Archive
Ordeal of a Cosmonaut
“Astronaut” Nick Del Rio
The Lankville Daily News is annoyed beyond measure to present a new series by noted “astronaut” Nick Del Rio.
My fascination with space began at a young age. Dad would drop me off at the library. He’d say, “You’ll be spending nine hours here while I go to the offtrack betting place that we don’t tell Mom about. Use it wisely.” I would head right to the science section and devour the great tales of the pioneering astronauts– all of them, Armstrong, Aldrinson, Colbys, Ricer, Hossdoggs, Rance Mullinks, I just couldn’t get enough. To this day, I return to their stories for inspiration.
I have a picture of Rance Mulliniks and Dr. Ernwhitts (who never returned from space) cotside as I orbit a new, unknown orange planet. I am nearly out of reach of man’s primitive signals which is a mixed blessing as someone has given out my cell phone number and I keep getting messages telling me what a liar I am. But I am not deterred. For, out of the portal is my planet.
I don’t yet know what it will be called. I reflect upon this. An email comes in announcing that Dick La Hoyt has been punched in the face again. I am saddened by this news from earth despite the fact that Dick constantly leaves rude messages on my Lankbook page (along with tens of thousands of others). I suppose I should not be so hard on him.
The darkness here is ethereal. It is so delicately refined. The stars are delicate– like a lamb or one of those complicated Easter treats. I am in awe.
As I move closer to the dark side of this strange planet, my measurements confirm that I have only a few minutes longer before transmission with earth is completely aborted. I radio Control. For a long time, I hear only faint murmurings, then something mysterious comes in clearer. It sounds almost like the ambient noise of a party– the ebb and flow of conversation, the sound of cake being passed out, the squeak of balloons skirting the ceiling as if blown by a sudden, fervent wind. Finally, Lowenstein confirms my report.
“Go ahead, Nick,” he says, “Go ahead to the distant side of the planet.” He seems almost as if he is attempting to stifle laughter and the room behind him has grown suddenly quiet.
“Confirm functions,” I state, clearly.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, functions are great,” he says. I begin to wonder what is so funny.
“Confirm fuel intake.”
“Yep. Just great. Keep going there, Nick,” he says. I hear an eruption of laughter from a woman somewhere.
“Confirm atmospheric pressure.”
There is a sudden loud jolt and a series of quiet whisperings.
“Yep. Really, just perfect. Keep going, Nick. Keep going. No need to call back.” Transmission is abruptly ended.
I reflect upon this strange exchange. The light grows dim as I bear witness to a magnificent eclipse. I look back to the earth for the last time.
There is no going back.
Lanklove on the Rocks: Sex Scandal as Popular Site Gets Hacked
By Lloyd Byas-Kirk
“CAUGHT IN A BAD ROMANCE”
Dave Schlarsberger, married for 22 years and assistant vice president in the Office of Financial Excellence at Lankville State University for almost as long, was looking for a bit of discreet “companionship.” Katie Lynn Rumpus wanted to find someone with whom she could, in her words, “work out the kinks” in what had become a sedate home life with her longtime husband. The two found each other via the popular Lanklove.com online dating interface – and now all of Lankville has found them out.
Dave Schlarsberger: Wanted Snacks, Not Hacks
Late last night a group of “hacktivists” calling itself the Lanklove Liberation Front dropped 22 jigabites of data into a “dark corner” of the News parking garage, containing the names, addresses, and predilections of thousands of local residents. The LLF announced it had breached Lanklove servers several weeks ago, and demanded the popular site immediately begin offering specialty sandwich and decorative ham delivery in addition to its other services. CEO Knute Beiderbecke staunchly resisted this demand, pointing out that the hiring of drivers to deliver said food items would cut perilously into his bottom line. Furthermore, he added, the Lankville food delivery market is more or less saturated, between Five White Guys Food Trucks and the new Schropp’s Slops.
“The irony is that I really was just looking for someone to share a late-night snack with,” said Dave Schlarsberger from his office. Schlarsberger, long bereft at the paucity of snack options in campus vending machines, claimed he logged onto Lanklove hoping to find someone as enthusiastic about Salty Crab Cake Crackers and Goudy Gorilla Chee-zits as he is. In Katie Lynn Rumpus, he thought he’d found a match. “Now my wife is furious,” he said, “and people are giving me strange looks in the hallways.” Schlarsberger is now sleeping on the couch – snackless – and worried he might have to take a lesser position at Eastern Hills Easier University as a result of the scandal.
“Celebrity skinned”
The most shocking revelations to emerge from the data breach involve salacious tidbits about Lankville celebrities such as Dick LaHoyt and – gulp – President Pondicherry. The President, already facing a tough re-election campaign battle and long rumored to frequent the seedy underbelly of the Lankville “swingers’ scene,” acted quickly to counter the emerging details through Spokesperson Sue Ely.
“The President’s account was hacked, plain and simple,” claimed Ely in a brief news conference. “He does not, nor has he ever, preferred a ‘Girl Next Door’ type with a ‘fit, lumpen physique’ who can ‘teach me to say yes while barking like a dog on all fours.’ That is simply absurd, as anyone who knows the President personally can tell you.”
Yet President Pondicherry apparently made three separate payments to Lanklove.com, including a sum of $350 for the “Lanklove guarantee” – an assurance that within three months he would be abducted from his home and treated to a “psychosexually fulfilling act” by a surprise partner, or receive a full refund. The Lankville Greater Council called for an investigation to determine if any public funds were used for the payments.
President Pondicherry: Stinger for a Swinger?
Dick La Hoyt, author of a popular series of opinion pieces for this paper, quickly admitted to his affair when confronted with the details and begged forgiveness from his readers and his wife, Tammy, who runs Tammy Nails at the Three Pines Double-Tiered Strip Mall in the Deep Lankville Basin Area. “I’m a strong man,” he said in a prepared statement. “I get punched in the mouth a lot, and I pop right back up and get punched in the mouth again. But like many others, I have weaknesses, too. Some punches hit a little deeper, where it really hurts. When it hurts my family…” La Hoyt then began punching himself in the face and was led away from the podium by his wife, Tammy.
“Say it ain’t so”
Perhaps the most controversial item to emerge from the Lanklove data breach involves Ashley Pfeiffers’ New Boyfriend and Lankville Daily News Female Reporter Sarah Samways (also the co-proprietor of S&F Inc., a consulting firm she shares with Dr. Devon Fick). Reached at her island retreat, Samways at first denied the tryst, then broke down and confessed her love for Ashley Pfeiffers’ beau.
The Boyfriend claimed, however, that he only signed up for Lanklove during a drunken “bull session” with his buddies while he and Ms. Pfeiffers were “on a break” last spring, and never followed through on any dates. “I might’ve loggd [sic] on once lol” he texted from Pizza A’Round. Ms. Pfeiffers admitted to feeling “DEVASTATED” and “SO SAD” at the news of her Boyfriend’s indiscretion, but later sent a message to this reporter confirming “WE ARE IN LOVE…” and refused to answer any more questions.
As all of Lankville awaits further revelations from the LLF hack, rumors continue to swirl that CEO Knute Beiderbecke will soon resign. Stay tuned.
OPINION: I’ve Been Punched in the Mouth Picking Out a Mattress Before, I’ll Be Punched in the Mouth Picking Out a Mattress Again
By Dick La Hoyt
MEANINGFUL OPINIONS
I was just settling in on the couch for a long afternoon of Lingus Nets contests when Tam walks into the room.
And she goes, “Dick, we need a new mattress, baby. My back is killing me from that god damn old shit cushion.”
What could I say? I mean, that’s why I love her.
“Alright baby. Let’s go down to the Mattress Sovereign on Route 21. They got anything you could ask for– coil, spring, waterbeds if you want to go that direction (I was hoping that Tam would), all that orthopedic shit. Let me just polish off this bowl of cheese balls.”
Sure as shit, I polished them off. Then we went out.
I got us down to the Sovereign in about 10 minutes. You avoid Route 21, go the back roads and you’re there. I got the lights timed and everything. Nobody’s gonna’ hold Dick La Hoyt up.
So, we walk in and there’s Buddy Tapes– Buddy and I go way back. He used to run his own mattress place but he blew it trying to sell them futons. I told him so and he punched me in the mouth. Won’t be the last time though– put your spending money on that.
Anyway, Buddy shows us around and I’m trying to horn Tammy over towards the waterbeds but she ain’t having nothing of that shit. “Dickie, c’mon, waterbeds are a god damn hassle,” she’s saying but I flopped on a couple anyway just for effect. It was like lying on a cloud, man, I’m not going to lie. Like lying on one of heaven’s clouds.
Well, the next thing I notice, there’s Buddy Tapes chatting up Tam pretty good. He’s all like, “You need something that’ll support your shoulders and your neck” and he starts trying to shove this little pillow all up in there. And I’m like, “WHOA, BUDDY. YOU BETTER STEP OFF, MAN. THIS GIRL IS SPOKEN FOR.” and Tammy’s like, “Dick, he’s just showing me something, goddammit” and Buddy’s all like, “Yeah, Dick, go back on the waterbeds if you’re gonna’ be a tool, man.” and I’m like I’LL SHOW YOU WHO’S A TOOL, MOTHERFUCKER, LET’S TAKE THIS SHIT OUTSIDE” and Buddy’s all like GLADLY and the manager is coming over and he’s like, “BUDDY, YOU BETTER NOT” and the next thing you know we’re out in the parking lot and BAM, I take one right in the mouth.
When I come to I’m on the waterbeds and I gotta’ tooth loose. Tammy’s sitting there– she’s kind of wobbling, on account of the unsteadiness of the waterbed and all. And I’m like WHERE IS THAT HORSE’S ASS? and Tammy’s all like GOD DAMN YOU, DICK LA HOYT and honestly all I’m thinking about is how comfortable this waterbed is, thinking, how can I get this into our bedroom without Tammy knowing and then I nix that idea. Dick La Hoyt knows enough not to shit where he eats, know what I’m saying?
But I do want that son of a whore Buddy Tapes to know this– I’ve been punched in the mouth picking out a mattress before and I’ll sure as Christ be punched in the mouth picking out a mattress again.
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The Pizza Inn: Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Yes, it was that time of year again for the annual ‘Schropp Family Vacation’. A big bonding experience not only for my immediate loved ones but for all my uncles, aunts and cousins to come together and enjoy the last heated rays of Lankville summertime before the cold, unforgiving northern suburban fall sets in. Beautiful lush beach houses are rented on the northern outskirts shoreline for a whole exciting week of merriment, games and cook outs. I am, of course, dropped off for my own ‘personal fun time vacation’ so my family can really enjoy themselves and not have to worry about me ruining their “one shot of real happiness” for the summer. My usual place of choice is ‘The Pizza Inn’ which is conveniently located on Highway 62 right on the way to the shoreline. I was especially happy since word had gotten to them that the play I am associated with– ‘Ektar- Pizza Warrior’ is the highest grossing pizza-related stage play ever produced in Lankville.
The lovely “Pizza Inn” off Highway 62.
Even though credit needs to be given to Lizzie Starlight and Scott (my manager at ‘The Pizza-A-Round’) for coming up with the final product, I feel like my original script ‘Eggs And Bacon On The Prairie’ was the catalyst to make it all happen. The play has generated enough money in one week that there is already talk of building another Pondicherry Performance Center right on top of the existing one. Liz and Scott are now writing two follow-up plays ‘Ektar And The Cry For Pepperoni’ and ‘Ektar -The Eternal Pizza Champion’ which will undoubtedly be great successes.
I knew that only good things would await me at the inn. It seemed like anything dealing with pizza was the current hot trend!! My family was equally excited to start their own vacation- so much in fact that my folks didn’t even fully stop the minivan while pulling in the parking lot to drop me off. I stumbled out while the vehicle was in a slow roll with my luggage being thrown behind me. The screech of the wheels followed by a quick acceleration meant I was on my own.
Richmond St. Dunesberry
Picking up my stuff, I stopped to take in how beautiful the scene was before me. An almost clear blue sky in the backdrop with the wonderful Inn before me and that whimsical, delightful sign in front which I get all loud and giddy about in the car when I see it. Once inside, I was greeted by none other than the owner of ‘The Pizza Inn’ himself, Richmond St. Dunesberry. He was. of course, in his classic ‘tighty whities’ since he doesn’t wear any clothes. This might throw customers off at first but once you get to know the man you find out he really is quite charming and his near-nudity is just a little ‘personality quirk’. In fact, there have been many times I’ve stayed there, me in my boxer shorts and St. Dunesberry in his whites, talking about the pizza trade and all it’s delights. I have never felt uncomfortable!! He was having some of his famous ‘double pepperoni’ flavored tea which he brews himself and is quite popular.
He was very pleasant in greeting me but I could tell something wasn’t quite right. The cup of tea was shaking slightly in his hand.
“Is something wrong Richmond?” I asked. “There isn’t anything wrong with the ‘Black Olive’ room?” That was my favorite room to stay in and I book it often.
“No-no,” he replied, smiling nervously and then looking around furtively to see if anybody was listening. “Why don’t we go into my office.”
He closed the office door behind me and then went about preparing a cup of ‘double pepperoni’ tea for me– always the gentlemen (and the cup was first rate!!). I waited sipping the fine brew while he took his time to collect himself. “Don’t know where to begin, things have changed so much in the past few days–the past few hours even—.”
“Is it financial trouble? You know the Pondicherry Performance Center was having trouble before Ektar–”
“That damn play!!!” Richmond threw his cup across the room, shattering it completely. The tea ran slowly down the wall.
“The play is really on fire right now, wouldn’t that bring more attention to this place? Pizza is the hottest thing in the media right now–.”
Richmond looked at the floor. “How do I start?” he muttered, holding his forehead. He took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “Bri, we’ve talked many times about the pizza trade, a great deal in fact. But there is a whole other side which is rarely known or even talked about. The metaphysical side, the occult side—-.”
There was a loud crash from somewhere in the reception area, followed by a few screams and the pounding of footsteps.
“Oh dear- oh dear.” Dunesberry got up shaking like a leaf. “Stay in here. DO NOT open this door until I come back.”
He quickly exited. What was up? An upset customer perhaps? But no, who could be upset with the Pizza Inn? I thought quickly. I saw on my way in that the lunch buffet had gone up a dollar since I was last here, maybe that was it? I poured myself some more tea and helped myself to a can of ‘Western Lankville Canned Sausages’ already opened on his desk and then settled back in my chair. I heard some yelling, a few more screams (one may have been Dunesberry) and more heavy footsteps. After a few minutes the ruckus seemed to stop from the area around the office but I could hear the same commotion faintly in other parts of the Inn.
“The Black Olive Room”- my favorite!
When was he coming back? How upset could a customer be? Even the lights flicked off and on a few moments! After what seemed like an eternity (and after polishing off the can of sausages) I decided to see what was up.
The reception desk was eerily quiet. “Hello-hello?” I walked slowly around the desk and my eyes widened; Richmond’s underwear was laying on the floor drenched in blood. My mind filled with panic and horror for a brief moment until I found a pen to pick up the whities. Was this real blood? Come on now-it couldn’t be! What was really going on hit me all at once. A smile came across my face, this was a murder mystery sorta thing that the Inn was putting on for the weekend!
I walked towards the dining area proudly holding ‘the bloody undies’ with the pen. The lunch buffet was deserted like the front expect it was a lot more messy. Tables littered with food. sauces all over the floors and walls, these folks were going full out!!
They gave me with a slight scare when a guy ran in from the kitchens, his shirt slightly torn and with a wild look in his eye. I held up the underwear with the pen. “Hey, are we supposed to guess who ‘killed’ Richmond? Will there be a couple of people to choose from?”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!! WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, THEY’RE COMING BACK THIS WAY!!”
I chuckled. “So there is more than one killer?”
“MY FAMILY WAS JUST HERE TO ENJOY THE BUFFET-IT HAPPENED SO SUDDENLY-THEY CAME RUNNING IN AND ATTACKED EVERYONE-THEY WERE IN ROBES-THEY TOOK MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER-SO SWEET GOD-OH SWEET GOD-.”
The kitchen doors flew open again and out spilled more terrified people in various states of undress. Right on their heels ‘the others’ came in, people dressed in robes with hoods covering their faces. The robes were white with little pizza slices printed all over them!! So, this wasn’t a murder mystery game after all, it was one of those survival-style games you pay for- what a great idea!! I watched as the people in robes quickly snatched the screaming ‘victims’, they sure weren’t making it easy!
I had a serious question to ask the panic-stricken guy who was desperately clinging to my arm. “Now, I had no idea this was going on when I booked my room, will I be charged for this?”
“Help meeeeeeee-.”
They dragged him away before he could answer my question. I tried asking one of the hooded ones running by if I was going to be charged extra for this. He turned to face me, I was quite impressed with the contacts they were using to make their eyes glow. He grabbed my wrist but soon enough another one was there shaking his head. “Not him,” he said in some unearthly voice, how did they do that?
To tell you the truth. I really didn’t sign up for this stuff. Since I was on vacation I was ready to settle down for a nice afternoon nap. I scooped up some ravioli which was still in a pan (not on the floor) and headed to lay down in my ‘Black Olive’ room. To keep in the spirit of the game, I lightly jogged with my things and gave a happy little frightful yell whenever I passed someone in the hallway running away from their robed predators. I have to give kudos to these people for really getting into it.
Once ‘safely’ in the room I turned on the TV (with the charming fuzzy reception) settled on my bed and placing the pan of ravioli on my stomach. I drifted off to the occasional thump and scream happening somewhere around me.
I must have been working harder the days before my vacation than I realized. I slept straight through until next morning. As I was showering and getting ready for the day I hoped the whole survival game was over, at least for now. I was really looking forward to the intercontinental pizza breakfast and wanted to enjoy it in peace. It was to my amazement that I found the whole entire ‘Pizza Inn’ empty, not a soul in sight. Not only that but upon closer inspection, I found everything cleaned and in order like no one had been here for months. What was I supposed to do? It had been a good sixteen hours since I had eaten last. I never knew hunger pains could feel so deep!! Whatever this game was, St. Dunesberry took everybody to play the next stage somewhere else. I could not wait around for anyone to get back so I had to go into the massive empty kitchen area and try to make something on my own.
Not the greatest pie ever made.
I turned on the giant ovens to warm up while I looked around for ingredients. I was feeling quite faint and had serious rumbles stopping me in my tracks a few times. As you may know from some of my past articles, I’m not really in charge of making pizzas at my job– it’s only a skill I’m just starting to learn. I tried to channel everything I knew from watching the greats, like Chet Cameron, to make a pizza pie.
By this stage I was becoming quite delirious and just ran on instinct more than anything. Before I knew it, I was at a table in this huge empty room looking down at what I had created. Probably not the best pie ever made but it would certainly do for now.
It was a VERY weird feeling sitting there eating alone, hearing my smacking echo against the walls. After filling up, I took another look around to see if I could find anyone. Without success I headed back to the kitchens to prepare a big jug of strawberry milk to take with me. I found St. Dunesberry’s keys in his office, locked up the ‘Pizza Inn’ and started the long walk towards the northern shoreline. Of course, by the time I found my family and relatives the fun of the summer had to stop. No one believed my story and when my dad, myself, and local shoreline authorities went back, the place was open again!! There was a brand new manager in there who said that Richmond sold the business to him months ago and had no recall of me being there the day before!!
Well, gentle readers I am still trying to work this mess out. I’m about sixty percent sure I didn’t make this up (no Mom I did not have too much strawberry milk). Once I have some real answers for you guys I will let you know. Until next time please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas, Happy Eating!!-Bri
Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.
Dick Oakes, Jr.
It was a garage made of unpainted concrete blocks. The foreman stood there with a clipboard. He was a little, good-looking man– probably chased a lot of tail. Probably caught a lot of it.
He pointed to the dishwasher. “Show me how to hook that up,” he said.
I walked around to the back of the machine. Drain lines and wires hung carelessly out the back. I had never owned a dishwasher, certainly never looked at the back of one.
“You hook up the lines there and then you hook up the wires,” I said feebly.
He thought about that and made a mark on the clipboard.
“Very good, Mr. Oates,” he said. “That was the correct answer!”
I couldn’t figure on any of it.
They gave me a tan jumpsuit and put me on a truck that day. There was a patch on the breast. It said “MR. OATS”. I didn’t correct it none.
Barn was the driver. He was trying to eat an ear of corn, trying to steer and shift at the same time. It was all hell ridiculous.
We stopped at an intersection in a suburban neighborhood. “Here’s where you get out,” Barn said. He spit some corn out the window. “You got these addresses.” He handed me a typed sheet of paper. “I’ll meet you over at Pondicherry Park on about five. There’s an area of the park where the land starts to shift gently upwards and then drops off into a series of hills and dells. I’ll be on in there somewheres.”
I didn’t say anything. Who knew what the hell to say? There was no merit to any of it.
I rang the bell of the first place. Little brick rancher, well-tended. There was a sprinkler on the lawn flying around erratically. Water was spraying all over the place. Some pinwheels in the garden spun in the wind.
It was a brunette that answered. She was wearing a little sleeveless number. There was a pin over her ample breast. It was a bear playing with some balloons.
“Do you like my pin?” she asked. She was a little coquette– there was no damned doubt on that one.
“I don’t understand it,” I said.
“Oh.” There was a pause. “Well, the dishwashing machine is in the kitchen.” She seemed disappointed.
“It won’t rinse,” she said. “It idles for a long time as though it’s waiting for…something to happen. You know what that’s like, when you’re…just waiting? Waiting all the time?”
I took her right there. Right on the dishwasher. Later, it was the staircase and then back down to the dishwasher and then upstairs in bed.
We were lying there. “You’re not like my husband,” she said. “He has an advanced degree in economics.”
“Yeah? Fuck that shit,” I said. I was getting a little cocky, I admit to it.
“You’re so…coarse,” she said. She leaned towards me and I got another good look at the cans. They were round and full. It was something.
“I guess the only economics we’re gonna’ need to worry about is how much it’s gonna’ cost to dry clean that blouse of yours.”
“I guess,” she said. “Though that isn’t the cleverest comeback I’ve ever heard.”
“Skip it.”
It was getting on towards five. Ol’ Barn would be standing around in those hills and dells, wondering where the hell Oats was. I didn’t even know where the park was– couldn’t even have guessed on the name of the town.
“Did you still want me to fix the dishwasher?” I asked. I started putting the jumpsuit back on. She tore the comforter off the bed and shoved it into a hamper. We had really worked the damn thing over.
“Can you come back?” she asked. She pulled her panties slowly up her legs. It was excruciating.
“I don’t know.” I thought about going back to the concrete garage. Thought about all the angry calls that had probably come in. I pictured the little foreman wandering around in a sedan, looking for Oats.
“I may have to keep going,” I said finally.
“Well, then…” she said. She was getting bent out of shape about it. “You can go out the back door. The kitchen door. Servicemen go out the kitchen door.” She stormed out. I didn’t see her again.
I walked across the yard and through some hedges and into another backyard. A guy was back there cooking a big ham over a grill. There were pinwheels all over his garden too. Who knew what to make of it?
“Hey! This is a private yard!” he whined.
“Work on your big ham, Joe, I’m leaving.”
He had some beers on a picnic table. I nicked one on the way out.
Then, I kept walking.
CREAM- The New Miracle Cure for Impotence!
By Dr. Yothers
At least 98% of Lankville males and at least 97% percent of Lankville females suffer from impotence or frigidity during what should be the best years of their lives. Today, doctors know that in about 9.5 out of 10 cases, the trouble is not due to illness, aging, or droop but rather to psychological barriers. And CREAM is proving amazingly effective in clearing out these roadblocks on the delightful highway to love!
Young Mr. X (fake name) was a total loss as far as the ladies were concerned. He was what you might call a Sad Sack of the Sack (I often called him that) or a “Floppy Fred” or a “Limp Larry”. The funny names are inexhaustible, the point is that Young Mr. X was constantly flaccid.
Mr. X was in love with his high school sweetheart and, indeed, he would have married her but for one impediment. Embarrassed by his tuneless flesh flute, and fearing the worst on his wedding night, he abandoned all thoughts of nuptials, gave up on his belle, and ended up perishing in a tragic challenge explosion outside a distant forlorn strip mall.
If only Mr. X had known about CREAM. Instead of dying (he was also apparently shot at while exploding), Mr. X would now be churning the marriage bed in what can only be described as a jubilant carnival of zesty lust.
IMPOTENCE CREAM: THE BACKSTORY
The miracle of CREAM didn’t just “happen”– miracles never do. They are made.
I specialize in the repair of sexual insufficiencies. My tool is a secret CREAM, a wonder cream that came to me in a strange, hypnotic waking dream. Here’s how it happened.
I was having dinner, alone, at the Giant Tart Cafeteria. I had ordered an open-face turkey sandwich and when my plate arrived, I noticed that the sandwich was sans gravy. Needless to say, I was flummoxed. Of course, an open-face turkey sandwich is not complete without gravy. Everyone knows that– just what sort of shenanigans were these folks trying to pull?
My CREAM. Comes in tubes or mason jars with little gingham fabric tops.
It took forever to get the attention of the waiter. I began to grow angry, then outraged. Then, my outrage turned into a ferociousness and savagery that could not be contained. I cannot go back there, to that night, to the Giant Tart cafeteria (I have worked through that) but needless to say, it was a horrific and monstrous night.
But out of the horror came CREAM. In my cell that night, I drew up the recipe. I obtained various chemicals (calciums, mineral oil bases, alpha hydroxies, rare muds from the Peninsulas, pony parts and mixed them into the miracle concoction that you see before you today (see photo).
I found an impotent man- let’s call him Mr. Y (fake name). He was wandering about aimlessly in the Barren Lankville Wastelands, bereft and enfeebled. I subjected him to a heavy, regular slathering of the CREAM. Days passed in silence. Mr. Y would wake up from his cot, I would tackle him and bombard him with CREAM. When will it end? When will it happen? he would cry. “IT WILL, SHUT UP,” I would scream. And we would go back and forth, flailing about the room as I battered him with huge handfuls of the CREAM. IT WILL WORK, GOD DAMN YOU I would yell. It was a crazy time.
And then, one morning, Mr. Y was no longer impotent. It was immediately apparent through the thin, dimestore bedsheets. We celebrated with a breakfast of flattened, thin, wheat cakes and bowls of junket. I AM READY, DR. YOTHERS he said, his boyish grin returning. I AM READY TO TAKE A PLEASURABLE RIDE ON THE MAGIC CARPET OF INTERCOURSE. I laughed– tears running down my face. I KNOW YOU ARE, MY BOY. I KNOW YOU ARE.
Mr. Y is now happily married with 10 children.
My CREAM– a Lankville miracle.
The opinions of Dr. Yothers are absolutely not the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
Notes from the Stage Floor Part II
By Brian Schropp
BRIAN SCHROPP ON CUISINE
The opening weekend for my reworked stage play ‘Eggs And Bacon On The Prairie’ went fairly well with most of the showtimes selling at least three or four of the really good fluffy seats. Unfortunately, the Chairman of the Pondicherry Performance Center didn’t think it would be enough to help save ‘this goddamn wreck of a sinking ship’. In my heart I wanted to try and do my best to save the flailing center; the vending machines were quite special here and I doubt I would find their quality anywhere else.
“The script needs to be worked on even more,” he suggested. “You can’t have that same debacle next weekend or else you’re really up shit creek. The positive feedback we’re getting from the folks who happen to wander in here and we somehow convince to buy a ticket comes down to two main points- the breakfast sandwiches and the spanking. You need to keep those in and keep them strong. I want the audience’s mouths to be watering with the thought of breakfast sandwiches and the feeling in their own butts sore. Also, for me personally, could you keep in those darn rascally dream creatures? They are so delightful!!” He said the last part in a high pitch creepy sort of way which made me uncomfortable down to my soul.
Lizzie Starlight
So it turned into another long night for myself and my co-creator Lizzie Starlight trying to make a new story work. We both knew we had the fundamentals of a tale that needed to be told– the trick was finding how to make the audience not only ‘get it’ but also to ‘FEEL IT.’ By the early hours of the morning in the haze of cigarette smoke from Lizzie and the piled up pork rind bags from me, we had the new play down. The main character of Zachariah was eliminated completely and replaced with a half-man half- buffalo character named ‘Ektar’ (human name) or ‘Running Cheese’ (his buffalo name). His story was one of a outcast from two different worlds (the human and the buffalo) that fought against each other. He wanted to bring peace to these warring factions by way of these marvelous food creations his ‘dream spirits’ would bring him. I was really happy with the dream sequences– they really showed the basics for making a good breakfast sandwich, almost like a cooking show. Two songs in particular- ‘B.E.C.TB Find Out What It Means To Me’ and ‘The Wild Buffalo Wings Song’ were both included and ALL the lyrics were written by me. B.E.C.TB of course stands for the standard bacon, egg, cheese, tender biscuit ratio used when critically looking at any breakfast sandwich. The buffalo wings song is at the beginning of the play and is more of a dark piece which tells of humans killing a buffalo to make the wings. I feel this somber number really helps highlight the war between the two.
The actor playing ‘Ektar’ (Running Cheese)
So, with very little sleep to be had the next day was another long affair, new sets needed to be made and a quick casting call went out to find our new lead. Lizzie put herself in charge of getting the right actor for this critical part by putting all the young aspiring community stage actors through some tough spots. I put myself in charge of finding the vending machine company’s number to try and see if they could put some type of strawberry milk option replacing the diet cola that no one seemed to buy.
It seemed almost in a blink of an eye that the play in its new form was coming together. I give full credit to Lizzie Starlight and her directional talents. By mid- week the actor who was playing ‘Ektar’ was shining and inspiring the other actors either playing human or buffalo to get into their parts. Songs with newly-added dance routines were being learned under new, somewhat crudely built sets. I was sitting back in the second row of fluffy seats sipping on a strawberry milk wondering how anything could go wrong now.
Of course once that thought is put into the universe it has no choice but to come true.
“Bri, Bri? Where the hell are ya’?”
I recognized the voice of Scott, my manger at the Pizza-A-Round, immediately. Feeling like I was somehow slacking off on a shift, I dropped my strawberry milk over my shirt before stumbling down the theater seating trying to get out as quick as possible.
Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.
“Christ Bri, what the fuck? You keeping calling out of work for this shit?” I was doing my best to straddle both my work on the play and my pizza job, trying to keep both sides happy. But I knew with the troubles here that the scales had tipped dramatically to one side. I also knew Scott wouldn’t understand anything about this and could turn the situation into total chaos. I tried my best to gently nudge him outside but he was in full ‘Scott Mode’ He wanted to make the production pay for taking such a valuable employee away. He moved around the set taking swigs from his flask pushing down stagehands and threatening to urinate on a few of the set pieces. At one point he even grabbed ‘Ektar’ and started to make fun of him– reducing the poor young stage actor to tears.
At this point Lizzie Starlight came back in (she was taking a small break to ‘re-fro’ her hair) and that was when the shit really hit the fan. Like two bulls they clashed in the center of the stage with all the actors and stagehands running for cover. Foreheads touching each other, yelling at the top of their lungs– I couldn’t let this go on for much longer, not only did I fear Scott brandishing some sort of firearm, I also knew Lizzie was a tough cookie who might swing a punch.
I somehow got Scott to calm down and with the promise of some pork rinds got him to sit down in a fluffy seat. I asked him to watch a run through of the play, keeping an open mind. If he didn’t like what he saw then he could destroy whatever he wanted to on the stage. This was also a good practice for the cast– putting their necks on the line with their performance. Much to my surprise I found that once settled and with the lights turned down, Scott really got into it!! The buffalo wings song hooked him right away, leading into the violence between the humans and the buffaloes. What astonished me even more were the gushes and chuckles with Ektar’s interactions with the dream creatures. I’m not sure that the entire the play moved him so much (I heard Scott snoring from time to time) but there were no aggressive movements so that was a good sign.
When the play ended and the lights came back on, Scott slowly got up from his seat. A glazed, almost child-like look was in his eyes. He slowly wandered up on stage and gently took the startled Lizzie by the shoulders.
“Your vision, it’s–so–so–wonderful!”
Then to everyone’s delight/horror Scott and Lizzie started to kiss passionately. We thought it would be over in a few minutes but those minutes turned almost into a full hour. Things got even more awkward when they went behind the sets to really get it on. There was no holding back their primal screaming and thrusting which echoed in the theater. A few of the stagehands started vomiting, I went off for more strawberry milk.
The floating baby pizza slice at the end
You would think Scott accepting the play (and Lizzie) would be a good thing, well dear readers it turned out to be the exact opposite. The two became inseparable not only getting it on loudly whenever they could but with Scott ultimately adding his ‘vision’ for the play. The two quickly started to rework the script adding in scenes where ‘Ektar’ goes to a pizza place in the future (our time) and meets a studly manager who bestows his wisdom and knowledge of the pizza trade. A long list of pizza items are added to the final feast which brings the groups together and cuts back heavily on the breakfast sandwiches. Also a lot of the human spanking needed to be cut to save on time. Who wants to see just a spanking or two? And to top it all off there is now this weird trippy ending (with a full laser show) where a baby pizza slice comes floating out and rambles to the paying audience how the universe is just a giant metaphysical pizza or something along those lines.
I try to remain optimistic that the changes in the play are for the good. Maybe folks who have a stronger passion for modern day pizza dream sequences can get something out of it. I have decided to keep my name in it since a few of my ideas are still in there. The renamed play ‘Ektar- Pizza Champion’ will be showing at the Pondicherry Performance Center Thursday and Friday evenings at 7:30, Saturday afternoon at 3PM, and Sunday evening at 5PM. Fluffy and rusted gym seats still the same price as last weekend. Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!-Bri
Notes of an Old Man Who Lives Alone
By Luman Cans Harris
Every Friday evening, I go down to the liquor store and buy a good pack of cigarettes.
I pass Mama, the heavy-set landlady on the staircase. She’s always sitting in her doorway crocheting words onto a blanket.
“Buying another pack of cigarettes, Mr. Cans Harris?”
I used to deny it, now I just nod politely.
“Smoking is terrible for your health,” she says.
“Oh? I hadn’t heard that.”
“You’re being irreverent, Mr. Cans Harris,” she says quietly. “My husband, Papa, was irreverent.”
She never offers up the fate of Papa though the inference is that it was not a good one.
“Just open up a window, Mr. Cans Harris. Otherwise, your fabrics will be abhorrent. Women notice that kind of thing, Mr. Cans Harris.”
Mama desperately wants me to find a good woman. Nothing would delight her more. There is something wrong with an old man who lives alone in Mama’s mind. But women have a way of coming into your apartment and changing things around. They have a way of insisting on going out in the evenings. Sometimes they are feminists and they spout some of that barely-disguised reversed sexism cloaked as dimestore philosophy. Who the hell needs it?
“I’ll see to it that a window is open, Mama.” And then I head down into the street.
The entrance to the building is via an ugly windowless side door painted a strange deep red color. There is a giant block of granite step and the drunkards often hang out here– shielded from the main road. I often bump their backs going out.
I have an ancient black Ursa parked by the curb. They don’t make Ursas anymore. Stopped about 1989, I guess. Neptune really took over the market. I don’t drive the Ursa much– just move it around occasionally so the neighbors don’t think it’s broken down.
I buy the cigarettes and walk slowly back to the apartment in the diminishing sunlight. Young people are flocking to the bars. It’s a loud place– a party atmosphere.
I spot “The Shark”. He’s a local lunatic with blonde hair and a deep red face. It’s that same supernal red as the side door. He stalks up and down a two block section– stopping at the corner and starting again, down by the closed fish market.
“HEY MAN,” he says in his deep, breathy, hysterical voice. “YOU KNOW WHERE THE OUTLANDS ARE, MAN?”
“They’re west,” I say. “Maybe about 200 miles from here.” I am patient with “The Shark”– there is no reason not to be– the man is clearly insane.
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE THE OUTLANDS ARE!” he accuses.
“Ok.” I start to walk on.
“NO WAIT, MAN. THEY GOT A PRISON THERE, DON’T THEY?”
“They do,” I say. “It’s a big prison for the Outlands Area.”
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE IT IS!”
“Ok.” We have arrived at a conversational crossroads.
“SHIT. THEY PROBABLY GOT A BUNCH OF ISLANDERS IN THERE WITH BIG DICKS.”
He likes to go on about big dicks and Islanders. That’s when I generally take my leave.
“Ok. I’ll see you later.”
I head slowly up the staircase. Mama is gone but her door is open. If you were twenty years younger Mama I think to myself. It’s nonsense. Why think such things? Perhaps “The Shark” is rubbing off on me.
I pass the night quietly.
Lankville Daily News Readers Speak Out!
By Bill Hogg, Grocery Store Clerk
There’s nothing I like better than to climb into that big ol’ piece of Lankville iron I got parked out front and drive through the streets without stopping. Once, I was able to make it all the way downtown, blowing every red light, without getting caught. People look at that old car and they say, “Why, Bill, that’s a piece of shit.” And I pull my cap down and say, “Nope. There’s power to spare under that big baby’s hood.” And they walk away then.
The Lankville Daily News is the sort of thing you can read while driving. It’s also good for that time before twilight when you’re having six or seven beers in the weedy area behind the convenience store. I even showed it to the little pervert who comes into the store and kneels behind the watermelons. “Hey man, your nuts are as big as these watermelons,” he would say, senselessly. But after I showed him the Lankville Daily News on a company laptop, he quieted down and I found him a little stool and it calmed him for a good hour or two.
Then, there’s that fat lady who fashioned a hook under her skirt and we caught her taking out a couple of hams. The manager wanted to arrest her but I talked him out of it. “Go set her down in the corner and show her this blog,” I said, pressing the laptop into his hand. I believe it did teach her something.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a thing about smoking cigarettes on a toothpick.
Barlow Foods Pharmacy Earns No. 1 National Ranking
By Floyd Miller
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Barlow Foods Pharmacy has the highest overall customer-satisfaction rating in the country, according to Meulens-LaPoint’s latest study of pharmacies nationwide.
The ubiquitous grocer scored 887 points on a 1,000-point scale that measured prescription ordering, cost competitiveness, bag stapling, and non-pharmacist associate staff, as well as pharmacist and store experience. The list was created using surveys from nearly 111,115,000 customers during May and June.
“This study measures the very things we have focused, even insisted upon for many years,” said founder and CEO John Barlow.
Barlow Foods beat out brick-and-mortar and mail-order pharmacies across all categories, including chain drugstores, big-box pharmacies and pharmacies that have toys. It was also the only company on the supermarket pharmacy list to earn Meulens-LaPoint’s highest ranking: five out of five gold Special Power Stars, designating it “among the best.”
Barlow Foods CEO John Barlow.
“Our pharmacy employees have built relationships with our customers that start with things like caring, devotion and maybe, in some cases, love,” Barlow stated at a news conference held within site of a pharmacy. “But they also understand the value of mutual understanding. The mutual understanding that comes from knowing who the customer is, and who the boss is. Who is in charge. Every Barlow Foods customer should know this– if this mutual understanding is found lacking on the customer side, then the customer does not return. And that is our decision.”
“I’m the one. The one in charge,” Barlow elaborated, after a long silence.
Runners-up in the supermarket category were The Outlands Brothers, with a score of 871; Drug Barrels, with 866; and mall-based chain Monkey Pups, with 861. The average supermarket pharmacy satisfaction score was 851.
Barlow was not planning on a celebration.
“Our goal is to remain open during the good years and through the imminent very, very bad years. How would it look for us to stop now for a sad little cake and a pharmacy hung with sagging crepe streamers?”
A trophy commemorating the achievement will be mailed to Barlow’s offices.
Gump Penetrates
Gump Tibbs
It’s time for another penetrating interview with Gump Tibbs. Today, Gump interviews Dick Oakes, Jr., Lankville Daily News columnist and author of the bestselling short-story collection No Merit in It.
GT: So, you have that little area in the paper where you write about some of your exciting adventures?
DO: Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how exciting they are. My life is a sort of hell, Gump.
GT: Marvelous! And you’ve just released a new manual?
DO: It’s a collection of short stories.
GT: What an amazing endeavor! What is the manual about?
DO: I don’t know, Gump. Fer chrissakes.
GT: Such a delight! Will you be releasing any more manuals?
DO: Yeah, I guess. I got a trunk somewhere with a bunch of stories in it. Might be in a locker down at the bus station. Damned if I know where the key is.
Dick Oakes, Jr.
GT: Sounds like a cat’s pajamas!
DO: The cat’s pajama’s?
GT: Really fabulous! Let’s move on to sports. You like wrestling?
DO: Yeah, I mean, it’s fine. Hell, they get a couple of big corn-fed girls in a small motel room and a lot of things can happen. Who can figure on any of it? Does anybody really give a damn? Tell me, Gump, does anybody give a damn?
GT: A remarkable endeavor! I’m going to fire some guns into some small bushes. Want to come along?
DO: Skip it.
Tibbs bounced away and the interview was ended prematurely.
The Electronics Cranny: Operation Telephone 2025
By Fritz Tennis
The time: a day in 2025. You’re planning on spending the afternoon at a friend or lover’s house. But you’re also expecting an important telephone call. You pick up your phone, dial first a special code prefix, then your friend or lover’s number. This done, you leave the house, knowing that all calls to your number will be automatically forwarded. When you return home that evening after a fine day of comraderie or fornication, you dial another code number and incoming calls are once again routed to your own phone.
Figure One
Impossible, you say! A fantasy, a chimera, an impossible dream! Fuck you, Tennis, you dumb soulless electronics shit! And yet, whatever your opinion may be, this special service and dozens of others just as advanced will soon be available to you. Already, a prototype all-electronic telephone central office is in operation in the Eastern Lankville High Wooded Area. And it’s delighting subscribers with services which make present-day systems seem as obsolete as the rotary dial on a telephone nailed to some filthy alcoholic’s kitchen wall like some sort of perverse communication Christ on the cross.
Special Services. Within a few years – as versatile all-electronic equipment replaces the present imperfect relay-switching systems – your phone will perform such tricks as these:
Special Services Control Center- the world’s first all-electronic telephone central office, now serving customers in the Eastern High Lankville Wooded Area was developed by Danny Madison Industries.
THE MANIFOLD PRESENCE
You’re talking to a friend about a new hot/cold cup you’re planning to buy. But you need more information. So without either of you hanging up, you simply dial your electronics dealer’s number. A few seconds later he is connected into the manifold presence circuit, and all three of you can discuss the hot/cold cup at will. You can even continue calling additional numbers (as many as you like up to seven) and all will be connected so that everybody can talk to everyone else about hot-cold cups.
“We decided on a limitation of seven calls at once,” noted Special Services spearhead Danny Madison of Danny Madison Industries. “Our research indicates that when an eighth voice is added to a conversation of seven, all eight participants immediately turn insane.”
“We’d like to avoid such an occurrence,” Madison added.
THE EXCLUSIVE PREFIX RELAY
There are several numbers you call regularly. A word to Special Services, and each of these “regulars” is assigned a special two-number prefix. Then, instead of having to dial the usual seven-digit number (or ten-digit number for the Outlands and Desert Area) you simply dial “12” when you want your local motel, “13” for the corner drugstore, “14” for the wife of your best friend, etc., etc.
THE INCOMING SWITCHER
You run a small business or a kiosk and don’t want to miss any incoming calls. You make the proper arrangements, and if your office line is busy when someone dials it, your home phone rings automatically. If your home phone is busy too, a third number – perhaps an answering service, perhaps some low-skilled individual you’ve assigned to wait for calls in a building with low overhead (like a shed) will ring, and so on for as many alternate numbers as you wish (up to seven).
Boy genius Danny Madison.
“The Incoming Switcher can also alert your Reckoner which will then display a green digital message on its Electronic Brain Reading Square identifying the caller and, if possible, limited personal information,” noted Madison, who paused to attach some electrodes to a pizza. “The Reckoner can also accept short messages utilizing the mini tape disks which insert into the back but which, of course, must be purchased separately. You can then play back the message by utilizing the Danny Madison portable Reckoner Speakers which plug into the side of your Reckoner and which can also be purchased separately.”
These are only a few of the scores of special services you’ll enjoy when electronics takes over completely. Hordes of electrons rushing through transistors, diodes, tubes and funnels will do the job, and they’ll do it within millionths of a second. Thus, the all-electronic system will be able to perform at least a hundred different operations, carrying out extremely complex switching operations impossible with present-day equipment.
Notes From The Stage Floor
By Brian Schropp
BRIAN SCHROPP ON CUISINE
I have been keeping this under wraps for most of the summer but now with the wheels firmly in motion I can share some exciting news.
I had been approached earlier this year to write a screenplay for the Lankville Community Players for their Fall season. I was told they needed a blockbuster, something to ‘finally put butts in the seats’ of the expensive Pondicherry Performance Center that was built a few years ago. Other productions written by fellow reporters did not sell many tickets. Dick Oates, Jr’s ‘Funny Stories’, Brock Belvedere Jr’s ‘Onion Soup For Breakfast’, and Fingers Rolly’s ‘Screaming In the Desert’ while to me were solidly-written stage pieces somehow didn’t capture the audience’s imagination. I thought long and hard in my basement apartment about what theater goers would want. A time period piece in the backdrop of the rough, struggling ‘prairie years’ would offer plenty of human drama to embrace. And out of these struggles, a ray of some hope, the promise of breakfast sandwiches to come perhaps, would be a sure fire hit. Also there needed to be spanking, lots of on-stage spanking, folks really get into that. So working with the center’s stage director, ‘Eggs And Bacon On The Prairie’ was born. I was particularly proud of the character of ‘Zachariah’, a young man with special visions (bumpkin maybe?) who sees the breakfast sandwiches in his dreams and will one day make them a reality to save the others.
The original cast, Zachariah is on the far right
With the writing of the screenplay being the easy part, the grueling task of auditions were up next. The two-day process was filled with lots of singing, dancing, laughter, tears and one unfortunate challenge. The stage director was ultimately pleased with the casting, I was just concerned about the proper actor to play the Zachariah role. Honestly, I found it hard to focus on all the little details of the production especially with the selections of catered food and vending machines in the performance center. But I knew the play was in good hands with this director- we shared the same vision and he promised me none of the spanking scenes would be cut.
Of course, nothing ever goes to plan. With production in full swing, the sets being built and the actors learning their lines, the stage director mysteriously left and never came back. The Chairmen of the Performance Center needed me to fill in until another director could be found. Well, we all knew this was going to be a disaster but no one could even begin to fathom how badly it would turn out. Everything spiraled out of control quickly, the actors (even though they were just community players) tried to change their lines and wanted the spanking scenes eliminated. The dude playing ‘Zachariah’ said he couldn’t find the character’s ‘voice’ and could not understand how the breakfast sandwich visions were such an integral part of the show. Within only a few hours to go until opening night, the entire original cast walked off. After calming my nerves at the vending machine (they had some excellent barbecue pork rinds) I had no choice but to have the stagehands take over the roles. These guys were VERY uncomfortable not only with acting in general but also with dressing as women and spanking each other. Yet, they agreed to take on the roles and I had to admire their dedication to making this screenplay work. The down side was that the set creation had to take a back seat plus with their lack of stage skill I had to cut back on a lot of the dialogue and improvise a few more spanking scenes.
One of the many spanking scenes.
The next day, the Chairman approached me by the vending machines. He was not happy with what he saw.
“The story didn’t make a lot of sense to begin with but I have no idea what’s going on now. Seems to me a lot of men in drag paddling each other with some other guy running around holding his head yelling about breakfast sandwiches. Now, I have nothing against new wave theater but this just doesn’t have a place in our performance center.”
He was back a little while later with some crazed-looking woman sporting a big afro which I was pretty sure was a wig. “Bri, this is Lizzie Starlight. She is a very renowned stage director (I had never heard of her) with years of successful shows (I had never heard of them) and I think she is the best person to take this shambles over. We have a very short period of time to get this back on track and make it a hit. Please sit down with her and see what can be salvaged.”
Things did not start out very well- she just didn’t see eye to eye with my vision. I tried to tell her that even though most things had gone downhill the original story was still solid. Flipping through the screenplay Lizzie shook her head. She said the play needed a major overhaul for it to work. She still thought it should take place on the prairie but advised that the play should focus on the character of Zachariah. “It should be of Zachariah coming home after a day of hard work in the fields and going to sleep. They play should center around his dream, it will be a MARVELOUS dream!! He will meet and encounter colorful and delightful characters that can only come from a vivid imagination. All these creatures will help to form his understanding and love of breakfast sandwiches. He could also travel into the future and bring back the sandwiches from some wondrous space city.”
Lizzie Starlight did not share my vision.
Even though I did like the breakfast sandwich aspect remaining in the play, I had a hard time understanding how the dream would work. The dream seemed somewhat goofy not like the powerful visions I had originally written. I made two points– one, the Chairman not liking ‘new wave’ theater and two, the disastrous ‘onion dancing dream’ scene in Brock’s play. She was very stubborn like me in the creative process and did not acknowlede my concerns. I huffed off for some more pork rinds (major kudos to the person for keeping the the Performance Center’s vending machines fully-stocked).
The next day Lizzie was there early and had the sets changed with the dream creatures brought in. I had to salvage some aspect of my original work so I talked to her about some of the spanking scenes. We agreed to include a part where Zachariah would enter a ‘terrifying nightmare’ in which he would encounter a mass spanking going on in a field. Lizzie thought the scene would show ‘the limitations of simple joy and wonder in adult people’– I just thought people would like it.
The dream creatures Zachariah will encounter.
After coming back from getting my ‘daily rinds’, I sat back and watched the production start to take shape. I had to admit she did have a strong presence about her and took firm control of the production. I even found myself chuckling at a few scenes where Zachariah meets a few of the dream creatures. I felt comfortable chiming in on some technical aspects of breakfast sandwiches that they were getting wrong. Even though this was a long way from my original intent, I feel like part of my voice is still in the play and I back this show 100%. So if you are looking for some upcoming weekend good times stop by the Pondicherry Performance Center and catch the show! Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday afternoon. ‘Good fluffy’ seats up front-$22.50 (comes with a free foot message coupon for ‘Al’s Foot Rubbin’ Palace’) or $4.50 for the rickety rusted gym seat (no coupon). I will keep you updated dear readers on how the first weekend goes! Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!-Bri
Are Garden Hoses Safe? A Zach Keebaugh Investigation
Zach Keebaugh
Scenario: you’re out watering your backyard garden. The sun starts to beat down. That ribbed, poly/cotton blend tank is starting to feel like an oven, you’re thirsty, irritable, maybe even angry. And right in front of you, man– cool water flowing out of your hose like some sort of heavenly mountain stream. It’s right there for the taking. Why not stoop down and make it yours? Pump that shit into your mouth and quench that insatiable thirst? Yo, why the hell shouldn’t you, man?
Because many experts are now saying that it is unsafe to drink from a garden hose, that’s why. They say that hoses can be made of dangerous chemicals like lead and some weird-ass chlorides that can fuck you up eight ways to Sunday. You could end up sterile, impotent, unable to talk much or even dead.
But is it true? I aimed to find out. I am Zach Keebaugh: Investigative Reporter.
First, I spoke to Lankville Tubing Safety Department official Les Tights.
“Yo, man. I drink from hoses all the time. What’s up?”
Looks nice but what the hell? Is it safe?
“Well, Zach, lead from the hoses can often leach into the water supply, causing all sorts of problems with birth defects, dying, sterility, impotence and general sexual disinterest. And while notice of this is now required on all packaging for commercial hoses, we all know that generally people tear off the packaging quickly, as they, of course, are quite excited about owning a new hose. Our research indicates that most packaging doesn’t even make it home. Most people tear it straight off in their cars, sometimes even immediately after purchasing while they’re still in line at the hardware store. So, basically, the warnings don’t get read.”
“Sure, sure. But let’s get back to the meat here, man. You telling me that a guy drinks from a hose and then, BAM, the next morning he ain’t pitching tent?”
Tights grew confused. I grew skeptical.
So, I visited a couple of hose salesmen. First off, the traditional ol’ green standby at my local Home Dump. Just as Tights mentioned, I saw the tiny warning label on the packaging. I questioned an employee who asked to remain anonymous (we’ll call her Gail Throneberry). Turns out Gail and I hit it off pretty good. She invited me out back of the Home Dump to watch her drink some beers.
“Hey Gail- man, what about these hoses?” I probed.
“Oh, right. Listen baby, these expand, like out to certain distances. I forget. Shit.” She took another pull on the beer. I had a soda that Gail pinched for me from the employee freezer.
“Are they safe?”
“What? Sure, sure. These…we got medium duty and heavy duty, you know, according to expected use. What do you expect to use these for, Zach, baby? You got yourself some seeds baby? Want Mama to water ’em for you?”
Traditional hose salesman Gail Throneberry.
Throneberry collapsed into some empty cardboard boxes. But I had my answer.
Next, I consulted with organic hose dealer Ray Sunshine, who operated a garden supply center near Pineapple City. He showed me all the different lead-free hose options.
“All of our hoses meet LSF standards, are lead-free, recycled and resist kinking. These are the best hoses you can buy in Lankville, Zach.”
“But are they safe?” I probed.
“Absolutely. We stand behind them.”
“Let me give you a scenario, Ray. I’m watering a bunch of bullshit in the backyard. I start to get hot and sweaty. I take my shirt off but I’m still hot. I’m getting sunburned. I feel like hell. I’m hungry. I’m depressed. Maybe a little bit horny. Feel like a drink of water might help. I’m looking at the water coming out of one of your organic hoses. So, yo, man! Can I drink that water?”
“Absolutely. You can feel 100% safe in drinking water from our hoses.”
I was convinced. Even picked up two hoses despite the fact that I got no backyard and live in a shitbox of an apartment above the knives and puzzles shop.
So, here’s your conclusion readers. Pick up a hose with LDA-approved materials and that are clearly labeled “drink safe”. Make sure you read the label before you buy (I know, I know, everyone gets excited as all shit over a new hose but be patient). Taking that little extra time could ultimately safe your life.
Or, here’s another option. Drink from the god damn sink, yo. Don’t be a baboon.
This has been a Zach Keebaugh Investigative Report
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