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My Recovery: A Physical and Spiritual Journey
Dr. Kevin Thurston
Dr. Kevin Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.
Much more was broken than just my wrist when I slipped on that ice. Much more.
And that’s why I attended a Warrior Training Adventure.
It was a group of about 30 men. In line with our commitment to ecological awareness, we were asked to utilize alternative methods of transportation to the training site. I rolled myself there in a wagon.
I was guided on my adventure by a bearded man in a sweater vest named Keith. Keith was not aware of my expertise on the subject matter of men’s feelings and, therefore, I had trouble respecting his methods. Nevertheless, other men may find some of the activities useful in working through some of their own physical or spiritual “fractures”.
DAY ONE OF THE ADVENTURE
The Separation: This is about moving away from the familiar. Keith elected to go with team-building exercises and a low ropes course (methods which are now generally regarded as antiquated) as well as indoor group exercises wherein the modern male psyche is purged of accountability, leadership, confrontation and competition. Dinner consisted of a light rice dish and some gelatin.
DAY TWO OF THE ADVENTURE
The Long Descent: An exploration of authentic male emotion, conflict, crying, purpose, and healthy restrained power. Keith elected to revisit the horrors of our individual lives (we went over time during this segment as I found that I couldn’t stop talking) and building connections to the challenges ahead. Lunch, which consisted of roughly-cut meats and uncooked roots, was hidden in the woods.
The Ordeal: A challenge to embrace full authentic masculinity, to step into raw power, and to experience the full potential of mature manhood. Keith elected to go with the “round cushion hunt”– a recreation of primal aggression and war (with the cushions replacing weapons) and we split into teams. Unfortunately, Keith gave me a bright orange pintuck cushion with button tufts that could be easily seen in the forest. I was captured almost immediately.
The Initiation: Accepting responsibility as a man among men. Exploration of group dynamics, diversity, more crying and similarity. A test of solidarity and trust (Keith elected to go with the hackneyed “falling into each other’s arms” exercise which I disagreed with). I also voiced my complaint about the round cushion hunt. As punishment, I was kept out of the first circle of men. Later, I wrote an obscene poem about Keith on a bathroom stall which I now regret.
DAY THREE OF THE ADVENTURE
The Integration: An exploration of legacy, connection, fear, purpose, relationships and intention. Understanding our connections to nature and men and feelings. All of which, I was unable to participate in because Keith found out about the poem.
The Joyous Ceremony: A feast of victory held on some picnic tables. I sat off on my own. Nevertheless, the fierce and rigorous self-examination has been beneficial to me. My wrist feels better and my feelings feel better.
We will be incorporating some of these methods in our next FEELINGS, NOW! session.
Mouthy, Sanctimonious 24-Year Old Hasn’t Produced Any Trash in 3 Years
Kimball J. Cranney
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
At first glance, Gretchen Chairley seems like a typical 24-year-old post-graduate living in Lankville City. Clad in a baggy, shapeless blouse, leather vest and foreign shorts, Chairley’s style is congruent with her parent-subsidized two-bedroom apartment in a South Lankville City development.
While most of us who have jobs utilize “trash cans”, Chairley has a jar.
But a further look beyond the shabby-chic decor and exotic plants reveals something unexpected. A small jar filled with a collection of colorful wrappers, slivers of plastic, an apple and a candy cane sit atop her spotless kitchen counter.
“That’s my trash for the last three years,” she says with a smug, self-satisfied smile.
Indeed, Chairley has barely produced any garbage since she began subscribing to a “Nullity-Waste Lifestyle” three years ago. The idea behind the “Nullity-Waste Lifestyle”, developed by a series of glib, bombastic hippies in 2007, is to eliminate anything that will end up in a landfill or that cannot be pompously composted by Chairley in her self-aggrandizing smart-alecky zero-responsibility day-to-day life– a life that she pretentiously crows on about on her electronic web station site “Trash is For Dumpers”.
As an environmental studies major at Lankville City University, she felt like a “hypocrite” for nattering on about sustainability but still owning a traditional trash can. “I decided to remove plastic from my life entirely,” noted the hifalutin’ self-applauding undergraduate. “I don’t even own a toothbrush or deodorant,” she added haughtily.
Chairley talks about her la-di-da lifestyle.
That meant spending her ample free time finding alternatives to everyday items and crafting several on her own. “I spent quite a bit of time with a wood craftsman learning how to fashion a toothbrush out of oak shavings and horse hair that fell out of the horse naturally, of course,” Chairley pontificated. “I spent a ton of time just waiting around a horse for that.”
Despite her self-absorbed, imperious lifestyle, Singer says she hasn’t really changed– she’s just found alternative means to live her “better than everybody else” life.
“I don’t have to be a stereotype to live a sustainable lifestyle. I just have to be me. My taste is the same. I enjoy the same things. I just don’t make trash and I’m going to tell you all about it for many, many years.”
Chairley’s rants may also be found on scanit.com and as a mobile application on your “Reckoner”.
John Knewstub’s Hard, Cold, Spiritual Facts
With John Knewstub
Sorry, shit for brains, but it ain’t that easy! Now I know what you’re thinking. Of course you wish you’d never been born. Of course you want to rid the planet of every last trace of your worthless existence. But you’re such a miserable piece of shit you don’t have what it takes to murder your parents, much less rack up the body count necessary to ensure perfect extirpation of your memory. Let’s not kid ourselves here.
Now, hold on, okay, I hear what you’re saying. Or I at least smell what you’re saying, Christ Almighty, your mouth reeks like a miscarriage, your tongue’s a rank abortion, but okay, I hear you. Let’s just pretend for a moment you possessed enough energy to take out every member of your graduating class –you don’t have enough energy to wash your stinking behind, but let’s pretend. Let’s say you wiped out every relative, every co-worker, every neighbor, every celebrity unfortunate enough to receive one of your deranged letters. You think that would do it? No, of course not –you’re not capable of thinking with that puking shit-pile in your skull, but trust me when I tell you: you’d still be all too present.
But alright I’m a’give you the benefit of the doubt. Let’s say you mustered the ingenuity to erase your name from all public records –utility bills, library registers –you even manage to unlaminate your membership cards to all those sad little clubs you thought would provide you with meaning and community and shopping discounts. Well, even then, you’d still be as far from this goal as from all your others, you awful, agonizing misallocation of flesh.
What if one of your murdered acquaintances mentioned you to someone? You ever think of that, you pus-souled, fungus-tongued waste? What if you were held up as an emphatic example of cowardice and talentlessness and a luckless, loser life? What if the story of your cerebral and sexual futility passed mouth to mouth like some inverse fairy tale/respiratory disease?
Your problem, you stench, is the interconnectedness of life. You don’t get this whole thing is a tapestry whose intricacy dizzies even divinity. That’s right, you fecal ache, the very spiritual truth which you recognize on some primitive level because you recognize you are a contaminant whose pollution extends infinitely for eternity – this very spiritual truth means you are inextricable. You cannot be uprooted even as you rot the earth around you. You are destined to fester forever and to emit your foul air like an ever-blowing wind which curses the wasted places of this suffering planet. Suffering because of you, you eternal cancer.
Now I Understand the Pain of a South Lankvillian (A Very Special Brian Schropp)
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
My good friend Trucker Joe came by the other day to hang out and grab a bite to eat. We have both been very busy and haven’t had the time to see each other like we used to– Joe, of course, off on his “big riggin’ adventures” and me with my job at the “Pizza-A-Round” plus my new found celebrity being part-man part-bumpkin. As fate would have it, Joe’s rig was in the shop due to a minor accident he had the other week. “I just wasn’t paying attention to the road,” he told me while we both relaxed in my two very comfortable chair recliners in my basement apartment. “I was busy folding my socks coming back from the laundry. That’s the first rule of big riggin’ Bri, never fold clothes and drive your rig at the same time. And I had no idea that school buses would still be on the road that late in the evening.”
Joe’s fender bender.
I asked if he thought there would be any charges brought against him since some of the kids were hurt.
“I don’t think so. It was a bus from Southern Lankville up here on some sorta field trip.” There was an awkward pause. “You know how it will probably turn out.”
We both knew the injustices perpetrated against Southern Lankvillians very well. Throughout our history, they have always been seen as “inferior” to those in the northern half. It’s only been in the last hundred years that they have had any sort of “equal” rights. Both Joe and I being very liberal-minded think much more should be done but it’s hard to fight “the machine”.
After awhile the conversation turned to what was most important, where would we eat today? Joe had only one place on his mind.
“Subs ‘N’ Suds!! Subs ‘N’ Suds!!” He said banging his hands on the arms of the recliner.
He wasn’t the only one excited by the reopening of “Subs ‘N’ Suds”. Even though it had been closed because of various health violations we both never had had a bad meal there plus we thought the concept was top notch. What better way to enjoy a quality sandwich than in a nice warm tub full of bubbles soaking your worries away?
Fritz Malone with a lemur.
The place is owned by a man named Fritz Malone who said he always had a passion for eating in a bathtub ever since he was a child. He also has a passion for the equal rights of lemurs. Fritz believes them to be our “lost cousins” and notes that they should have rights equal to if not even more equal than South Lankvillians. Joe and I argued this with him from the tubs many a time at the old place. He never seemed to hold our views against us and always gave us a hell of a sandwich plus the best soap.
Upon arriving we were greeted warmly by Fritz and his staff but I could tell something was off almost right away. Fritz hugged Joe but only lightly patted me on the shoulder. Joe, who is usually pretty wise to his surroundings (I mean he is a trucker) got too wrapped up looking at the menu board and which tub he was going to select. The place looked about the same at least. Just imagine your typical sub/sandwich shop but instead of tables and chairs rows of nice (and always cleaned before the next customer) bathtubs. Don’t freak out– there are both men and women changing rooms!
Joe babbled on and on about what type of sub he might get while being lead by a worker to the changing rooms. I started to follow but Fritz stopped me.
“Uh Bri, how would you like to try our “VIP Room”? It’s private and out of the way, you can enjoy your meal in peace.”
I tried to tell him how I like to sit out with the other “bathtubbers” to see what they ordered. I was also there with Joe and nothing bonds two friends together than soaking next to each other and eating. Fritz was very persistent and steered me in the direction of the kitchen doors. I turned back to get Joe’s attention but he was already entering the changing rooms (still going on loudly about the subs). The kitchen was busy preparing for the lunch crowd with the smell of fresh cooking bread in the air. Fritz led me to the far back behind the food freezers and the kitchen sinks. In the corner by an emergency exit was a shower.
“Here it is- the lovely “VIP Room”! It’s been booked pretty solid since we opened but for some reason it’s not booked for our lunch today. You will love it, very nice.”
Customers preparing for their meals.
I told him it didn’t look too glamorous or special. He assured me that this was all the rage in “VIP rooms” these days. I was also concern about the lack of a changing area. Again, he said this was a “new thing” and just to close the shower curtain and throw my clothes over. This didn’t sound very relaxing. Could you shower and eat? Would it be the same? It felt very wrong but I still decided that this could be some sort of cutting edge trend that I hadn’t yet heard about.
So I got in, closed the curtain, then threw my clothes over the shower. Fritz told me he would be right back. I waited for what seemed like a very long time– the shower wasn’t all that big and it was somewhat cold back here. What was going on? Did he go to get a menu?
I heard someone finally come back. After a moment a gloved hand reached around the curtain with a sorry looking sandwich on a paper plate. “Here you go,” Fritz said.
“I didn’t order this! You didn’t even give me a menu.” I looked closer at the sandwich. “Is this even something you made or did you get this somewhere else?”
“Bri, just turn on the shower now. It will feel good and the sandwich will taste a lot better.”
I rolled my eyes and tried turning on the shower. No dice, the shower knob seemed to be rusted. I told Fritz this.
“No worries I will be back.”
The “VIP Room”
With Fritz gone again I could definitely tell the food given me was not made here. In fact, it was made two doors down at the “Grit Spoon” a local dive which I haven’t been to in years and for good reason. What was going on here? Why was I back here? Why wouldn’t they serve me their food?
Fritz was back with promises of everything being fixed and that all I had to do was open the shower curtain. Was he finally going to stop this foolery and take me to the main room? I pulled back the curtain and found him standing behind one of his workers. The worker was wearing a hazmat suit and holding a garden hose in my direction. Before I could say anything I was being sprayed by water, the cold spray hit my face and then worked down knocking the plate out of my hand.
“See, see Bri, water feels good right? This is what all the people want in the VIP room!”
It finally dawned on me what was going on. It hit me with the force of Trucker Joe’s big rig. The problem was me.
I told them to stop the hose.
“But it’s what we do for–”
“Come on Fritz I’m not buying that anymore. I want you to tell me the truth.”
“Please Bri, you have to understand it’s nothing personal. I really like you, I really do!! But I couldn’t have you in the tubs you see–.” He trailed off and turned away from me.
“You were afraid that if someone was to use the tub after me they would somehow get “bumpkin” on them. Is that right?”
He nodded his head in shame.
“And the food, you were afraid of giving me your own food because there might be some sort of contamination?”
“People in the area they talk–”
Worker in Hazmat Suit
“You can’t become a bumpkin just using the bathtub after someone or eating after them. No matter what people think you should know the facts Fritz. I knew you had your prejudices and maybe I overlooked them before but I now understand that is wrong no matter how good the food is.” I found the towel nearby (which was dirty) and wrapped it around me and then picked up my clothes “But I will take a reuben to go and it will be on the house.”
I walked out to find Joe. He was on his third meatball sub and his tub water was cold and dirty. After telling him the situation he stood up (without retrieving his towel) and stormed off to change into his clothes. After he came back he told Fritz that he was lucky his big rig was still in the shop or else he would have smashed it through the front doors. Joe also demanded three meatball subs on the house which Fritz made no fuss about.
A few days later I received an “electronic-mail” from Fritz apologizing about what took place. Evidently, his precious lemurs who had witnessed some of what went on are now not even giving him the time of day. He has read up on what bumpkins really are and understands some things more clearly. I can only hope he continues.
Until next time dear readers, keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas.
Happy Eating,
BRI
Ask Catrin
Catrin Lloyd-Bollard answers all your questions.
Dear Ms. Catrin,
I don’t know, my son is asking me to build an igloo with him in the backyard. Thing is, there isn’t any snow around. You can’t build a god damn igloo without snow can you? Plus, there’s the clothesline to worry about. It’s unseemly. I don’t know, what should I do?
Fretting Mom
High Lankville Woodlands
Dear Fretting,
This is an excellent opportunity to foster your son’s creativity and imagination. Hold a fun brainstorming session with him. Locate a pad of paper and a large chisel tipped marker. Allow your son to use the marker. This will give him the opportunity to practice his penmanship and organizational skills. Have him write at the top, “Igloos can be made out of any of the following materials:” and then let the creative juices flow! Encourage your son to think “outside of the box.” I have started the list for you, to get you going:
Igloos can be made out of any of the following materials: 1.) Mud 2.) Woven sticks 3.) Tattered clothes stuck together with paste 4.) Poor people hired to shelter you with their bodies 5.) Igloos 6.) Snow 7.) Balloons
Go Team!
Catrin
———-
Dear Ms. Catrin,
My wife and I eat out in many different places and tipping has always been a great problem for us (we fundamentally don’t believe in it). I thought you might be interested in our solution to this problem.
Now, instead of leaving a tip, we leave a beautiful religious tract. These inspiring spiritual messages are a great force for good and I’m sure they’ve had a wondrous effect on the many waitresses that we have left them for.
It is true, however, that my wife was killed in a challenge. Nevertheless, I will carry on our tradition.
Ken
Special Lankville Fjords
Dear Ken,
There’s a corner store on my block that sells loose cigarettes, three for a dollar. The establishment has no electricity and conducts business by flashlight. The walls are covered with shelves upon shelves of DVD cases, available for rent. The DVDs are arranged haphazardly, with no discernible organizational scheme whatsoever.
I went in for my looseys yesterday and placed four quarters down on the counter. “Three, please,” I said. The shop keep placed an entire unopened back of Lankvoort 100s in front of me. “Thank you,” I said.
An entire pack of Lankvoort 100s for just one dollar — can you imagine that? Now that’s a deal.
Unwittingly yours,
Ms. Catrin
———-
Dear Ms. Catrin,
If a woman marries a widower with children, she then becomes stepmother to the children, right?
What happens if they get divorced and he marries again? Is wife number two still the stepmother or does wife number three become the stepmother? What if both are lost say, in the woods and he marries a fourth woman? Then, I’m guessing, wife number four would definitely be the stepmother. But I’m really confused.
Confused in the Lankville Outer Regions
Dear Confused,
Identity is an ever-flowing, ever-changing performance. Don’t let labels define you. We are all many things: step mother, boating enthusiast, arsonist, collector of plush children’s toys, lactose intolerant. We all can, if we so choose, traverse the infinite length of the identity spectrum throughout our short, unfulfilling lives.
I love you,
Ms. Catrin
———-
Dear Ms. Catrin,
I went camping with a prospective life-partner recently and the tent collapsed. My life-partner didn’t seem too concerned about it, just kept staring at the raging fire and whispering, “Let it alone, let it alone” over and over again. Later, a fervent wind came along and took the tent up into some trees. I had to sleep in the car.
What should I do in the future?
Pat W. Green
Western Pines
Dear Pat,
Murder usually is an effective solution.
Yours,
Ms. Catrin
———-
Dear Ms. Catrin,
Catrin, I never had a date in high school. I remember how out of it I felt when Monday morning would come along and all the other girls were talking about the fun they had at the Coconut House or the Casa Montecristo or the Big Stadium.
Recently, I went to my high school reunion and many of the men that I would have given my eyeteeth to date in high school came up and told me how much they admired me, saying they had been awed by my height (I am 6’8) and athletic ability (I’m really good at Handbats). They said they regretted not asking me for a date and it was their loss!
That made up for all the pain I felt as a teenager. I thought you’d like to know.
Bonnie Patrick-Dean
Showy Northern Suburban Area
Dear Bonnie,
Thank you for sharing. Your wisdom, I believe, will provide some succor to today’s suffering generation of grotesquely-oversized high school girls, lacking in dates, friends and personality. I cannot particularly relate to this problem, as I had so many dates in high school that I couldn’t keep the doctor away. But yes, Bonnie, indeed — sometimes our lot in life does improve with time.
However, ladies, don’t get your hopes up too high. Chances are, you will have to make do with a life-long commitment to your extensive collection of plush children’s toys. Although I have heard that Brian Schropp is single and looking.
Regrettably yours,
Ms. Catrin
———-
Dear Ms. Catrin,
I made a New Year’s Resolution to stop buying balloons but I am finding it harder and harder to refrain. So far, I am hanging in there because I know it’s probably better for me in the long run but still, I am not convinced it is as terrible as people make it out to be. I know some people who are quite old and have been buying balloons since they were 20. What is your opinion on the issue of buying balloons?
Tara Crown-Flowers
The Hills
———-
Dear Tara,
It’s an unpopular opinion, and some may accuse me of enabling — or, even worse, of suffering from addiction myself — but I am of the mind that one cannot buy too many balloons. What better feeling is there than to wake up in the morning to a sunlit bedroom full of glistening balloons? Or, even better, to lay flat on your back, gazing up past the shoulder of your indefatigable lover upon a bedroom ceiling covered in bright, bloated balloons?
And there is nothing quite so magical as a balloon hovering midway between floor and ceiling, having lost just enough of its helium to keep itself suspended in midair, like a humming bird.
Our time on Earth is short, Tara, and one must enjoy with abandon the simple pleasures life has to offer.
Always and forever yours,
Ms. Catrin
Lankville Vending Machines Under New Management
By Ida Rumpus
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
There are certain things, as citizens of Lankville, that we count on. Fresh, breathable, slightly off-color air. Winter trees festooned with plastic bags. The right to shower as long and hard as we want to. Sometimes, living where we do and enjoying the bounty and beauty of Lankville and its environs, we take these things for granted. We wake up and just assume that they’ll be there, like the Woods or the Mud Pits.
And then one day, they’re not.
Read it and Reap: Under New Management
Such is the case with one of our local points of pride and commerce: reliable, well-stocked vending machines.
When it was discovered last month that vending machines across Lankville were running dangerously low on supplies of Barlow Foods Braided Honey Twist Wheat Helices, Salty Crab Cake Crackers, and Double-Dipped Bow-Tie Licorice Ribbons, residents were rightly incensed.
“I don’t work hard all day in the Lankville State Office of Financial Excellence only to find nothing in the machine but Moon Chips,” snapped Dave Schlarsberger from his office in Carmody Hall. Schlarsberger, an assistant vice president in the OFE, then reminisced about a “bounty” he once found in an overstuffed bag of Braided Honey Twist Wheat Helices, until a passing administrator challenged him and he had to sign off.
Sad Sacks: Area Youths Dispirited at Dearth of Snacks
Fortunately, President Pondicherry and his staff sprang into action as soon as it became clear what was happening with the machines.
“The vending machines are under new management,” said Sue Ely, spokesperson for the president. “We can’t have gangs of ruffians and old people mismanaging such an important part of the local economy.”
Ms. Ely assured this reporter that henceforth vending machines will be run by competent youths and frequently (and fully) stocked with the tasty treats we all love. Dave Schlarsberger, and all of Lankville, is grateful.
Men’s Feelings Expert Thurston Injured in Ice Mishap
By Lloyd Byas-Kirk
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
It’s been a difficult winter in Lankville and not even celebrities are safe. Lankville’s foremost expert in men’s feelings, Dr. Kevin Thurston, succumbed to gravity with an assist from ice last week shattering his wrist.
Dr. Kevin Thurston, expert in men’s feelings, shortly before he fell on his wrist.
Donations, flowers and large mylar balloons can be sent to Dr. Thurston, c/o Eastern Defoliated Area General Hospital, Rooms 457, 458 and the part of Room 459 that doesn’t have the old guy in it, Eastern Lankville, 215.
Royer to Appear Nude
By Dennis Updatables
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Enigmatic Lankville businessman Ric Royer will appear nude in a pictorial magazine appearing on newsstands today.
The magazine– CAUTION: MEN! are believed to have paid Royer $10 billion (Lankville) for the photographs.
“Everyone knows that Rock [sic] is a sex symbol in and around Lankville,” noted magazine editor Clint Knepper, who founded CAUTION: MEN! in 1987. “We have been in negotiations with Ric for quite some time. At first, we offered food and a tall ladder, then we went back and forth for awhile, and finally we landed on the amount [of $10 billion].”
Royer, who was interviewed while attending an ambiguous outdoor pageant, downplayed the pictorial.
One of the Royer nude photographs (money shot removed).
“It’s just me lying in a bed with some shorts on. Then, I take the shorts off. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to enjoy this pageant.”
Royer turned towards the stage and watched carefully as a series of actors shot dangerous fireworks into the crowd.
Some are decrying the photographs.
Ida Rumpus, occasional Lankville Daily News contributor and chairman of the Lankville Probity Board, called the images “pornography.”
“You could argue that the images themselves are not lewd (although they are) but they are made lewder by the captions that the magazine printed. Taken all together, they are most certainly filth.”
The captions in question read, “I have a strong tongue and I can take it to the hoop” and “Christmas Shorts”.
“[Ric] wrote those himself,” noted Knepper. “In fact, he insisted on them.”
Rumpus says she will protest the appearance of the magazine today.
“There’s no place [in Lankville] for this sort of garbage. CAUTION, MEN! needs to learn that pornography leads to pizza stripping and challenges. These are things we’d like to see gone from our landscape.”
Adventures in the Red Light Pizza District by Brian Schropp
By Brian Schropp
BRIAN SCHROPP ON CUISINE
For whatever reason, Scott, my manager at the Pizza-A-Round, has taken a real shine to me lately. Talk around “the pizza cooler” is that it’s my new found popularity/curiosity over the revelations revealed in my last article. I have heard locals and even reporters on the Lankville Action News refer to me as “Mankin”, “Bumpan” and the standard “Freak”. I’m almost like a hometown celebrity!! However, I like to feel that Scott’s sudden interest in me stems more from my hard work (dishes looking cleaner) and improving to a 26% success rate on my phone orders.
Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.
The other Friday night after closing down the shop and securing his guns, Scott asked me if I had any Friday night plans.
I told him that the 11:30 close is pretty late for me. I would probably go home, have a midnight breakfast sandwich or two and then try watching some scrambled porn on the Lankville Cable (my parents bullheadedly refuse to subscribe).
“Listen Bri,” Scott said to me with the deadpan, serious, almost frightful look he gets sometimes. “You need to start living a little. You’re starting to get a name for yourself and you also want to write really good articles for the paper. No one is going to take you seriously unless you really live it up!! Let Chet and I take you someplace we go on Friday nights. I swear you will have fun and might learn a thing or two. Something you can put in your little articles.”
Chet Cameron, okay guy.
As if on cue, Chet Cameron (nephew of the dreaded Hank Cameron, manager of Foodville, (but who is actually an okay guy most of the time) came walking up wiping his dirty hands (he never washes them at work) on his standard ‘Pizza-A-Round’ shirt. “What!! We’re taking him with us?!!”
Scott walked up and whispered in Chet’s ear. His eyes suddenly became wide and he smiled. “Hey Bri, you can have the front seat!!”
So, with that we locked the front doors and sped off in Scott’s 1987 Neptune blasting some old hard rock classics. I wondered where we were going, a diner perhaps? Maybe some type of late night book club which served some delicious offbeat food?
Driving into the heart of Downtown Lankville and the red light district I became a bit nervous. And when we pulled up to our destination I was even more so. It was one of the many topless pizza places springing up around Lankville which many social and religious groups are trying to shut down. I tried to voice my concerns about going in but they would have none of it.
“Bri, the pizza here is top notch ,” Scott said, checking to make sure he had a gun in his waistband. “You can make a review of it!!”
“Yeah, there are also a few other top notch things in there as well!!” Chet ‘joked’ rubbing my shoulders. They both laughed but I didn’t get it. Did they serve pizza bites as well?
The bright lights, the loud music, half-naked people fondling each other, it was like an alien world to me and that was just the parking lot!! We walked inside and were greeted by a “host” named Roberto who seem to know Scott and Chet well. I was taken aback for a moment as I stared further in and saw the various platforms with women of all sorts swinging from poles. I returned to reality when I saw a waitress pass by with a menu and then began to think about the pizza Scott had mentioned.
Roberto tried to seat us at a table that was far back from all the action but Scott shook his head. Scott pointed to me and said something to Roberto (couldn’t hear because the music was very, very loud)– whatever it was delighted him. Roberto ran over and grabbed my hand and led all three of us to a table very close to one of the platforms. He kept saying something to me like “Bumpkin Man” over and over (again the music was LOUD and I couldn’t really hear). Very soon Roberto had a few topless waitresses bring over some drinks which were “on the house.” I wanted just a water but several colorful mixed drinks were put in front of me. I am of course wary of the dangers of alcohol so I didn’t partake. Scott and Chet on the other hand started drinking them like they were going out of style. I tried to ask one of the sweaty boobed waitresses for a menu but they kept bringing drinks. Scott and Chet seemed to like it, I felt the body odor was going to turn me off from eating (although I was terribly hungry by now).
Roberto, the club owner.
Roberto started bringing people over and introducing them to me. City Officials, D-list actors (some who I recognized from direct to video movies), and even some actresses who might have been on the scrambled porn channels I would be watching if I was at home. On one hand it was nice to feel popular but I was starting to get light-headed from not eating. I wanted to tell Scott but he was taking full advantage of all the women coming our way (Chet as well). I finally got Roberto’s attention and he promised me that a new pizza he had his kitchen create just for me was on its way. He was calling it the “Bumpkin Delight”.
I became even more light-headed. The lights, the noise, the sweat all started to get to me and I fell into a daydream about the pizza that was coming. When I finally came around I found a woman (old enough to be my grandma!!) sitting in my lap. Her name was “Honey Rose” and she was the oldest and most sought after stripper in the red light district (or so she said). She was whispering sweet nothings and other crude assortments in my ear. I took a look over her shoulder and realized I was out of it longer than I thought and the “Bumpkin Delight” was already at the table. But the worst part was the other people who were crowding around the table were already eating it!!
Honey Rose, the oldest pizza stripper in the district.
I desperately tried to work my arms around Honey Rose to get a slice but she was a real pro. She kept whispering in my ear while fondling me up, down and all around (my left man boob was mighty sore the next day). As fate would have it the pizza was soon gone. It took me a few more minutes but I soon got “Honey Rose” off my lap and I made my to find the kitchens to see if they could make another pizza.
Fighting the crowd who wanted to meet me and “touch a mankin to see what it feels like” I found a side hallway which lead to the kitchen. It was a large area which was quite messy and seemed to be lacking any cooks. I called out if anyone was in here and if they could bake me another “Bumpkin Delight”. I heard a squeak from around the corner and a clattering of dishes. I made my way over to the sinks and to my horror found a small creature huddling in a corner wearing an apron and washing gloves. What made it even worse was that it was chained by the ankle. I moved forward and tried to tell it that everything would be ok but it shrank back shaking and squealing louder. And my heart sank when I realized that this was actually a bumpkin.
At that moment Roberto showed up, he wasn’t pleased that I was back in his kitchen. Something took hold of me, not sure if it was my hunger or my shock of seeing one of my half-kind being treated like a slave. I grabbed Roberto by his jacket and slammed him hard against the wall and yelled why would you do such a thing. I instantly realized my mistake, I was no fighter and he was much stronger. He grabbed me by my pizza shirt and slammed me against the wall. Before he could beat me black and blue there were two gunshots. Scott had showed up in the nick of time, he had fired the shots into the ceiling “Let him go Roberto!!”
The “Bumpkin Delight” I never got to try.
The shots had set off the water sprinklers and the alarms. Roberto let me go and I explained the situation to Scott. He pointed the gun right at Roberto “How dare you chain up his kind and use it as slave labor!!”
Roberto dropped to his knees with his hands raised. The water from the sprinklers was pouring over him.
“That isn’t a bumpkin you idiots!! It’s my pet monkey, “Ralphie”. I use him to cook the food and wash the dishes to save on money.”
Sure enough “Ralphie” jumped over to Roberto’s arms and started hopping up and down. Upon closer inspection I could see it was a monkey, maybe my light-headedness and talk of a “Bumpkin Delight” pizza got me confused. I tried to apologize to Roberto but Scott told us we had to get out fast. The bouncers were coming down the hall and it wasn’t going to be pretty when Roberto had back up. Scott and I bolted out the emergency exit just before a few bullets buzzed over our heads!!
Outside the strippers and customers stood around soaked from the sprinklers and wondering what was going on. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Scott yelled at me to run to the car as fast as I could. Luckily Chet was waiting with the motor running. “Honey Rose” ran up to me before I could get in. “Bri, will I ever see you again?” I squeezed her hand and told her I would never forget her. Scott kept telling me to get in the car.
Ralphie the monkey, who I mistook for a bumpkin.
We started to speed away with the music blasting when the bouncers reached the parking lot. Only a few more shots were fired and by that time we were a good distance away.
I was afraid Scott was going to be mad at me for losing his favorite Friday night spot. He chuckled and said there were plenty of topless pizza places around Lankville. I could tell he really had taken a shine to me!!
Well until next time please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas!
Happy eating!!-Bri
Seven Habits of Highly Successful Lankvillians
By Shelley Reports
You’ve surely seen them swanning around the “fine cuisine” section of Barlow Foods, or carefully selecting a Vitiello Decorative Ham in preparation for the holidays. You may have bumped into them in the Sanduny Spa and Pharmacy, enjoying a nice steam bath and picking up a prescription. But did you ever wonder what makes the most successful citizens of Lankville tick? What is it that lifts them above the fray into a life of ease and notoriety, while you struggle pathetically in the muck?
The Lankville News interviewed our most successful townfolk in order to find out what habits they have in common.
1) They dig tunnels. Lots and lots of tunnels. When a mysterious tunnel was recently found near the entrance to the Barlow Foods Sporting Arena, many citizens wondered if the tunnel – which featured a fully stocked wet bar, a collection of plastic bags, and various animal-trapping devices – was the work of a crazed group of revolutionaries or a government project gone wrong. As it turns out, it’s neither. Successful people like to dig tunnels, according to psychologist Winifred P. Temple. Where they lead is of less importance than what they represent: “A place to work out ideas and explore the supreme Id,” said Dr. Temple.
Lankville’s finest having a “gabfest”.
2) They are up before you and they’re still going long after you retire to bed. Like the “Alpine Swift,” which can remain aloft for 200 days straight, sleeping as it flies and flying in its sleep, the most successful Lankvillians’ heads rarely touch their pillows. Instead, they manage to catch a few Z’s while doing the mundane tasks of the day. Whether it’s bathing, eating, driving, or balancing spoons on their noses while contemplating the universe, these shining examples of productivity have mastered the art of doing it while they doze.
3) They eat mud. The mud around Lankville – especially the mud that burbles in the recently reopened Mud Pits – is especially rich in minerals. While even the heartiest Mud-Pitters eventually wash themselves off upon emerging from a game of “Clod Hurling” or “Sticks and Leaves,” successful folks know the secret locked inside the mud. They even have recipes for it. “Mud cakes, mud tamales, even mud lollipops,” says Genevieve Rumpus, laughing as she reads from her family recipe book. Mrs. Rumpus makes all these and more for her husband, ensuring a long life of health and rigor.
4) They know how to live “the good life.” Imagine a typical night out with the family: struggling to park the car near Pondicherry Square, waiting on line at the Decorative Ham Expo, fighting off Bumpkins, and finally settling for a slice and soda at “Pizza-A-Round” before heading back home, broke and exhausted. There has to be a better way, right? A way to avoid the hassle and hubbub, to get exactly what you want, when you want it, free of roving Teenage Girls and rogue balloons and killer snowbanks? For the most successful Lankvillians, there is. They know that way. And they’re not telling.
5) They wear hats that are three sizes too big for their heads. A large hat represents many things, according to Dr. Temple. Confidence, even cockiness, when it comes to one’s power and authority in public space; a sort of “devil may care” attitude about the perceptions of others; finally, a complex and paradoxical pride in but indifference to material goods. “What they’re saying is, this hat could be blown off in The Woods or snatched by a Subway Cretin or a Bumpkin, and guess what, I don’t care. But I want you to notice it,” asserted Dr. Temple.
Yes, they are looking down on you
6) They use a lot of catchphrases and “hip” lingo. If you are riding the Lankville Subway on a Friday evening – perhaps the KY Express headed uptown to the Heights – you might overhear a group of well-heeled strangers exclaiming “Boffo!” or “Blimey!” or “That’s so jive!” These elocutionists are no doubt among the creme-de-la-creme of Lankville’s upper crust, expressing themselves as only they can. Patois, jargon, and slang are the particular purview of their breed, as common idioms help them to identify other members of their “tribe” and spice up their communication. So the next time you hear someone saying “The fat’s in the fire!”, take it “straight from the horse’s mouth” and “don’t get caught with your pants down” – you are privy to a “convo” of some of Lankville’s finest!
7) They keep in touch with childhood friends. What good is all the money and success in the world if you don’t have people to share it with? Especially people whose very fiber is intertwined with your own, whose roots stretch back to the playgrounds where you first cavorted, the fields in which you first gamboled? As Dr. Temple pointed out, Lankville’s best and brightest feel this need most urgently. Thus they habitually track down old flames and friends on Lankbook, making sure to share every triumph and post every image from their luxurious lives. “It’s just their way of being generous,” noted Dr. Temple.
If you already do some or all of these things, perhaps you are already one of Lankville’s most successful citizens. If not, it’s never too late to begin acquiring their habits!
So, You Daft Assholes Will Debate the Fucking Color of a Pair of Pants but You Won’t Read the Lankville Daily News?
By Marles Cundiff, Editor-in-Chief
A LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
I just want to try to get something straight.
Basically, you daft bunch of assholes will stare endlessly at a picture of a god damn pair of pants but you won’t read the Lankville Daily News?
I got that about right?
For example, our analytics indicate that five million more people debated the fucking color of this pair of pants nonsense than read Elliott Cumber-Lanny’s important, dare I say groundbreaking report on the deadly snowbank. And evidently over seven million more people stared at these pants than read Gump Tibbs’ penetrating interview with female contributor Sarah Samways.
Are you a bunch of pig-headed mongoloids?
We work hard at the Lankville Daily News to bring you hard-hitting reports, important, modern opinions, innovative electronics articles and up-to-the minute bumpkin notices.
And all so you screwsticks can natter on endlessly about whether a cheap, shitty pair of pants are blue, yellow, or green.
FUCK OFF,
Marles Cundiff,
Editor-in-Chief
Gump Penetrates
By Gump Tibbs
It’s time for another penetrating interview with Gump Tibbs. Today, Gump interviews contributing female Sarah Samways.
GT: So, you have that little area in the paper where you are a female who contributes?
SS: Yes, I started out covering the economics/business section but it quickly grew into other things like interviewing old ladies in the middle of nowhere who would push me into empty pickle barrels. It’s been quite the rush!
GT: Absolutely fascinating! Do you often contribute?
Samways in the Snow. It’s been snowing a lot.
SS: I contribute as much as possible. If I’m not eating, sleeping, or wrestling with condiments, I’m contributing. Lankville is an interesting place with lots of people begging for their stories to be told. It’s a journalistic endeavor that I’m proud to be a part of.
GT: Wait, they beg?
SS: Actually, they kind of demand it. People often see my press badge and will come up to me on the street and they won’t stop talking until I promise to write something about them. Lankville’s citizens aren’t shy in the least.
GT: (laughs) They really aren’t! What other things do you contribute to?
SS: Right now I maintain a digital workstation at SARAHSAMWAYS.COM where I take a break from the hard-hitting news that Lankville provides, and focus on sad-girl-poetry. Ya know, it’s something to do.
GT: Really terrific! You won a trophy a few months back. How did that feel?
SS: Amazing! I really wasn’t expecting it. I mean, now I always have a speech prepared wherever I go just in case hell freezes over again. But really, it was super fantastic!
GT: Just fabulous! You have a lot of wonderful adventures. Do you want to go fire guns into some old cars at the dump?
SS: It would be an honor!
Tibbs and Samways ran off and the interview was ended prematurely.
Let Me Help You With Your Elevator Ride
By a device inside an elevator.
OUTSTANDING OPINIONS
Let me help you with your elevator ride.
It doesn’t matter how far you’re going. Doesn’t matter if you’re going all the way up to the fifth floor or all the way down to the basement where they have those weird heavy air tanks and the rolling bins of cardboard that never move. I’ll take you there. You and me baby.
During our ride together, I will break things down for you. Just look at the ersatz wood paneling around me, focus on it, let your mind wander a little. If you want to smoke, that’s okay with me, if you want to drink, go ahead. Just let me do the driving.
Put your head down, darling. I’ll take you there. Nobody else but me and you.
Hold on to the rails. Might keep you from falling over. Because once I pick up speed, I’m not stopping. You wouldn’t want me to stop. It’ll be a little rough but you like it rough. Don’t you, baby? Don’t you?
Eventually though, I’m going to stop. You won’t even know it. It’s going to be like someone dropped you on a downy feather bed in the sky. You’ll hear the little electronic “ding”– you’ll be breathless by then. And you’re going to be all, “Oh, are we there?” and I’m going to be all, “Oh yeah, we’re there baby. We made it. Together.”
That’s when the doors will open.
I’ll see you again.
I’m Gonna Beat the Piss Out of that Guy at the Men’s Shop
Fingers Rolly
REMONSTRATIONS OF FINGERS ROLLY
I like a normal white button-up shirt. You can maybe sell me on a restrained checked pattern but that’s about fucking it. Don’t even come near me with one of those wild god damn jungle-themed horseshit shirts with the tigers all over it. You do and I’ll kick your dick in, I will that.
So, the other day, I’m just standing around at the stack of dress shirts that sit in the middle of the men’s store like some sort of beckoning pyramid. I’ve got a low wail going because I’m thinking about that absolute whore of a desert, that brown sweeping slut of tumbleweeds and I’m also tearing the plastic wrapper off shirts indiscriminately. I escalated to a medium-level scream after a few minutes.
That’s when this horse’s ass comes over.
“Sir, sir, these shirts must stay sealed. They are direct from the factory.”
He bent over the big pile of shirts and plastic wrap like he was picking up a god damn fancypants tea set.
The Fashion Elephant
“I’ll take my belt off,” I threatened. He looked at me– he had some little tight suit on, clearly he was a twilighter.
“These shirts will stay sealed. And you sir, can GET OUT!”
He escorted me out of the store and into the mall corridor. Some fucker was there in a clown suit with balloons. I looked down at the little silver strip on the floor– the strip that separates individual stores from the communal corridor.
“The Fashion Elephant no longer wants your business,” the guy added by means of a finale.
But by then it no longer mattered. By then, I was full thrust in thinking of that mongrel bitch of a desert.
I screamed into the clown’s face and don’t remember anything after that.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: I Will Box You
By Ric Royer
One day, I walked into a gym in a lower-class Island neighborhood. I walked right up to the ring and smashed a bottle of orange soda into the canvas. The boxers looked up.
“I will box you,” I said. The orange soda seeped towards their shoes.
“Get in here, you fuckin’ frog,” said the boxer. His manager, clad in protective gear, backed away.
I was wearing a bathrobe, some camoflauge short pants and a pair of penny loafers into which I had shoved quarters for effect.
“Hey, better get the frog some trunks, maybe some shoes,” called the manager, now outside the ring, relieving himself of his protective burden.
They brought me some proper gear and a small group of Islanders gathered around the ring. The manager rang the bell. Within three seconds I was hit by an uppercut and collapsed into the ropes. I recall a short burst of cheering and then nothing.
Hours later, I was in an outdoor chaise-lounge by a pond. I had a terrific headache.
“That’s what you get for egging on that Island boxer,” said a little man, who sat off among the reeds. He was clad in ancient, unfashionable clothes and wore small grandma glasses. Clouds approached from the east.
“After the fight, well, I don’t know if I can call it that– after your destruction, the Islanders strapped you to a chair and marched you around the pizza block. That’s where they have all those pizza restaurants. They took you in and out of some of the restaurants. They bought a pizza and shoved a lot of it in your hair. I tried my best to get the sauce out but you really should have a shower.”
The little man handed me a glass of iced tea. I took a sip. It was awful.
“Yes, that is awful iced tea,” he agreed. “It’s pond iced tea. This pond is all iced tea.”
“I’ve never…”
“No, it’s completely unique in the world. You would not have.”
We watched the sun go down together.
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