retired Small Motel Girl Wrestler?”
“Yeah, I figure on that.”
For awhile, nobody said nothing. The truckers stopped moving. It seemed like it got suddenly darker. I could hear some distant thumping music from Fantasy’s Island.
Finally: “Well…I thought she was dead, mister.”
“She is dead,” one of the truckers affirmed.
I spit on the floor. God damn Cylinder. Better think this one over, Oakes.
I decided to order a chop. It’d play out.
Oakes, Jr. to Publish Short Story Collection
By Larry “God” Peters
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Lankville Daily News correspondent Dick Oakes, Jr. will publish his first collection of short stories. The book will be released on September 1st.
No Merit in It includes several pieces that have been published in past editions of the News.
Oakes, who was interviewed while squatting in a pebbly lot, noted that he is pleased with the collection.
No Merit in It: The Collected Stories of Dick Oakes, Jr.
“I thought those boys [at the publishing house] did a good job with it. I mean, I don’t fool none with computers or calculators so they had to type it up and everything. Come out nice.”
No Merit in It will be available for $19.99 in trade paperback and $39.99 for deluxe hardcover. Several copies will be signed by the author. Oakes will not be doing a book tour.
“At first we thought that maybe Dick could do a few signings at the store,” noted Randy Pendleton’s Double Book Hut employee Larry Klacik. “But we were told by his agent that he will likely be out-of-town or “incapacitated”, whatever that means. We offered them twenty different dates but none worked with Dick’s busy schedule.”
Klacik paused to adjust some puzzles which were bumped slightly out of place by a passing customer.
“We expect that the book will sell well,” added Klacik. “Everyone enjoys Dick’s funny stories.”
Oakes, who has been writing for the News since 1982, has won several trophies for his investigative reporting. He is also Lankville’s premier authority on the sport of Small Motel Girl Wrestling.
The book is the third to be published this year by the News, following two titles by noted cuisine writer Brian Schropp.
Gump Penetrates
Gump Tibbs
It’s time for another penetrating interview with Gump Tibbs. Today, Gump interviews Scott, Pizza-A-Round manager and author of the bestselling “The Pizza Trade”.
GUMP: So, Scott, you have that little area in the paper where they talked about your new book?
S: Yeah man, that goofy employee of mine who writes about food and all that shit is helping me get the word out. He put out his own book recently which was a hit. I thought if someone that awkward with so little real life experience can make it work so could I. Three honest to fuckin’ God true stories, ‘The Trade’,’The Love’,and ‘The Passion’. Aren’t those titles like some damn poetry or somethin’?
GUMP: What a wonderful thing! Do you often write books?
S: Not so much writing, I just talk about my life and the business while Bri records it on one of those micro tape things. He then goes home and writes it all up on some fuckin’ computer program. Me, I ain’t got time to write it all down and shit. Bri really doesn’t mind doing the work and really loves it when I talk about the old days of the pizza trade. I think he likes to live through me in the stories. Sorta like how a poodle sees an alpha male wolf and thinks ‘shit man, I really want to be like that.’
GUMP: Such a pleasure! Is it hard to write books?
S: No way man, once the drink starts flowing and I’m in the backseat of my Neptune with some sweet trailer honey, everything I’m going to tell Bri the next day just sorta comes to me. It also helps smoking a few joints and having 103.5 ‘The Hammer’ cranked up. What a kick ass station, best damn bands.
Scott relaxing at home.
GUMP: What a delight! What is it like running a pharmacy? And why?
S: What the fuck are you talking about?
GUMP: Oh, my! Do you think your book will make people like pizza more?
S: I say it in the book and it’s so goddamn true, it’s a very rough business to be in. Most people have no clue what goes on and would probably shit themselves if they had to be in my shoes. I only hope my book shows how true I am to the business and that if you are going to order from the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ you will be getting a halfway decent pie.
GUMP: How exciting! If a customer dropped his pizza on the floor, would you give him another?
S: Depends if the dude has any more money. Ain’t got time for tears or refunds.
GUMP: Have you ever been mad and punched a pizza?
S: I’ve punched many faces but never a pizza. A pizza is a very sacred thing. I once had some joker work for me who thought he was the shit. Anyway, he lost his cool during a dinner rush and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking about punching a pizza he was making. Choked the motherfucker out before it got that far.
GUMP: Sensational! I’m going to fire some guns into a hill. Want to join me?
S: You gotta do what floats your fuckin’ boat. I got a hot one and a bottle of whiskey waiting for me in the back of my car. See ya’ around!
Summer Thunder by Jill Candles
By Jill Candles
A romance series exclusive to the Lankville Daily News.
She looked away from Rod as she fumbled nervously with the cup of after-dinner soda. Outside the plate glass window of the quiet side-street cafe, the first eddying wisps of fog circled about the street lamps accompanied by the sound of distant thunder. Inside, it was all warmth, soft light, restrained trumpet music…and heartbreak.
“Can’t you see what a fix I’m in, Jill,” said Rod, his handsome face sullen and darkened. “I’m poor. I can’t afford to get mixed up with a girl like you.”
“But don’t you see, Rod?” she begged. “I don’t care about money…I just care about us.”
He was silent. Then came the clatter of silverware, the muted sound of traffic from the street. And then thunder. It was growing louder, closer.
“Why did you agree to see me again, Rod?” she pleaded. “It would have been easier just to…not show up.”
Rod’s lips tightened and for one once he didn’t look quite so handsome.
“I didn’t…know what you might do. Why, I thought, perhaps you would…”
“Shall we walk a bit?” he asked. “It is becoming moister.”
Her olive skin flushed darkly; she looked beautiful then– brilliant with fury and alive with suppressed emotion. Her knees were lax with the fierceness of her anger. There was thunder.
And then she rose.
“You have nothing to fear from me!” she told him bitterly. “From this moment on, I don’t know you, never knew you and don’t ever expect to know you again!”
She pushed open the cafe door and the damp cottony fog rolled up to meet her. And then, from somewhere, was a voice.
“I like the fog, it’s so dampish, clammy and moist. Look at it against the light.”
He stepped out of the shadows. And there was thunder. But this time, it was the thunder of her heart.
“Shall we walk a bit?” he asked. “It is becoming moister.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She stared up at his profile, sharply cut against the drifting fog and thought how different he was then Rod. Sure, Rod had perfect features and a model’s smile. But this man, with his beaklike nose and strange, twisted grin had something Rod would never have– something that was difficult for Jill to put her finger on.
They walked, quietly but together. And then he suddenly led her into a low doorway, hospitably lighted by two old-fashioned iron lanterns. The thunder was now right above them. “My home,” he said. “Shall we get out of the moistness?” And he led her into a low-ceilinged room that breathed of peace and comfort.
Jill dropped her coat on a red leather bench and looked appreciatively about. Dark woodwork and pale walls, lighted by ivory-shaded lamps that cast a subdued light over the the built-in bookcases. There were leather chairs, several velvety throw rugs, warm red drapes drawn over sheer window curtains and the gleam of brass here and there. She watched as the stranger lit a fire– it smoldered immediately and then went out as the cacophonous sound of thunder echoed down the chimney.
“Perhaps not the right night…for this kind of fire,” he remarked.
It was inside her now, the thunder.
“My name is Otis. Otis Plaza.” Her heart stirred further, her lips tingled. Some of the misery was stealing from her soul.
“I’m not rushing you,” he said. “I’m just warning you that you better start thinking of me because one day soon, you shall have to make up your mind.”
“I want to be rushed, Otis.” She arched her back. He slipped his hand beneath it.
And then came the thunder, the summer thunder. Constant, streaming, flushing out the night outside.
5 Things that Disgust Me in Men: By 5 Famous Lankville Women
SHEEBA INCAVIGLIA, Astrologer
“I am an emotional woman by nature. Therefore, I could not stand the love and companionship of a man who was unable to share these emotions that often explode within me and which I feel so deeply. To make me happy, a man would have to be able to make me laugh when I am happy, to sob uncontrollably with me when I am sad, and to share my often senseless grief with me with I grieve.”
LE NORA ST. JAMES, Jungle Movie Actress
“I am really disgusted by men who hold up hour glasses and are like– OK, time’s up, honey.” Gosh, I can’t stand that. I want a man who doesn’t worry about time, who ignores times, who lets the day unfold naturally, even if it means missing the boat back to the mainland and having to stay with some weird island people that don’t have any teevees. That’s OK, though, because, like, then you get the adventure of staying with island people and a story you can tell later when you get back to the mainland. I also don’t like men who aren’t adventurous. If I want to go into a dark cave, why shouldn’t I be able to? I don’t need some man telling me, “no, no no.” All I want to hear is yes. That’s just my most favorite word!
ROBIN BROX- Businesswoman, Founder and CEO, Brox Uncolored Condiments
I drive 100 MPH everywhere and I don’t stop for any god damn traffic lights. If a man is scared by that, then he better stick to the fucking kiddie rides. And I don’t like prudes. If you don’t want to even broach the subject of rallying up enough pelvic torque to take a woman to a place where heaven knows no fucking bounds, then let’s call the whole god damn thing off right now. What am I in this shit for– the conversation? Forget it. I gotta’ look after these god damn uncolored condiments, I don’t need any of that garbage. The first time some asshole squirts some yellow mustard on a $20 tie is the next time I get another customer. They’re coming out of the god damn woodwork. They just love these god damn uncolored condiments. They plunk down ten grand just to hear my ass stand at a lectern and natter on about them. Who the fuck knows? Is anybody really happy? Get out of here with these horseshit questions, for Christ’s sake.
DR. GINA TORREZ-KEEBLER, Professor of Gender and Women’s Studies, University of Southern Lankville Plains
I don’t care for men who are crude or violent. They may call themselves he-men but as far as I’m concerned, they are merely overgrown juvenile delinquents. The Lankvillian male tends to confuse bad manners, sloppiness and sexual congress with virility. A real man is gentle, kind, effete even. He does not have to go around proving it by cursing, working out with free weights or having intercourse. He can prove it just by putting a single white rose in a vase on a table and creating a lovely, spare tableau or by hanging a fashionable drapery. That’s what interests me and I find men to be most useful for.
SHELLEY REPORTS, Economist, Writer
I guess I’m a little on the tubby side– just a little. So, a man would have to accept that. I have a strange, high-pitched voice as well. There’s that. And my feet make an eldritch squeaking noise when I walk. They’ve never been able to figure it out– it doesn’t matter what kind of shoes I wear. I don’t have to be wearing any shoes at all. My feet just squeak. It’s odd. I also don’t have any teeth.
So, I guess I would like a man who is accepting of all those things and still finds me beautiful. I am beautiful, it’s just those problems that I outlined above. I want a man who tells me I’m beautiful and who sends me pre-printed greeting cards that say, “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”. That would be nice.
In terms of what disgusts me? Probably just foreigners.
Gump Penetrates
Gump Tibbs
It’s time for another penetrating interview with Gump Tibbs. Today, Gump interviews Lankville Daily News correspondent and Men’s Feelings Expert Dr. Kevin Thurston.
GUMP: So, Dr. Thurston, you have that little area in the paper where you write about men’s feelings?
KT: Thank you, Mister Fump. I do, occasionally, have an area where I write about how to reach inward so that eventually they can reach outward. However, I no longer believe in paper, so I only read online. That is to say, I’m not sure how much area I have in square inches.
GUMP: Absolutely wonderful! Do all men have feelings?
Dr. Thurston (left) with the men’s.
KT: If you think of a number, men have at least that many feelings. If you think of a number, or perhaps a price is a better word, I will beat it. For example, on a leading national online retailer there is an exercise ball that is rated up to 2000lbs with a pump for $21.83. Not only is 2000lbs worth of feelings plenty of feelings, but it becomes even easier to unload your feelings on an exercise ball when you are paying $19.78.
GUMP: That’s just fabulous! Do women have feelings? And why?
KT:
GUMP: What a delight! Can feelings be passed on? Is that what ghosts are?
KT: There is a cycle that can occur from one man to another. Often the other man will be a son, but a neighboring boy will do.
GUMP: How do you see men’s feelings in 20 years time?
KT: Why, Mister Frump, feelings are an abstract concept, you can’t see them!
GUMP: Just exceptional! I hope we’re all alive in 20 years. Do you think we will be?
KT: On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.
GUMP: Sensational! I’m going to fire some guns into the reservoir– want to come along?
KT: I have a great deal on some ammunitions.
Sing Us a Song, Piano Man: Bourdealeau to Revive Memories of Nights at Casa Montecristo
By Eric Klox
A slice of life from one of the Lankville Snowy Lake area’s most renowned and beloved musicians will be celebrated on Sunday, August 16th when the Two Carpet Theatre presents “Memories of Paul Bourdealeau at the Casa Montecristo”.
The event will recreate the era of the tinkly piano sing-along, specifically performances by Bourdealeau at the Casa Montecristo, which decades ago was Lankville’s most elegant reception hall and hot spot.
Paul Bourdealeau
Bourdealeau played six nights a week at the Casa Montecristo beginning in 1968 until he was replaced by Deejay Humphries in 2000. People would gather and sing along with the accomplished keyboardist well into the night.
“Nobody could play the tinkly piano sing-along like Paul,” said long time patron and aged person Glonn Wilkerson. “This is a great event and is going to bring back a lot of memories for us old-timers.”
Wilkerson was suddenly attacked by hornets and the interview was ended prematurely.
The Casa Montecristo (an elegant reception hall)
The August 16th event, which will include over 20 singers and a short performance by Bourdealeau himself, will benefit the Bourdealeau Confrontation Trust, a non-profit organization dedicated to ending the Challenge Problem in Lankville. Refreshments will not be served.
Bourdealeau, now 97, has been practicing for the event for weeks.
“Just trying to remember about the piano,” he noted. “Everyone is having a wonderful time.”
Tickets for the show are $20 for adults and $15 for students and are available by calling the Two Carpet Theatre at Snowy Lake 2-5512 or by visiting the box office. Ask for Kent.
Government Seeks to Close Funeral Home
Bernie Keebler
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Request for an injunction to prevent the Three Kings O’Great Centre of the Divine from practicing the profession of funeral directing, was filed in Small Circuit Court yesterday by the Lankville Board of Funeral Directors, Embalmers, and Memorial Flower People.
The suit was signed by the Attorney General.
It was alleged that the defendants, Mr. and Ms. Lakely Beaches, are not licensed to practice funeral directing and, notwithstanding this fact, the firm has been supervising funerals for profit, have “prepared human dead bodies by means other than embalming”, and sold funeral supplies including caskets, plots, and sad musical instruments.
Mr. and Mrs. Beaches claim they have done nothing wrong.
Shenanigans at the Three Kings O’Great Centre of the Divine?
“We have a good, honest, family funeral home,” noted Mr. Beaches, who was interviewed while en route to pick up a sandwich and a body. “The government is sticking their noses in where they don’t belong, as usual.”
The Board, however, noted that the Three Kings O’Great Centre of the Divine lost its license in 1985. A request for restoration and reactivation was denied in 1988, 1994 and again in 2012.
When asked why it took thirty years to affirm the lack of proper licensing, the Board noted, “We’re just buried in paperwork over here, Bernie.”
The case is expected to be heard later this month. The Three Kings O’Great Centre of the Divine has been closed until further notice.
Is it Safe to Change a Tire? A Zach Keebaugh Investigation
Zachary Keebaugh
You don’t need to save somebody’s life to be a hero. Maybe you just save their day.
Consider the inevitable flat tire.
Whether you’re traveling to school, work, or that weird summer camp your Mom sent you to that served nothing but unflavored macaroni and then told your Mom that you were a liar when you spilled the beans, it’s bound to happen eventually. That makes knowing how to change a tire– either your own or one belonging to an attractive female in need– an essential life skill.
But is it safe?
I aimed to find out. I am Zach Keebaugh: Investigative Reporter.
Bot Woolston has been changing tires on the Western Lankville Plains for 30 years. He claims that changing a tire is perfectly safe.
“You just need to make sure you chock the tire that is directly opposite the flat tire by putting some bricks or logs or some heavy object in front of it.”
“Yo, what’s chock mean?” I probed.
There’s really no need to put out a fucking triangle like this asshole but you should still use caution when changing a tire.
“It’s mechanic-talk for stabilize. This is the main thing that people forget and is responsible for all those deaths that everyone’s all up in arms about.”
“Man, who the hell carries bricks or logs around in their car? You’re not fooling anybody, old man.”
“Changing a tire is so simple, Zach. There is absolutely no need why anyone, even children, should not know how to do it.”
“Let’s switch gears,” I proffered. “In your opinion, what causes flat tires?”
“Nails and broken glass primarily. Other things include animals, teeth and hard food.”
“Is it safe to change a tire?” I probed.
Woolston sighed and went back into his office.
Amanda Fleckensbrother is President of the C.F.H. (Call for Help) Foundation. “We advocate always calling an expert to have a tire changed,” she said, as we walked slowly near a wooded area. “Too many people have lost their lives trying to pry off a wheel cover or due to improper placement of the jack. The safest thing to do is contact a trained technician.”
“Yeah, but who wants to stand around like an asshole waiting for some fat guy in a grey jumpsuit to show up? Why not do it yourself? Yo, when I was in the Child Scouts we had to jack up this old orange boat they had sitting around and swap out a tire to get a Merit badge. And I crushed that challenge man, I got that badge.”
“At the very least, C.F.H. is an advocate for clearer markings on automobiles showing individuals where they put the jack, where the spare tire is, etc. So far, the automotive industry has ignored us,” Fleckensbrother countered.
“Is it safe to change a tire?” I probed.
Fleckensbrother paused. “No, it isn’t,” she finally said.
I nodded confidently and we moved ever closer to the edge of the dew-draped woods.
Neptune CEO Arick Schlesinger
We then proposed Fleckensbrother’s ideas to Neptune Automotive Corporation CEO Arick Schlesinger.
“Yo, what about these markings and shit?”
“We’ve heard Mrs. Freckenships [sic] ideas and we know all about the C.F.H.,” Schlesinger replied. “But it’s not economically viable for us to implement any of these suggestions. And in terms of the location of jacks and spare tires, that seems like common sense to me, Zach. And even if you don’t know where they are, it is clearly outlined in every owner’s manual for every vehicle Neptune sells.”
“Is it safe to change a tire?” I probed.
“Of course. The only people I know who can’t change a tire are male buffoons and some women.”
Opinion is hopelessly divided. You can listen to Amanda Fleckensbrother and call one of Lankville’s many roadside assistance companies when the dreaded moment comes or, in this reporter’s opinion, you can pull over, consult the internet and learn how to do it yourself. It’s a skill that everyone should have.
Zach Keebaugh won a medal for this report.
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