Posts Tagged ‘Fake News’

Feelings by Dr. Kevin Thurston

November 13, 2014 Leave a comment
Dr. Kevin Thurston

Dr. Kevin Thurston

Dr. Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.

Stigma is shame. Stigma is silence. Silence hurts Lankville. This is the motto of Dr. Kevin Thurston’s new “Minds Astir” Group.

Minds Astir is an organization that encourages men to become more open-minded about their mental illness. Minds Astir is loosely affiliated with the larger “Rustling Minds” movement. We meet on Wednesdays in my basement office.

Steve Mitchell, Jr. participated in the Mentally-Ill Pumpkin Smash.

Steve Mitchell, Jr. participated in the Mentally-Ill Pumpkin Smash.

Men diagnosed with mental illness comprise over 95% of our population. They experience numerous daily struggles, not only with their symptoms, but also with prejudices and stereotypes that society creates. Minds Astir seeks to eliminate these societal pressures by taking mentally ill men away from the general public and keeping them in a series of apartments which we will be renting in the upcoming weeks and by offering men a series of discounted items at excellent prices.

Everyone became very confused, standing there holding pumpkins with synonyms for insanity written on them.

Minds Astir provides mentally ill men with a series of activities designed to improve their mental health. Shortly after Halloween, for example, we held a pumpkin smash to symbolize the stomping or “smashing” out of mental illness. Some of the pumpkins smashed quite easily– others would not budge. “This symbolizes the intensity and strength mental illness has on all of us,” I said. “Instead of smashing the pumpkins, let’s write words on them in magic marker,” I then suggested. I challenged the mentally ill men to call out common derisive terms for the mentally ill and then sold each patient a permanent chisel tip marker for just $2.29 (excellent deal). The men called out “crazy”, “insane”, “senseless”, “unsettled” and many other terms and we wrote each word on a pumpkin.

Frankly, we lost our way a little after that. Everyone became very confused, standing there holding pumpkins with synonyms for insanity written on them. No one knew what to do– even I didn’t know what to do. It got dark very fast, that is all I can remember.

But that is part of the process. Part of the journey. I’m not sure who cleaned up the pumpkins.

Join “Minds Astir” today.

Santa Shows Up Early in Lankville!

November 13, 2014 Leave a comment
Ida Rumpus

By Ida Rumpus


It’s not even Thanksgiving but a Santa Claus showed up early yesterday at the Lowinger Brothers Utility Shed Outlet in Western Lankville.

"We were shopping for a utility shed with our kids and we turned a corner and there he was."

“We were shopping for a utility shed with our kids and we turned a corner and there he was.”

“We were shopping for a utility shed with our kids and we turned a corner and there he was,” said area Dad Brim Gerard, 34. “He was sitting on a barrel that had been cut in half and turned over so that it slightly resembled a chair. The kids exhibited some glee.”

I didn’t know he was back there.

The Santa may have been part of a promotion by the Lowinger Brothers Company, although no spokesman could be reached for comment.

“I didn’t know he was back there,” said a lower-level clerk for the concern who refused to be identified. “But I guess it was planned.”

Gerard noted that the Santa was spotted on a rather distant part of the lot.

“It was way towards the back. Where they keep the discount utility sheds or the ones that have been hit by cars.”

Will the Santa be back on the lot today? No one is quite sure.

“I really don’t know,” said a second clerk who refused to identified. “I can’t find anything on our website about it.”

Lowinger Brothers executives did not return phone calls as of press time.

I Want to Tell You All About My New Boyfriend

November 12, 2014 Leave a comment
By Ashley Pfeiffers

By Ashley Pfeiffers


Whenever I think of my new boyfriend, I just get the biggest smile. He’s down in a parking lot right now by the woods.

Twin Removed Pines Mall where my boyfriend and I got our shakes.

Twin Removed Pines Mall where my new boyfriend and I got our shakes.

Today, we went and got pizza. Just slices, not a whole pizza. He said, “I’m not even that hungry. Because, I’m full of love.” I just giggled and giggled and the guy behind the pizza counter got a little testy. Then, my new boyfriend and I went down under the overpass and I watched him spray paint a big giant kitten on the concrete.

I’m not even that hungry. Because, I’m full of love.

“It’s getting a little chilly in the late afternoons now,” my new boyfriend said. “Might be time to get a new hoodie.” So, my new boyfriend and I went to Twin Removed Pines Mall. He bought a couple of hoodies with all these jagged yellow designs all over them and some flared pants and then we got a shake. “One straw,” he told the shake guy. Then, he kissed me.

We went over to the table. “Why’d you kiss me in front of the shake guy?” I asked my new boyfriend.” “I don’t care if he sees,” he said. “It’s just you and me, Ash.” I just about died.

Then, it got to be about four o’clock and my new boyfriend had to be getting over to the parking lot by the woods. I went back to his room with him and he put on his new hoodie. Gosh, he looked good. “I’ve gotta’ be getting down to see the guys,” he said. “A lot of ideas flowin’ tonight.” I wasn’t sure what my new boyfriend was talking about but it didn’t matter.

We’re so in love.

The opinions of Ashley Pfeiffers are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.

Woman in a Man’s Game by Robin Brox

November 11, 2014 Leave a comment


Robin Brox is Lankville’s most successful female entrepreneur. She is the founder and CEO of Brox Uncolored Condiments, Inc.

I was sitting in my office at the arena, bored out of my skull.  There was an empty wire trash can and I took it over to the window and dropped it down five stories to the street.  It just missed hitting a suit eating a hot dog.

“YEAH, SHITCUPS!” I yelled as a small crowd gathered.  I found some condiment catalogs nearby and tossed those out too.  The lunch throng had now gathered round, staring up at me.  I suddenly got moist as a muffin downtown, I knew it.

I scanned the suite of third floor offices.  There was an IT guy there– he was a bit wall-eyed but he had big hands.  I shut the door behind me.

“How’d you like to earn yourself a tidy little bonus?” I asked.  “That kind of scratch, you could buy yourself a bunch of those little medieval playcards.”

He liked that.  He was a smart kid.

That kind of scratch, you could buy yourself a bunch of those little medieval playcards.

Condiment set. Shortly after this photo was taken, there was a period of vast confusion and the set was destroyed.

Condiment set. Shortly after this photo was taken, there was a period of vast confusion and the set was destroyed.

Later, I walked down to the cafeteria.  I didn’t like the look of the egg and chicken dish so I went for the mouth hoagie.  A couple of the executives came over and started on business.  One of the assistants leaned over me.

“Ms. Brox, your speech for next week.”  He handed me a folder.

“Yeah?” I said, my chin glistening with a complex potpourri of sauces.  “What’s that about?”

He looked confused.  “It’s…well…it’s a continuation of your series on the essence of uncolored condiments.”

“Let me see you put the folder down your pants.”

“What?…I…”  He went red.

“Go on, put the folder down your pants.  Do a little dance for me.”

He ran out.  I finished the mouth hoagie and left the folder.  Someone’d bring it up.

I went back to the office and ordered a couple of loud sequined kaleidoscope dresses online.  In the comments section I wrote, “MAKE THEM HUG THE HIPS AND ADD THE SHIMMERY BIB”.  I placed the order and went back to the window.  The trash can was gone and someone had cleaned up the catalogs.  I was slightly disappointed.

I’m a woman in a man’s game, alright.

Inventory of Bumpkin Trailer Made Public; Schropp on Cuisine

November 11, 2014 Leave a comment
By Lloyd Byas-Kirk

By Lloyd Byas-Kirk


An inventory of items belonging to the bumpkins who were carried away by the wind two weeks ago, will be made public.

In an exclusive Lankville Daily News teaser: the bumpkins had paperbacks.

In an exclusive Lankville Daily News teaser: the bumpkins had paperbacks.

Detective Gee-Temple handed over the list to The Lankville Daily News this morning.

“As I said before, there’s nothing really of interest, there,” noted Gee-Temple, who paused to examine the brilliant rays of sun cascading through his office blinds. “Towels, forks and spoons, couple of throw rugs, some paperbacks of an inconsequential nature.”

Gee-Temple stretched before the window and exhaled deeply. “The poor lambs,” he whispered.

A full disclosure of the inventory will be forthcoming.


Lenny’s EZ Buffet

So I have seen adverts for some time now about an exciting new buffet that has opened. The miscut multi-colored flyers I found on neighborhood cars said the place was called “Lenny’s EZ Buffet”. The name grabbed me, an easy buffet? Not only an easy buffet but an “EZ buffet” which I suppose is even easier?!!!! How could you make a buffet even easier, I thought. I was instantly intrigued.

Piecing a few of the miscut flyers together, I made out the address using “Lankville Maps” on my mom’s computer and I found it to be right in the heart of downtown. No, not my favorite spot to visit but my folks have been on my case recently about getting out of my “basement apartment” and taking a few chances in life. So off I went on my scooter (recently had my Lankville scooter license renewed). Two blocks later, I was pushed off my scooter (but wearing my helmet-safety first!!) and I had to huff the rest of it on foot.

Downtown can be a very gritty maze, one way-two way streets leading to complicated roundabouts. As with most non-downtown folk I found myself lost.The people standing around on the corner or by the mostly abandoned buildings would not answer my pleas for directions and would instead begin searching my pockets for change. As luck would have it, however, my new found friend “Trucker Joe” was making a delivery to a nearby department store and was able to give me a ride and help me find the address. Coming face to face with the address, I realized the buffet was on the top floor, it was a long way up and there was no elevator. “This isn’t EZ at all” I muttered to myself as I started to climb.

After the steep ascent (taking a couple breaks along the way) I made it to the top floor, found the appropriate door number and knocked. After a few more hard knocks someone finally barked out, “Yeah?” I informed him I was here for the buffet. “It’s $16.95” he replied holding out his hand. I took out the twenty dollar bill my folks gave me from my sock and he quickly snatched it from my hand and put it in his pocket. I paused waiting for my change. “Are you comin’ in or not?” “Uhm, my change?” “Don’t have it, sorry. Either you are comin’ in or not but you are not getting your money back”. So I walked in and he closed the door behind me. “Are you a cop?” He asked. “No,no why would I be?” “You’re shaking too much, put your hands on the wall, I’m going to pat you down” After a pat down where he took the rest of my change the other downtown people didn’t get I was allowed to enter further.

This isn’t EZ at all” I muttered to myself…

The place didn’t look much like a buffet or even a restaurant at all, in fact, it just looked like a plain old apartment (and a poorly furnished one at that). I asked if this was some cutting edge decor for people like me (from the burbs) to have an “urban experience”‘ “Uh, yeah, you got it. Now just stand over there. The buffet will be ready in a moment.” I went by the small table which was in the dinning room area of the apartment. The only lighting was from a fixture above the table which was half out. I thought this added to the experience. Lenny (I am thinking it was him but he would never answer if that was indeed his name) walked into the dark kitchen. After hearing the fridge open and close and the banging of a few cabinet doors, he came out with four paper plates of food and put them on the table.

Paper plate 1- Some type of lunch meat (might of been ham?) and a slice of bread
Paper plate 2- A half eaten meatloaf dinner
Paper Plate 3- Some yellowed lettuce with potato chips (not sure what kind) and a grape on top
Paper Plate 4- Not sure, maybe a chili of some sort or maybe something that had gone bad

He saw the confusion in my eyes. “Got a problem with this?” “Is there any hot food?” “Sorry, this is the cold food lunch buffet. We have a hot food dinner buffet and it’s twenty four dollars” “Do I get a drink?” He rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen.

At this point a woman came out of the back hallway from a bedroom. She was wearing only a dirty nightshirt and looked like a complete mess. She started to mumble something about a monkey. Lenny came back from the kitchen in a complete rage yelling at her to never come out while a customer was eating. He suddenly looked over at me, “I think it’s time for you to leave.” “But I haven’t sampled anything yet.” With that, his violent rage turned upon me and I quickly made my way from the EZ buffet and back out down into the street.

Reflecting back on the experience in my bedroom apartment I am not sure if this establishment was legitimate or if it really was a true downtown urban buffet experience. Maybe one day if I strike up the courage I will go back and try the hot dinner buffet. Speaking of courage– courage is what it would take for The Lankville Daily News to dedicate an entire column to cuisine and not just pair it with these god damn bumpkin articles, right? Am I right? But, we won’t go into that for now. Well, until next time, keep your mind and your mouth open to new things.

Happy eating!

How to Make a Birdhouse Out of a Gourd

November 10, 2014 2 comments
By David Hadbawnik

By David Hadbawnik

David Hadbawnik is Lankville’s premier authority on how to make a birdhouse out of a gourd.


Begin by selecting your gourd. A bottle gourd is your natural choice– it provides a wide, welcoming bosom that will be inviting and intriguing to birds.

Next, you will need to clean the interior. Use a drill to make a 2″ hole on one side. With a special gourd spoon (available by mail), scrape out the dried seeds and pulp from the inside. Be sure to save it though! It’ll make a tasty snack for later on!

Drop your gourd lovingly into a solution made from one part bleach, eight parts water and one part love…

Now you’ll want to sanitize your gourd– this is very important. Use sandpaper to smooth the exterior of the gourd and the inside edges of the entrance hole. Pay extra attention to the hole. Now, drop your gourd lovingly into a solution made from one part bleach, eight parts water and one part love 🙂 Just kidding!  Nine parts water!

Completely rinse the gourd and then hang it on a clothesline to dry thoroughly. Don’t worry if a neighbor catches you hanging a gourd on a clothesline– there is nothing at all “mental” about this, as some former neighbors of mine have suggested.

Once the gourd is dry, you’ll want to use some exterior latex paint to decorate the outside of the gourd. Feel free to be creative! Me and some of my friends recently had a gourd birdhouse painting party on my patio and we came up with all kinds of wild designs! And don’t worry– if you’re “experimenting” and your design just doesn’t work out, you can always go back with some more exterior latex paint and you’ve got a brand new blank canvas. No worries!

When you’ve finished your design and added a couple of water drainage holes on the bottom, you’re ready to hang. Consider a sturdy branch– smaller, thinner branches have a tendency to “break”, which could lead to a disaster and a waste of a lot of hard work.

And last but not least– ENJOY!


OPINION: My Ultimate Plan is to Destroy You

November 10, 2014 Leave a comment
By a nearby kitten.

By a nearby kitten.

I won’t mince words here. My ultimate plan is to destroy you.

You know how when you come downstairs in the morning and you’re in a hurry and you microwave yourself a breakfast burrito and I fucking stand there at the bowl and you don’t make a move towards feeding me? You know that? And you rush out and you just totally stonewall me? You know how that happens quite often, right? Well, guess what asshole? No more. Because now I have a plan cooked up that means your total, ultimate destruction.

As soon as I know you’re gone for good, I go down into the basement and start on the gas pipe. I’ve got that thing good and bent already. Then, I work a little bit on the line. I just drop a hammer on that fucker for a couple of hours. That’s right baby, I got nothing but time. That line is getting good and ruptured. And you know what, man? You’re never gonna’ know about it.

You might ask– doesn’t this ultimate plan of destruction mean my own destruction as well? Isn’t there an irony there? Not me, buddy. I got a whole plan of escape already worked out. When it’s time for this shit to go down, you won’t see me again. I’ll be miles away– I’ll just be able to make out the top of the explosion above the trees.

And I’ll turn and continue on down the road.

The Lankville Daily News does not necessarily condone this sort of activity.

Lankville Mom Empowers Women By Feeding Cave Hermits

November 8, 2014 Leave a comment
By Mrs. Larry Temple

By Mrs. Larry Temple


She’s a mother of six, a Small Child Scouts leader, and a college administrator with a Ph.D., but her unusual hobby is taking Lankville by storm.

Cheryl Sheets shows off a turkey that will be fed to a cave hermit.

Cheryl Sheets shows off a turkey that will be fed to a cave hermit.

In her spare time, Lankville Southern Far Away Suburb resident Cheryl Sheets, 38, changes from her dress clothes to a special jumpsuit, climbs up into the hills, and feeds cave hermits.

“Most people didn’t know that I fed cave hermits until I came to work one day with this necklace made out of a bunch of big bulky rocks,” Sheets says. “I had to explain that [the necklace] was a gift from a cave hermit. That just kind of got the ball rolling.”

She started when she was a little girl in Deep Lankville where several of her relatives were cave hermits. “We had a little more in life– Dad repaired soft toys– and so I learned early to give something back. Give something back to the people in the caves.”

But Cheryl didn’t truly get started in hermit cave-feeding until about three years ago. Now, it’s a family affair. Sheets’ daughter, mother and small husband are now involved in the practice.

“I wish I would have started younger. But, it’s an expensive hobby,” Sheets notes. “All those huge turkeys. It adds up.”

Her dreams came true when she graduated from a Ph.D. program at the University of Far Away Suburban Lankville and her small husband bought her an array of portable food serving trays as a present. The rest is history.

Typical cave hermit.

Typical cave hermit.

“She really ran with it once she had those lovely trays,” stated hubby Kevin Sheets, who works as a costume designer. “Those trays are silver-plated brass and have the classic shapes and beveled edges of a hotel collection. Really chic.”

Sheets just got her first sponsorship from Vitiello Decorative Hams, which should allow her to continue the practice far into the future.

“The hermits are never sure what to do with a decorative ham but it does brighten up their caves,” Sheets noted.

For Sheets, it’s more than just the thrill of feeding a cave hermit though. She’s hoping her participation in the activity inspires other women to defy the odds and break barriers.

“You’ve got to get yourself started [in hermit cave-feeding]. You just have to be who you are, strong, overly-confident, in complete control of your family and everything after that will fall into place.”

Items Found in Bumpkin Trailer; Schropp on Cuisine

November 6, 2014 Leave a comment
By Lloyd Byas-Kirk

By Lloyd Byas-Kirk


A few items were found inside the trailer belonging to the bumpkins that were carried off by the wind a few weeks back.

The bumpkins may have had some hand towels, says Gee-Temple.

The bumpkins may have had some hand towels, says Gee-Temple.

“There were some ordinary items, yes,” noted Detective Gee-Temple of the Lankville Bureau of Probes. “Nothing particularly interesting, Lloyd. I mean, you want to make a story out of their hand towels or what they had in the fridge?”

We nodded excitedly and were promised full access to the inventory as early as Friday.


My folks spoke of a place over the years, a seemingly magical place from their youth. It was called “The Fry Hut” and according to Mom and Dad, it was a teenager’s hangout dream. The owner (Hal Slappy, Jr.) would fry anything- ANYTHING- the kids brought him in one of his forty-two luxurious deep friers. They would bring hamburgers, hotdogs, fish tacos (yes, Lankville was the creator of the fish taco) and then feast in deep-fried goodness while making out in their cars.

The Fry Hut in Deep Lankville.

The Fry Hut in Deep Lankville.

Was this place still around? Mom and Dad weren’t too sure. “It may have been closed some years back because of health code violations,” Dad said. “There was a lot of underaged drinking too,” Mom added. “Now Brian, let’s get these pumpkins inside for our Thanksgiving display.” But I was no longer interested in pumpkins. My mind was far away. It was on The Fry Hut. I had to find it. I had to find out if the magic was still there.

The place was clear across Lankville. “Up in the hills” some might say. Out of my comfort zone of the suburbs. I would need to walk (my parent-accompanied provisional permit had recently expired). But for the sake of the article, off I went.

By the time I cleared downtown and the other side of the city I was met with the rolling hills and mountains of Deep Lankville. The roads became narrow and some parts unpaved; local yokels drove by– blasting their rock anthems from their trucks and tossing beer cans and shoes at me. The occasional shout of ‘”Get out of the way breakfast sandwich boy” were heard. The vague directions I got from my folks didn’t help matters much but with the help of a few good locals (a special shout out to “Trucker Joe” for the lift) I soon found my destination.

Hal and Gretchen Slappy

Hal and Gretchen Slappy

The Fry Hut was nestled in a wooded clearing off a dirt road– it had seen better years. My heart sank a little thinking it was closed for good but the front door banged open and out stepped a woman in a bathrobe, curlers, and wielding a shotgun. I quickly explained who I was and what I was doing on her property. She said her name was Gretchen Slappy, Hal’s wife, and she would get him. Soon Ol’ Hal himself came from out behind the Fry Hut, wielding a shotgun. “What are you doin’ here boy?” he asked. Again I explained the situation. “Are you from around here?” I said I lived in Lankville. “No boy, from around here!! In these parts!!!” No, I had to say I was from clear across Lankville. He shook his head and said that the Fry Hut was only open to locals now. After a begging and pleading session emphasizing how far I traveled, Hal said I could come in if I got on my hands and knees and really, really begged. So I swallowed my pride and did so. He produced a video camera from somewhere and recorded the entire display for reasons unclear.

Finally, I was permitted entry. The interior was in no better shape than the outside. The counter tops and “sitting booths” (as Hal called them) showed their age and were littered with trash. The windows were covered with a thick layer of dust which made even the sunlight coming through seem dirty. Hal set me up at the counter with a crumpled place mat and a spoon from a rusted sink. He went on about the history of the place for awhile and then about different frying options he provided. But I had a glorious idea which I hoped he was open to. “Say Hal, do you have an egg?” “Yeah” “How about some bacon?” “Yup” “Then if you had a little cheese and a soft tender biscuit maybe you could fry that for me?” I could tell by the coldness in his eyes that I had crossed some sort of line. “Get out boy, get out now, don’t you or your kind ever come back here.”
With that I quickly left and made an even quicker pace when I heard the click of the shotgun as I went through the door. It took me a long while to get home since I made sure to stay off the back roads in case Hal was going to follow me. (Again a special thanks to “Trucker Joe” who found me on Interstate 27 and gave me a partial lift home).

So with disappointment in my heart I end my first review. Disappointment that is merely escalated by the fact that, once again, my work has been forced to follow A SPURIOUS, POINTLESS ARTICLE ABOUT THE GOD DAMN BUMPKINS. The bumpkins had stuff in their trailer? IS THIS NEWS??? Furthermore, it seems quite obvious that my next article will follow THE BUMPKINS AGAIN when Lloyd finds out exactly what they had in their fridge. SERIOUSLY, LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS??!! Calming…calming…I’m alright now.

I hope next time I will actually be able to write about some food. Until then, please keep your mind and mouth open to new things.

Happy eating!

Barlow Foods to Start Selling New Type of Apple

November 6, 2014 Leave a comment
By Brock Belvedere

By Brock Belvedere


Balloon Town, one of two new apple varieties developed by Lankville Hilly Area University, will make its commercial debut on Barlow Foods shelves this weekend.

Derived from the Aromatic Davey hybrid, Balloon Town is described as crunchy, juicy, red, spicy, and “a little audacious”. “It’s a bit like going out to an upscale restaurant with a classy guy who then slams you in the ass,” noted researcher Linda Marloni, who worked on the much-anticipated project. “It’s a brazen little fruit.”

In the works for a decade, the first trees were planted by Barlow Foods in 2010. The first limited commercial crop is expected to supply stores for roughly nine weeks before selling out.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on it,” said Barlow Foods CEO John Barlow, who was interviewed while eating dry cereal out of a heavily-dented plastic container in his office. “There is not a lot of margin for error at Barlow Foods. If Balloon Town doesn’t move and move quickly, then decisions will have to be made.”

Barlow Foods CEO John Barlow

Barlow Foods CEO John Barlow

The interview was suddenly interrupted by the intrusion of two furniture movers laboring beneath a gigantic wicker sofa. The sofa was instantly revealed to clash dramatically with Barlow’s existing furnishings and, further, was shabby and cheaply-made upon closer inspection. Indeed, no matter where the movers placed the sofa, the effect was the same.

Barlow suggested that the sofa should be returned but the movers demurred, pointing out an amendment to the receipt that forbid such exchanges. Barlow protested but the men ignored him and proceeded to drag the sofa out into the weedy area behind the store where they dumped it unceremoniously beneath the overhang of a giant tree.

Barlow turned to me, his eyes now streaming with tears. “You better go now,” he said in a tiny, yet maniacal voice. “You better goooooooo now,” he said again, this time in a high-pitched voice most certainly not his own.

And then he headed towards the movers.

Shoppers should find Balloon Town in the produce section of their local Barlow Stores by 9AM Saturday.

Area Hospital Tabs Former “Pill Pirate” as House Detective

November 6, 2014 Leave a comment
By Grady Kitchens

By Grady Kitchens


Eastern Defoliated Area General Hospital has hired a new house detective in an effort to combat a recent wave of crime. His name?

The infamous “Pill Pirate”.

The announcement was made this morning in a joint press conference between the Pirate himself, now known as John Berunds, Lankville Bureau of Probes Detective Houston Gee-Temple and Hospital administrator Kurt Rumbus in which no food whatsoever was served.

“Eastern Defoliated needs a man like John,” noted Rumbus. “Our losses due to theft are in the millions this year alone. Thieves have been taking everything from pills and medical supplies to entire room furnishings including sofas, patient beds, and beautiful framed artwork. As you can imagine, it’s very difficult to do our jobs with these sort of shenanigans going on.”

"Pill Pirate" turned writer/detective John Berunds.

“Pill Pirate” turned writer/detective John Berunds.

Berunds, who became reformed in 2001 and began a second career as a successful author of spiritual science fiction novels, spoke briefly of his time as the legendary pirate.

“I stole pills from nearly every hospital in Lankville,” noted Berunds, who now lives quietly with his wife and 14 children in an area suburb. “It was entirely to support my own spiritual illness, you understand, I was chemically altering my life in a way to make it tolerable because I was failing to look within but also without and also up and also over the mountains, the spiritual mountains, you understand. When I was finally arrested [in 1997], I vowed to help others via my literary gifts and also by catching and bringing to justice others in the same predicament. There can be no healing until one is shoved into prison. I believe that.”

“I’m looking forward to assisting Eastern Defoliated,” Berunds added, after an eerie silence.

Berunds would not elaborate on what means he would employ to catch prospective thieves but did say that anything is on the table.

“I would have no problem dressing up as a nurse. Or a female patient. Or a female visitor,” noted the famous bandit turned scribbler.  “I have a number of costumes.”

Berunds will begin his latest position some time in the next month.

Cones Used to Fucking Mean Something

November 5, 2014 Leave a comment
Fingers Rolly Man on the Street

Fingers Rolly    Man on the Street

Used to be, those faggots in orange hats would put out some cones and you’d stay the hell away. It meant something. Now? Don’t mean shit.

Cones have lost their meaning, Fingers Rolly suggests.

Cones have lost their meaning, Fingers Rolly suggests.

They put a cone on the corner of a sidewalk by some son of a bitch bush. There ain’t nothing there- not a goddamned reason for there to be a cone. It just sits there like that fucking desert, just mocking me from my kitchen window. That motherloving cracked brown whore. “You’ll love living in the desert,” the realtor said back in the day. Wish I could find that mollycoddled little asshole now.

Nowadays, people have private cones. What in the hell does that mean? You can just go into Home Dump or some bullshit place like that and buy a whole stack of ’em. You don’t have to show no identification or nothing. Fucking nonsense.

I loathe the desert.

The Lankville Daily News would like to apologize for the preceding article. Mr. Rolly was assigned an article on recycling efforts in the Lankville Highlands.

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Haunted Profiterole

November 4, 2014 Leave a comment
By Ric Royer

By Ric Royer

I decided to order a profiterole for dessert. The waiter brought me a copy of Profiterole Digest. The cover showed a gigantic pile of profiteroles photographed in a red wagon. “We have everything in there except for custard, chocolates, and the one that has the hose attached so you can suck out the cream.” He pressed his crotch as he said that last part but I decided to ignore it.

I went with the “Special Occasion Profiterole”. The waiter disappeared. Ten minutes later, another waiter appeared with the pastry. He went away wordlessly.

I stared at the profiterole. They had presented it well– there were little lines of chocolate all along the plate edge and a series of minced strawberries along one side. They had also placed a little off-white card and the words “pastry ball” had been written there in fine calligraphy. There was also an emergency number printed on the back.

I picked up the profiterole and ate half in one bite. It was then that I became aware of an eldritch phantasm from beyond the borders of this world.

It was then that I became aware of an eldritch phantasm from beyond the borders of this world.

I dropped the profiterole. It had turned green and was covered in blood. I could taste the gore in my mouth but could not expel it. Two waiters, watching from behind a ledge and a series of hydrangea bushes, suddenly expired.

“It was a hell beast, unleashed by your indulgence,” said a voice that sounded not unlike a kindly grandfather. I fell over backwards in my chair. Next, I was being dragged by something unseen, deeply into the purlieu. There seemed to be a lot of vomit there.

The next thing I remember is the cargo train. I was packed roughly into a boxcar full of sacks of grains. There was another man there who had had a series of pastries slammed against his face. He nodded slowly.

It was then that I could finally scream.

Local Office Snack Table Deemed a “Torrent of Lavishness and Superabundance”

November 4, 2014 1 comment
By Brock Belvedere

By Brock Belvedere


A local office snack table has been deemed a “torrent of lavishness and superabundance” by staff members, sources are confirming.

The snack counter, located in the rear of the Supps Cleaning Supplies Quality Control and Safety Division, has drawn immediate and widespread praise.

The cornucopia of snacks that has the business world abuzz this morning.

The cornucopia of snacks that has the business world abuzz this morning.

“We usually have some good snacks, Barbara does a good job of putting a wide range of options out for folks,” noted Director of Communications Glenn Sundberg. “But, when I went back today, I was just blown away. The horn blew for us today and the music that came out was plenty.”

The offerings included two portable pudding packages, an apple, a granola slab, a dish of assorted candies, coffee, and a platter of meats (not pictured).

“I just had a brainstorm to include the meats and the coffee,” noted administrative assistant Barbara Aase, who has been in charge of snack placement in the office for eight years. “I thought the meats would go at lunchtime but people gobbled them up so fast that your photographer couldn’t even include them. I’m not even sure what happened to the protective plastic cover– I think it was crushed underfoot and then hurled far away in the confusion. Anyway, I’m glad people are pleased.”

The luxurious bounty has a dark side, however– two employees are currently missing.

“We have no idea what happened to Dawn and Gerard,” noted Sundberg, as he polished off one of the puddings. “As Barb noted, there was a lot of confusion back there when the word got out. Hopefully, we’ll see them later in the day or maybe tomorrow.”

Aase says that she will experiment with other layouts in the coming days.

“It’s all about presentation,” she noted, as he began scrubbing down the walls surrounding the snack table. “I’m glad everyone is having a good time.”

Lankville Rising Citizen Award Goes to Engines

October 30, 2014 Leave a comment
Mrs. Larry Temple

Mrs. Larry Temple


Miss Holly Engines, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Willard Engines of Route 16, Lankville Highlands, has been selected by the Bureau of High School Achievement Probers as recipient of the 2014 “Rising Citizen Award” sources are now confirming.

Mrs. Holly Engines, Rising Citizen.

Mrs. Holly Engines, Rising Citizen.

Holly was selected on the basis of dependability, service, folding, leadership, and extreme patriotism. She was an overwhelming choice of the Bureau.

“Holly has a heart of gold,” said Bureau member and small pizza magnate “Inner Hammer”. “She took this contest and blew everyone else out of the water. She grabbed this contest and pumped it up like a god damn pyramid, is what she did.”

Holly has been quite active in school, ranking in the top 5% at Supps Bleach and Cleaning Supplies High School throughout her first three years. Along with her academic standing, she has been quite active in extra-curricular activities which include the following: Band 9-11, Chorus, 9-11, Restrained Volleyball 9-11, Track, 9-10, Forensics 9-11, Pep Club 9-11, Lingus Nets 9-11, Yearbook 9-11, Sad Drama Club 9-11, Phone Manners 10-11.

Holly, a junior, has career plans which include college at the University of the Eastern Hills of Lankville.

The Award includes a small university stipend and a year’s supply of small pizzas.

“We’ll be taking care of Holly,” noted “Inner Hammer”. “She won’t have to worry about ordering any god damn small pizzas for awhile. It’s a good lesson for all the kids out there.”

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