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Cathedral Bells Haunt, Taunt Local Residents
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Have you ever woken up from a nap feeling like a tune was playing in your head that you can’t quite remember? Have you emerged from a peaceful session at the Sanduny Sauna Spa with a song in your heart that somehow eludes identification, even as you continue humming it off and on throughout the day, straining to guess what it’s called?
That’s the sensation experienced by many residents of Old Lankville who live in the shadows of the town cathedral on Pondicherry Square. The cathedral, an exact replica of the famous pilgrimage destination in Lanque-Ville-sur-Lac, Lankville’s sister city in a nearby foreign area, features a bell tower that tolls out a different tune at precise 23-minute intervals. Residents, many of whom have lived in Old Lankville for generations, set their schedules by it.
The unusual chiming interval hearkens back to the tradition of a “de profundis bell” that would ring every twenty-three minutes in Lanque-Ville-sur-Lac throughout the Middle Ages. “De profundis” is a foreign phrase that means “out of the depths of despair.” Upon hearing the bell, the poor denizens of Lanque-Ville-sur-Lac would stop what they were doing, kneel, and loudly curse their miserable fate to God or whoever else happened to be passing nearby, often while pummeling themselves in the kidneys.
To modern Lankville residents, the sound of the cathedral bells filling the air is as natural as the thought of the single-serve plastic utensil dispenser at Barlow Foods. But many have noticed a disturbing pattern in the tunes the bell tower rings out.
“The tune at 12:47pm… it’s almost like a song I know by Persons of Interest,” says Deejay Humphrey as he hums an upbeat number, tapping his saddlebag to keep time. Humphrey, longtime music stylist for Casa Montecristo (an elegant reception hall), finds that the cathedral bells often remind him of songs by obscure local bands from the 1980s. “Right about 3:17 every day, there’s a song I’d swear is by the Burburries,” he says. Another, a sort of postmodern number with a pentatonic scale that plays at 11:13am, reminds him of avant-garde trio Or or OR.
“It’s hauntingly familiar,” he says, a thoughtful expression wrinkling his brow. “Even the phrase ‘hauntingly familiar’ is… hauntingly familiar.”
“Dammit.”
Resident Genevieve Rumpus (no relation to reporter Ida Rumpus), meanwhile, finds herself humming tunes by country-rock balladeers the Hickies after hearing the bells on her way home from work. “It’s kind of annoying, really,” she says, especially since she has fashioned a playlist for her commute that includes contemporary light-jazz fare such as Will You Please Stop Talking and Hold Harmless.
Decorative Ham mogul Chris Vitiello has gone so far as to demand, at town council meetings, that the cathedral bells be silenced. He reports recently being “taunted” by a tune that called to mind a song by his own college band, the Muffed Punts.
“How is that fair?” he asks. “I just want to get on with my life and make the best Decorative Hams that money can buy,” yet the bells keep playing their not-quite-exact replicas of familiar songs. Vitiello also proposed shortening the cathedral tower by about twenty feet, as he feels the old church constantly thrusts itself into the sky with a haughty air.
“They should also be whipped mercilessly,” the executive added.
But Vitiello’s impassioned plea did not meet with favor at Old Lankville’s town council meeting.
“Look, it’s tradition,” observes historian Glenn Ogilvie from his office at the University of Southern Lankville. “We may not kneel in Pondicherry Square and scream obscenities like they used to in the old country,” he says – adding that one tune reminds him of an anthem by forgotten indie-rock band the Tumescents – “but the least we can do is put up with a bit of razzing from our cathedral bells a few dozen times a day.”
OPINION: I Got Something You Can Check Twice
Outstanding, Informative Opinions
Hey, Lankville. If you’re still making out your Christmas lists, I got something you can check twice.
Know what I’m saying?
I been both naughty and nice, in case you’re wondering. And I don’t just come to town once a year. Know what I’m saying?
And you sure as hell ain’t gonna’ be pouting over this thing– this thing that I said you could check twice earlier in my article. Nope, I think you’re gonna’ be real pleased with it. Might want to even put it on that list.
Yep, I’d say you better watch out about this thing.
Know what I’m saying?
Better watch out so you can check it twice.
The Lankville Daily News would like to apologize for the preceding article. It is not our policy to publish lewd articles.
Madison to Introduce Unspaced Phrase Prefixes
AN ELECTRONICS CRANNY: QUICK HIT!
12-year old inventor Danny Madison will introduce his latest creation today at an Electronics Cranny Christmas gathering in downtown Lankville.
“Unspaced phrase prefixes,” said the wunderkind at a press conference yesterday. “They are a type of metastat tag allowing for faster electronic searches or “quests” as I like to call them. The unspaced phrase will have a label prefix which I’m putting finishing touches on today. Probably a smiley face or a pizza, something familiar and recognizable.”
Madison claims that the prefix will allow for the grouping of similarly tagged messages.
“Imagine a set of encyclopedias but instead of the information therein being about history, geography, anthropology– all the things that make up our existence, the set of encyclopedias would all be about, say, pizza. That is the power of these unspaced phrase prefixes.”
Madison pointed at a pizza on his workbench by means of illustrating his assertion.
The boy genius, whose handheld computational device “The Reckoner” has sold over a billion units in the past month, will be spending the holidays with his family.
“It will be a time of relaxation and candy but hopefully I’ll have time to knock out a few new inventions,” he noted.
LUXURY: Sanduny Sauna Spa by Eric Gelsinger
Eric Gelsinger is Lankville’s premier authority on luxury spas.
Don’t tell anyone I told you, but Sanduny Sauna Spa may be Lankville’s best kept secret. Here and only here can you can get pampered the way you deserve providing you keep your pretty mouth shut.
Your journey to perfect peace begins when you confront the gray, squat, soot-stained structure of Great Clips Business Plaza and squeeze through the service alley behind El Arroyo Bank of Del Lankville to follow the thin strip of dead grass round the back.
Discarded boxes of Eastern Lankville beauty products pop beneath your feet as you approach the pointed black iron fence, and calm descends upon you. Of course you’ve heard that two out of three people who enter Sanduny Sauna Spa never “come out,” of course you’ve heard it’s best to stay away if you wear jewelry or have a new haircut, but these thoughts only deepen the relaxation taking hold of your tense, overworked body.
You trip over some roots, twigs snap, a tire rolls, and the entrance rears into view. You glance to the side and think: Hail Peter Paul Joseph & Mary if that’s the furniture they’re throwing away into the muddy snow behind a chain-link fence, imagine the furniture inside!
And imagine you must, because once you enter you’re not going to be hearing a peep out of your five senses again. No amount of stress can withstand the bliss that presses relentlessly down with every application of peppermint oil and textured mud. Before you know it, your worries are obliterated, your beliefs negated, and your marriage is revealed to be an irrelevant tribal relic. The relaxation you deserve at last entombs you in lavender and eucalyptus scented mind-melting heat and steam and annihilates the barrier between waking and dream, reality and fantasy, machine and vegetable. Up and down and future and past all collapse. You lose control of your bowels. In a passion of glossolalia you shout out your social security number, ATM password, and credit card info. A tattooed man in black latex takes your hand and leads you to a table. Nothing is as it was or will be ever again.
When you’re done, a wheat-grass shot is a must, and if no one’s looking, why not a smoothie? Tell ‘em throw in every goddam fruit on god’s green earth. Remember: you earned it.
I Want to Tell You About How My New Boyfriend Just Got a Guitar
I want to tell you SO MUCH about how my new boyfriend just got a guitar!
I couldn’t believe it when he told me. “I bought it to write songs for you, Ash,” he said. I JUST ABOUT DIED. Now, he brings it with him wherever we go. We went to the mall the other day and he just suddenly sat down by the fountain and started playing. “Every song I write is going to have your name in it, Ash,” he said that day. I was so nervous and shaky that part of this giant cookie I bought from the food court kind of folded over on itself and fell into the fountain. We are so in love!
We were making out the other night and he suddenly stopped and put his finger up. “Wait right here, Ash,” he said. He brought the guitar into the room and started plucking some of the strings. “Sorry, Ash, I just got inspired. Inspired by your kisses.” I couldn’t believe it. We just have so much in common.
“You ever think about just, you know, renting a van?” he said last night. He strummed a chord for effect. “Yeah,” I said even though I had never previously thought of renting a van. “You know, just taking that van and going to Western Lankville?” he said. “Um hmm,” I replied even though I had never previously thought of Western Lankville. “We’re gonna’ do that, Ash,” my new boyfriend said. “Mark my words, we’ll just ride off one day,” he added.
We are so in love.
A DIY Christmas by Sarah Samways
The holidays are here and they’re here to stay on your couch for a couple of days until things get better with the ol’ ball and chain. Did November kind of fly by and leave you hanging? You haven’t bought any gifts yet?! Not to worry! Here, I’ve provided some simple solutions for the last minute shopper on a shoestring budget.
TECHNOLOGY
Sure, everybody wants a “Reckoner”– who wouldn’t? But in lieu of the latest gizmos and gadgets which are great but expensive, show that special someone how much you care with the gift that keeps on giving: a package of used AAA batteries. Tell them “…it’s an investment that will grow over time.” They will wither with anticipation for Christmases to come. Be sure to include a homemade card! Wrap with festive newspaper and decorative hairbands.
JEWELRY
So, you saw your sweetie eyeing that sparkly choker in the shop window…But it’s a little out of your price range. I’ve got you covered! Macaroni necklaces are always in style! If you’re feeling especially creative, use some tri-color rotini for a bold statement carcanet. If you perhaps follow a gluten-free lifestyle, skip the pasta necklaces and go for a more modern look with silver paperclips. Soda pop tabs are also an option. Really, the sky’s the limit!
TRAVEL
Do you and your loved one need to get out of Dodge (and fast)? Get out of that negative head space and into a destination unknown! Lankville City, the Great Mystery Savannah, the Lankville Big Mountains – these are all fabulous getaways, but they’re not for you. You broke bitch. Never fear, there’s nothing a little construction paper and glitter can’t fix! Make collages, or vision boards, as you might call them if you’re from out of town, using magazine clippings, pretty buttons, and crayons. Tape them above your bed and invite your loved one to join you in “paradise.” It’s sure to be the gift that keeps on giving!
Do you have a bunch of children tugging at the hem of your apron, begging you for toys they’ve seen on the television? They’re good kids and you want them to be happy but there’s no way in hell that they’re getting that newfangled Eskimo Kiss Wally with opposable thumbs. It’s not in the budget and you already gave away your AAA batteries. Maybe next year! But just so the little kiddos don’t get too upset, improvise! Sock puppets are the natural choice but feel free to think outside of the bun – anything can be your littlun’s new friend! A rock collection in an old tissue box, leftover gourds, squeaky dog chews, an apple with googly eyes glued on it…Your kids will love them all!
Be sure to leave any questions/concerns in the comments section below and let me know how this works out for you. Happy Holidays, Lankville!
Joy,
Sarah
A Christmas Tale by Brian Schropp
The hustle and bustle of the holiday shopping season was going on all around me. My folks dropped me off in downtown Lankville with twenty bucks and talk of me getting gifts for my siblings (I was recently relieved of my part time job at “Pete’s Slacks Emporium” for not “making sales” so I had no money). The first thing I did was buy some pizza fries because my stomach was rumbling–that brought down the holiday gift money to $14.60. Unsure of what my siblings would want and pretty certain they wouldn’t get me ANYTHING, I lightly perused the various knick knacks in the gift shop windows and the various wares of the street pitches with little success. I became distracted by a billboard which was introducing a new frozen breakfast sandwich. Their promise of having the ultimate in breakfast sandwiches left me a little excited but highly skeptical since I had never heard of the company. I took out my “reporter’s notepad” to write down their name. It was a few moments after putting my notepad away that I realized my wallet was gone!! I got so wrapped up in the billboard I left myself open to simple petty theft (extremely common in Lankville, as we all know).
I looked around to see if I could spot anybody who might look suspicious. There were just too many people walking in their quickened holiday pace, bumping into me, not noticing I needed help. Luckily one gentlemen noticed my troubles and stopped. “Say there you look quite upset. Is something wrong?”
“My–my wallet was stolen, taken from me in a flash!! My Lankville scooter license, my coupons for all the various food buffets and my holiday gift money, all gone!!”
The gentleman shook his head in disgust. “Yup, that’s life in the big city for you. You gotta’ watch out for pickpockets and challengers. Say, I have some cash on me– maybe if you had something to sell me?”
I turned out my pockets. I had nothing.
“How about those shoes? They look kinda nice, say I will give you a sweet twenty dollar bill for them?”
I thought about it for a moment. Sure, these were new high tops my mom got me but that twenty would bring me back up to my original amount. It would be like having those pizza fries for free!! I took them off and we made the exchange. After a handshake and a few more holiday pleasantries he was gone.
Sure, these were new high tops my mom got me but that twenty would bring me back up to my original amount. It would be like having those pizza fries for free!!
I was shaken up by this whole pickpocket affair and quickly came up with a simple plan, find some gifts and then wait at the pick up spot for my folks. A few doors down I found a store that sold relatively cheap but bright and sparkling jewelry plus a few other plastic odds and ends. I knew this was the place and went in. The woman cashier sourly informed me that I needed shoes to shop. I told her I would be really quick so I grabbed a handful of bright dazzling bead necklaces and a few plastic toys that looked retro. The total came to slightly under twenty and I handed her my bill. She took out a marker and swiped it across the note. “Sir, this bill is counterfeit.” I tried to tell her I just got it from a nice gentleman and it couldn’t be so. She showed me the black mark it left on the bill and also pointed out that the image of President Pondicherry was hand-drawn (and poorly!) and told me that unless I had real money I had to leave the store.
My options were limited. I was back out walking up the street. A few blocks later my feet were getting cold but it was bearable. I stopped at a corner and again became distracted by a small flyer on a lamp pole. It was about a new buffet in the area but the print was really small so I had to lean in close. I didn’t notice the horde of shoppers crossing the street from a light change and after a few heavy bumps my glasses fell off!! The people didn’t seem to notice (being in their own holiday world) and when I was finally able to pick them up, my glasses were crushed.
Now, I am not totally blind without my glasses but it does make for quite the hardship. I tried to retrace my steps to get to where my designated pick up spot was but got lost in the maze of downtown. I was soon overwhelmed and a slight panic attack was setting in. A seemingly kind lady came up to me with a concerned look. I explained all that had happened to me. “You seem in a bad spot kid. If you had a few dollars it could mean all the difference in getting out of here and safely back home.” I agreed with her.
“Now if you only had something you could sell me.”
I told the woman that I wasn’t going to fall for that scam again. She pulled out five one dollar bills.
“You can’t counterfeit dollar bills, only large bills. Have you ever seen anyone try counterfeiting with a one or five, it’d be senseless. It’s always with a twenty or fifty.” I saw her logic in this.
“If you want to give me your socks, your pants and that notepad in your shirt pocket you can have this money.”
“Can’t you just give me the money in the spirit of Christmas or something along those lines?” She shook her head and told me you could never have something for nothing. “This is Lankville,” she pointed out.
I wasn’t sure what I should do. Those five bucks might get me out of here, yet I would be half naked. My deciding factor was that the special thermal “hugger” boxers I was wearing looked like long gym shorts. So the exchange was made. After a few awkward holiday pleasantries I was back on my way.
It was good to have the cash but now I was getting a lot more stares. A few blocks later I was no sooner finding my way that the cold was setting in and late afternoon was turning to dark. I saw a street vendor selling hotdogs and decided to use my five dollars to buy some to keep warm. The vendor sourly told me he usually only sells hotdogs to people wearing pants but would make an exception. I kindly thanked him and ordered two. He took out the same type of marker the lady had in the store and made a line through them. “These are fake son.”
I tried to tell him that you couldn’t counterfeit dollar bills but he told me to get lost. I found a park bench and sat down defeated. A sweet but smelly homeless man sat beside me and we were soon trading our tales of woe. He took out a small bottle and told me this could help with some of my woes and maybe give me some “Christmas cheer”. I took a few swallows and at first felt nothing, then a burning in my throat and chest. A moment after that I was feeling really really good. I honestly don’t remember much after that for awhile, I vaguely recall running around with this homeless man screaming and yelling, maybe the cops chasing us at one point?
I passed out and was shaken awake some time later. I was in an alleyway. It was still nighttime and it was snowing, big beautiful white flakes. A small, alarmed figure shook my shoulder again and then darted away behind some trash cans. I mumbled it was okay to come out, there was no need to be frightened. And much to my surprise out stepped a bumpkin who for some reason was dressed like a Christmas Elf. I smiled and he (maybe she) smiled back with buck teeth shimmering in the white snow. The bumpkin came back up to me and whispered something in my ear with its sweet high pitch whine which sounds like gibberish. The bumpkin wanted me to hold out my hand and drop three acorns into it. The bumpkin smiled at me again and then was gone into the night. I passed out yet again.
I awoke to the sound of a car horn blaring. It was almost dawn and the sound of the horn was coming from my parent’s car. I looked down at myself. I was a complete filthy mess wearing only a trash bag around my waist. Two other homeless men were sleeping on each side of me. I knew I had a lot of explaining to do. On the car ride home, I allowed my parents lecture– “far too old for this stuff to happen to me” and “maybe I really do need help” to fade into the background. I jingled the three acorns in my hand while staring out the window. Maybe this season isn’t about flashy presents or stealing someone’s pants for a few bucks. Maybe it’s about simple goodwill either to human or bumpkin kind. Happy Holidays everyone and remember to keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas!!
Happy Eating,
BRI
The Bowlers of Lankville: A History
There is ample evidence of bowling in Lankville (originally known as “rocks”) as far back as the year -64,000. Archaeologists, working in some wet caves, have found wall paintings depicting small men rolling a rock down a rocky lane into some rocks. “They called it “rocks” and later “bowllsing,” said noted historian Glenn Ogilvie of the University of Southern Lankville. “Bowllsing was popular in specific areas of Lankville all the way down to the Lankville Empire. Various emperors promoted the sport and even had lanes in their summer palaces”. Ogilvie suddenly fell out of his chair and died and was then shot.
The history of bowllsing is hard to trace during the Crepuscular Ages (app. +400- +1200) but emerged as a relatively popular pastime during the Lankville Reformation. “There were no religious connotations attached to the slinging of balls into hard shafts, or pins as they later came to be known,” said noted sports historian B.J. Wilkens, who was interviewed while collecting seashells on a local beach. “Therefore, everyone could enjoy the sport. During the Counter-Reformation, the name was changed to “bowling”, for reasons unclear,” Wilkens added. The historian then continued his collecting (or, at least, what he considered collecting). Really, he was just putting sand in a bucket. When the bucket became overloaded, he would accidentally on purpose drop a great load of it and exclaim loudly, “Why, I’ve gone and dropped some of my seashells!” It was frankly very obvious where this little game of his was going.
The first famous Lankville bowler was undoubtedly “Little Eddie” Browny of the Small Lankville Nearby Islands.
Browny rolled the first recorded perfect game in 1827 and compiled a sparkling 288 average over his 15-year career. “My ancestor, “Little Eddie” was a great traveler, introducing the sport of bowling to several distant places like the Outer Depths, the Desert regions and the Big Mystery Savannah,” said distant relative Jean Kittsle, 92, of Eastern Lankville. “We have some of his letters where he talked about its health benefits, how to maximize the use of poor people pin-setting help and possible future innovations.” In his 1842 pamphlet Bowling: 2000, Browny wrote:
“Perspiration upon the hands is a great hindrance to the master bowler. I envision a device wherein cool air might be blown upon the bowler’s hands to relieve this worriment thereby dispensing with the need for powders, oils, and thick greasy compounds. These toiletries might then be kept at home in a convenient bedside drawer where they belong.”
Unfortunately, Browny did not live long enough to see the great spectacle of the first Pan-Lankville Bowling Tournament held in 1879 (Browny was murdered in a tent in 1850). The “Browny” Tournament was won that year by the great William Heins, champion for three consecutive seasons and the author of at least ten perfect games.
By the 20th-century, bowling became inordinately popular all throughout Lankville. The first true celebrity bowler was the long-time champion Rudy Cheps, who won his first title in 1942 and went undefeated through his retirement in 1955. “I grew up on a farm and I would pass the time rolling hogsheads down hills,” noted Cheps in an interview in 1982. “I got real good at rolling those hogsheads down hills and I think it prepared me for a career in bowling.” Cheps was the first bowler to be featured on television and was a big part of the LBS’ (Lankville Broadcasting System) popular program Commodious World of Sport which began airing in 1952. “I was asked to be on Commodious World of Sport several times and they broadcast a bunch of my games,” said Cheps. “I was interviewed by several notable announcers at the time, traveled all over Lankville, made a lot of money.” Cheps was also known for his enjoyment of the high life. “Yeah, I spent a lot of money, went to all the big shows, all the movie openings, always was one with the ladies. But after awhile, I got tired of the whole scene. You know, you can only jack up so much bare ass before you get tired of it. So, I retired. Went back to the farm.”
Bowling waned in popularity after Cheps’ abandonment of the title. “An enigmatic figure really did not appear after Cheps,” noted Commodious World of Sport reporter Larry Gorman-Thomas. “You had a bunch of nobodies– twenty-some different champs in 15 years. Never gave the public anything to grab a hold of. We stopped broadcasting the sport in 1975 or so.”
In 1982, bowling was removed from the Official Lankville Register of Popular Games. Today, it survives strictly as an amateur entertainment.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Haunted Bridge Abutment
I saw the catalogue sticking out of his bag before he saw me.
“Hey! Asshole! Bring me that catalogue!”
He looked up. He was trying to do the house next door first.
“You do that house first and I’ll shoot you dead, God as my witness”. I was bluffing but he didn’t know that. He walked over slowly.
“I’m a federal employee,” he said, handing me the catalogue along with a batch of other letters that I immediately dropped into some hedges. “I’ll have you arrested.”
“I’ll burn your truck to the ground,” I countered. “Then what will you do?”
He said something but I missed it. I was staring too hard at the catalogue.
Back inside, I immediately opened the catalogue and the laptop and began ordering items in a blind, indiscriminate fashion. About 100 trains, all different gauges, some structures, a huge ferris wheel, some track nails, tons of figures– “Man with pants”, “Cougars and Cubs”, “Hot Dog Wagon”, “Toilet Scene”, they had everything.
In the comments section, below my order, I wrote: FUCK YOU PEOPLE! as I always did.
Three days later, the order arrived in six separate tremendous boxes. The postman shot me a disgruntled look. I kicked him hard in the ass as he walked away. “I’m a federal employee,” he said again.
“I’VE GOT TRAINS!” I screamed. I began crying and removed my shirt. “DISAPPEAR! FOREVER!”
Just as he was climbing into his truck, I crept up behind him and whispered, “You’re inhuman“. He didn’t care for that at all. Then, I dragged the boxes into the basement and began tearing them apart in a slipshod, desultory manner.
I came to the box labeled SCENERY. I screamed for no reason at all as I tossed aside utility poles, bendable armatures, potted flowers and fuel tanks that I could not possibly hope to find a use for. And then I came to the bridge abutment.
It was packaged in ordinary factory shrink wrap. I fingered it delicately. And, in return, I received an awareness of some grim, unmentionable horror. I knew right away that the bridge abutment was haunted.
And I have never truly recovered.
Madison to Introduce “Weather Simulator”
ELECTRONICS CRANNY: QUICK HIT!
Boy-genius Danny Madison, creator of the enormously popular “Madison Game Cube” and “The Reckoner”, Lankville’s fastest-selling handheld computational device, is rolling out another product in time for the holidays.
“The Madison Weather Simulator” goes on sale in stores today. The retail price is $299.99.
“This device is called a “simulator” so as not to frighten people,” noted the wunderkind Madison, who was interviewed while draping a soggy pizza over a bunsen burner. “Really, its powers are far greater than mere simulation.”
Madison gave us a withering stare.
“It’s too bad that we are so frightened of the unprecedented,” he added. “We should all be ready for this, this next stage.”
The Madison Weather Simulator requires the completion of several identification forms and a two-day waiting period to obtain. It will be carried by most major electronics retailers.
Man Finds Dogs
I’m a man who finds lost dogs. That’s what I do. I don’t set out to do it. It’s not my job or anything like that. I don’t get paid for it. I’ll just be walking or skipping along somewhere and boom – there’s a dog, lost. They seem to be there waiting for me, in the middle of a sidewalk or on the edge of a lawn. Maybe they somehow know when I’m coming and they pick that exact moment to break free from their leash, or their house. I don’t know. I just know that I find them.
What do I do with them, you ask?
The other day I was trotting down Hazard Avenue at a healthy clip, not really going anywhere, and I noticed a small black figure crouched half a block ahead on the sidewalk. Sure enough, it was a little dog. The kind of short-haired dog that looks like it’s wet even when it’s not. It was shivering, and gazing forlornly in my direction as I approached. As I stopped to see if I could read its tags I noticed an old woman heading towards us.
“He’s cold, poor thing,” she said, “he needs a sweater.”
I glared at her.
The little black dog wouldn’t let either one of us get close enough to read whatever name and number there might be on its tags. I mean, it would sidle up near us, whining and sniffing at our fingers. And then it would scamper off. After about fifteen minutes of this, I felt the way I always feel when I find a lost dog: angry and excited and frustrated and a little fearful, as though someone might be watching me, the owner maybe, or maybe a special kind of cop assigned to catch people doing things with animals out in public.
Finally the little black dog took off trotting on the sidewalk and I lit out after it. After a couple blocks the little black dog turned into a cobblestone drive and ran into a courtyard behind some houses. After a moment’s hesitation, I followed it.
The little black dog stood on the ledge of a doorway scratching at a large, wooden door, the type of door you might imagine breaking down to save a damsel in distress, if that’s the kind of thing you go in for. I’m a guy who finds lost dogs, so I knocked on the door. When no one answered, I rang the doorbell.
The old lady had caught up to us by this point, against all odds, her cane tapping on the cobblestones.
The little black dog yipped at her.
“Did you try ringing the doorbell?” she asked me.
I found myself reaching for the whip that I keep coiled in my overcoat.
Just then some people came out of the house at the back of the courtyard.
“This your dog?” I asked hopefully but also a little reluctantly, as I danced along the hedge trying to grab it by the scruff of the neck.
They said it was not but one of the folks, a bespectacled, bearded young fellow, indicated that he perhaps recognized the dog. He waved a cell phone at us ineffectually.
People.
It was then that a dark blue roadster sped down the drive and turned sharply into the courtyard. The woman who stepped out of the car had a face that made me nervous, like a plastic bag caught high in the branches of a tree.
The dog ran to her and she picked it up like a sack of groceries, holding it high against her shoulder as it nuzzled her neck, cooing and yipping with pleasure.
“Thank you so much,” she said to everyone and no one. “He runs away but he always comes back.”
The old lady was saying something and the man was holding up his phone and I found my hand gripping the leather handle of the whip.
“He does this all the time. Don’t you?” she said, tickling the dog under its chin, the little black dog yipping and smiling sheepishly, as if in agreement.
I had to do something so I released the whip handle and hit myself in the face. Hard. The woman looked at me and the little black dog sprang from her arms and the old woman gasped. The man didn’t seem to notice. I hit myself again, in the temple.
The sky seemed to get very bright and pulsed red, everything red, and then I was running.
Or trotting. I’m not sure.
But I knew that somewhere out there, waiting for me at the end of another road, was another lost dog.
Still No Answers in Boat Accident
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Despite reports citing speed, alcohol, and massive mental illness playing a role in the December 3rd boat crash on Lankville Vortex Lake that killed 11, a federal Fish, Boats and Flotation Device officer told The Lankville Daily News that the investigation is far from over.
Brent Massey-Aunt, FBFD officer and one of two officers who investigated the accident, said the incident is “still being probed.”
“Whenever there is a boat accident, a lot of stuff sinks to the bottom of the lake or pond or whatever it may be,” noted Massey-Aunt, who was interviewed while he stood at the water’s edge piercing the lake surface with a long stick for reasons unclear. “And we are still looking into the unbalanced and deranged nature of all the known persons aboard. All 11 were complete maniacs but to what extent, we are unsure.”
Massey-Aunt continued poking the water with the stick. Nothing further was offered.
“The thing about speed [is] even at slow speeds, when you have fiberglass smashing into rocks, you’re going to have significant damage,” noted Detective Gee-Temple, who also responded to the scene. “We have to look closely at the rocks. We don’t have a lot [of] answers until we do that. Hell, we don’t even know where the [bodies] are right now.”
We asked Gee-Temple if they might be at the bottom of the lake.
“Could be, could be at the bottom of the lake. Definitely. They could also be in the woods. They could have been stolen. Eaten. Lot of possibilities Lloyd.” The intrepid detective opened a file cabinet and then closed it quickly.
“Why don’t you let the professionals handle it?” he advised.
It is unknown if any of the victims were wearing flotation devices.
“The answers are currently wrapped in a present of mystery,” said Massey-Aunt, in reference to the upcoming holidays. The officer then accidentally dropped his stick into the lake. “Damn,” he said quietly. “Damn. Can’t catch a break.”
A press conference is expected in the next few days.
THE UNHINGED: An Interview with Tom “Vapor” Rayford
Most new Tom “Vapor” Rayford films are a cause for celebration in the horror community. And it is true to say that The Unhinged is a return to form for Rayford, after his 2007 horror/western flop The Dusty Hills Near the Edge of Nightmare and Some Other Hills. Inflamed by Stars and Blood had the opportunity to sit down with Rayford on the set of his newest film due for release late in 2014.
IN: What was the set of The Unhinged like?
TR: Extremely tense and uncomfortable. We all pretty much hated each other.
IN: I’m shocked. How did you manage to endure?
TR: Several times the film nearly fell apart. We had a terrible time with the slow canal boat. It just never did work right and it made everyone angry and hateful. I hate all of them, actually.
IN: What about Crystal T. Slago? For those fans that may not be aware, you guys are married.
TR: No, I pretty much hate her too. I hate this film.
IN: I…I’m not sure what else to ask.
TR: You could ask about my authentic Native Lankville Indian village that I constructed over there on that table. It’s made of wood shavings.
IN: I…
The interview completely collapsed and was ended prematurely.
Lankville Economic Report by Sarah Samways
Sarah Samways is Lankville’s premier authority on economics. She is the Chief Probing Officer of the Quality Assuredness Department. She maintains an individual digital network station at sarahsamways.com
In this past quarter we’ve noticed a spike in washing tables, holding strong at 85%. 10% of the time is spent complaining about it, knowing full well that “ya do what ya gotta do,” “it could be worse,” “you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your belly” and “blindly accepting the status quo could just save your soul from a trip to a mental institution.” Ambition levels, on a separate scale, of course, are through the roof (this is a trend that despite time and life struggle variables seems to never really change, and in some cases, gets stronger). We call this the Hope Factor. This, when polling our focus group, just doesn’t seem to make any sense. Apparently, the pain associated with multiple failures when trying to “succeed” again and again isn’t their cup of tea. In fact they don’t drink tea, carbonated beverages are more their thing anyway. They later forgot about the survey and went out to get some popcorn.
2% of the time is wasted upon viewing flesh-toned-pixels melting and corroding in piles, pretending there’s a personal connection just to get through it. When probed, stimulation is rarely achieved, because our sensors “know too much.” The other 3% is a myriad of intense thoughtfulness, problem solving (on an accurate scale), daydreaming, heartache, the making of new friends and/or acquaintances, and various cat petting.
There is however another trend that is growing at an alarming rate, much to the chagrin of The Man, the creation of content. It’s skyrocketed from a measly 6-7.5% to 72%! We can attribute this to a few things: the reading of and inspiration from other content, a total lack of respect for The Man, a resurgence of power, love/lust, that prefrontal cortex thing everyone talks about, the absolute demand for a better life for one’s family, and the Hope Factor.
We hope you’ve enjoyed this study and perhaps we’ll make eye contact IRL! As always, feel free to click buttons as a sign of your approval, (this data will then be pulled and tucked safely away in storage containers for further analyzation). You guys are the best!
XOXO,
Quality Unified Assuredness Department





































































LETTER SACK