Archive
Televisions Free to a Good Home
By Brock Belvedere, Jr.
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
“Ideally, I don’t want to split them up…”
Katie Lynn Rumpus – distant relation to Genevieve Rumpus, but no relation to the Ida Rumpus who reports for this paper – recently, and reluctantly, put two of her “babies” up for adoption. She is hoping to place the classic Lanvillectric Television sets in a good home, and is calling on all citizens of Lankville to help her find one for them.
“Ideally, I don’t want to split them up,” she said from her home in Lower Lankville Heights. The television sets had been placed with care in a breezeway near Rumpus’s office at Barlow Foods’ northern distribution center, where Rumpus oversees the apportioning of bulk comestibles to a dozen Barlow Foods locations.
Alternate view of the sets.
The sets had long graced either end of a multimedia cabinet in the Rumpus living room, or “Rumpus Room,” as the family call it. There, the Rumpuses had enjoyed hours and hours of their favorite programs, sometimes tuning shows in simultaneously so that they could experience them in “stereo,” other times watching one or the other television, or different programs on each one, depending on preference and time of day.
“There were so many possibilities,” Mrs. Rumpus averred, especially when her husband, Ralph Waldo Rumpus, came home with a Pondisonic Video Camera one day and attached it to one of the sets via cable. The Rumpus Room quickly became an amateur studio, as the children interviewed one another and staged elaborate sketches, often inspired by Vitiello Decorative Ham advertisements.
The children loved dressing up as their favorite hams, said Mrs. Rumpus, and squealed with delight as they saw their likeness appearing on screen.
Mrs. Rumpus’ homemade sign.
Lanvillectricians might blush, meanwhile, at a glimpse of the images that flickered on the twin sets after dark, when Mr. and Mrs. Rumpus shared footage of their “home movies” with neighbors and friends.
Things got a bit “racy” during those days, Mrs. Rumpus admitted, and the “twins” – her affectionate name for the Lankvillectric TVs – were constantly in demand among family and friends alike. Now, though the times have changed and a large flat-screen model adorns the Rumpus Room, Katie Lynn Rumpus is taking care to make sure the well-used sets find a home worthy of their place in her heart.
Please write to Mrs. Rumpus care of the Lankville Daily News if you feel you can provide a good home for her television sets.
Pondicherry Yoga: Is it Safe?
Mrs. Larry Temple
A PROBE
Pondicherry Yoga. It’s the latest fitness-spirituality craze for busy Lankvillians who don’t have time for separate fitness and spirituality crazes. But, what is it? And, more importantly, is it safe?
The popular yoga, which takes place in a rickety room of wildly fluctuating temperatures, has led some to question its healthfulness –in part because it teaches that a session isn’t over until the practitioner injures himself.
“It’s true,” claims middle-aged, middle class “Yogi” Gideon, “they don’t let you out until you hurt yourself. And no good faking –they know,” he paused before continuing proudly, “I’ve snapped every tendon in my body.”
Who exactly “they” may be is another subject up for debate. Pondicherry Yoga instructors are notoriously difficult to see for any length of time in suitable light. They spend a minimum amount of time in the practice room, perhaps, some suppose, because they can’t endure the temperatures, which swing between 150 and -50 degrees.
“Theys crank up the heat,” complains former Pondicherry yogi Sam Crumb, “so yous burn and you burn and you can twist into some kind of prtezel-like –and then vrwroop! they’s turn it freezing so yous just stick there. The sweat on all your body turns to little icee flakes. And you hair, it cracks off in pieces-like, and you eyes – they stick open, or closed, with the ice lids. And you body you think you stuck forever, and yous start crying-like, yous blubbering and you know is dying, and you dying, and sometimes yous die, and most the time you do dies.”
The rickety room (scale model).
But is it safe? I asked Sam Crumb. “And they’s make you eat. The heat so yous think you gonna die, and they make yous eat the whole pie,” he claimed gasping and whimpering, “I ate the whole pie. I had to. But it too hot to eat the pie, but you eat. Big key lime pie. And they make you drink the whole two-liter. The cherry cola. The no-brand cherry cola. With the pie. And then the inverted series.”
But the question remains: is it safe? I asked Sam Crumb about another of Pondicherry Yoga’s more controversial aspects: the much-ballyhooed “rickety room.” Sam struggled for breath as he spoke to me between sobs. “The floor, it slanted fun-house like. And the screws are sticking up, and they goes inside your feets, and you hands, and they goes inside your stomach when yous lying down –and then you moves and the boards give way, and you falls in the hole. I always fall in the hole. And yous cant get out, and then yous out, and the room it so hot, or so cold, and you can’t sees, and yous fall in again, and yous can’t see again, and yous can’t see even more, and you gets out, and yous fall in again. And again. With the screws in you, the cold and the hot, and the screwsm in all you body.”
The interview ended prematurely as Sam had to go off to his next class. And so for now the questions will remain: Pondicherry Yoga — is it safe? In the meantime, let us turn to another question in part two of our two-part series when we ask Lankville’s own John Knewstub: Pondicherry Yoga –is it spiritual?
Station’s a Gas for Area Youths
Bernie Keebler
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
There is a gas station in the Eastern Lankville Small Ponds Area that is described by its operator as “a financial disaster but at the same time a success.”
Located at the crossroads of the small pond community, the station, a faded white and orange concrete block building, bears the name “The Chariot Lodge”.
And the operator doesn’t grumble about car crazy youths hanging around- he encourages them.
“We needed a low-key ministry that was also a gas station to reach out to the youths of today,” noted 54-year old founder Rev. Plants Meulens, who has been minister of the nearby Small Ponds Church (located inside the mall) for the past six years.
Chariot Lodge owner and operator Plants Meulens (he’s the guy in the car).
Meulens says that the need became critical a few years ago when a large proportion of the Small Ponds Area contracted venereal disease.
“There was a ton of venereal disease. [President] Pondicherry even called at one point asking me what was going on. He said- why do you have so much venereal disease, Plants? I had nothing to tell him.”
“There were also a lot of fires around that time,” Meulens added.
His idea of starting a teen-age service station was supported by five other churches inside of malls.
“The clergymen really loved it because cars and youths just go together. But you don’t hear so much about cars and venereal disease although maybe sometimes, I guess,” Meulens noted.
Just Loafin’: Area Youths Keither Turley and Gina Quaint.
A non-profit organization was established and the Chariot Lodge was leased from a local decorative ham concern for $1200 a month.
The lodge quickly became a favorite hang-out of Small Pond Area youths.
“They love it,” said volunteer adult supervisor Mrs. Annette Bounds. “All kids are worth the effort. If you can keep them in the office of a gas station rather than out there getting venereal disease, well, then it’s all been worth it.”
Detective Gee-Temple noted that the Bureau of Probes responds to far fewer calls in the Small Pond Area.
“We have very little trouble with the Chariot Cabin [sic]. Plants has done a real good job up there.”
But the operation is not without problems points out Rev. Meulens.
“We’ve had some damage to some of the pumps, we don’t have any advertising budget and there is no toilet,” Meulens said. “Plus, we’re a complete financial disaster just oozing money because we have to depend solely on charity.”
“If all the parents of the kids who spend their time here would just buy some gas…” Meulens added before suddenly stomping off into some weeds. When he returned, the reverend noted, “if that happened, well, then maybe we’d go from the red to the black.”
Meet the Reporters of The Lankville Daily News
Gump Tibbs
My first interview was with Coach Keebler of the Lankville Juniors (Smaller) Hockey Club. He ignored all my hockey questions and started right in on a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle that you could order that had your own picture on it. “You can get these god damn things for a song, like under $20, I’m talking,” he said. “I elected to use an old army picture.” There was a long, seemingly meaningless pause. I had no idea what to say.
Then he started encouraging me to get one. “Course, the only thing is it takes about eight weeks, so I can’t exactly comment on the quality just yet. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, can you even imagine such a thing? A jigsaw puzzle with your own god damn picture on it?”
He looked me up and down then. I was just out of college and could only muster a reasonably clean white shirt, a gravy-stained tie and some basketball shorts.
“Let me buy you some clothes,” he said. “Help you get on your feet.” And he led me over to a church thrift store where he picked out a couple of suits, one Island. “I won’t lie to you,” the cashier said. “Some guy died in one of these. But I’ve forgotten which.” Coach Keebler bought them anyway.
And then, very quietly, he himself began to die. I could see it coming—it was slow, deliberate. Then, very suddenly, he collapsed into a stack of board games. Pieces flew everywhere.
I never wrote up that interview. But the suits got me on my way.
Gump Tibbs has been covering life in Lankville since 1982.
A Tour Of My Local ‘Lankville O’s’ Processing Plant
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Sometimes, my dear readers, your wishes really do come true. The news which I had secretly dreamed of since I was a little boy came via a tomato sauce-scented post card last week- ‘Lankville O’s’ CEO, Wally Denmark, was sending me a personal invitation to tour the local processing plant! It seems the company and Mr. Denmark himself have been quite pleased with not only my positive endorsement of everyone’s favorite canned pasta but also with my recipes incorporating them. What an honor!! Very few people are let into the doors to see ‘how the magic is made’ and even fewer get to see Mr. Denmark himself. The CEO was going to meet me at the plant to show me around!
Needless to say the night before the tour very few winks of sleep were had, I felt like that young boy again imagining what the inside of that processing plant was like. That morning waking up very early (7AM!!) I had my Mom prepare me a ‘Lankville O’s’ egg and scrapple sandwich with a generous side of ‘O’s’ with meat bits (my favorite type). My Dad offered to drive me there but the plant was so close it would be an easy walk.
My local processing plant 671B
The company is the number one job supplier to the Deep Northern Suburban Lankville area; there is one plant every .5 miles. Like the old saying goes- ‘If you are going to the Deep Northern Area don’t slip on any O’s!’ My local plant number was 671B.
Having never been to one or any other ‘working man’ type of plant before I was a little nervous about exactly where to enter and maybe having some type of large underpaid worker yell at me. As it turns out, I didn’t need to worry at all– it was like they were just waiting there to greet me! A small group of workers had a little red carpet rolled out and started clapping when I emerged from the nearby woods (the foot path was the quickest way to get there). Truckers, ready to roll out and deliver the goodness of the day, honked their horns and gave a friendly wave while I made my way across the parking lot. It was a delightful reception!
Once I made it to the group a sweaty, slightly nervous man who turned out to be the plant manager shook my hand while a few photos were snapped; then he quickly led me inside. The corporate offices were nothing to write home about even though the people were all very nice and stood and clapped while I was led through. The plant manager told me the CEO was in his private lounge (I think he has one in every plant) having a drink and anxiously awaiting my arrival. The lounge was tucked back behind the offices and seemed very spacious. The only two in there was the man himself and the bartender.
CEO Wally Denmark
“Please Bri,” said Wally Denmark, flashing me a warm smile. “Come over here and have a drink with me.”
I had the barkeep whip up a nice cold glass of strawberry milk (which had to be brought from the cafeteria since there was only hard alcohol stored in the bar).
“First off I hope my physical appearance does not disturb you. There are some nasty rumors going around saying I had these implanted into my forehead at a young age. Sure, I was a born billionaire and could have had that done but it’s really not true. This is just an unfortunate bone growth that only looks like horns. It does give the impression of absolute evil but I believe myself to be quite the opposite.” With the push of a button on the bar the plant manager came back in to nervously tell me how nice and supportive the CEO was. I told Mr. Denmark I was so excited about seeing the plant I didn’t even notice the horns.
“And I personally wanted to give you this tour not only for the mention in the paper which always helps sales but also because of your unique uses for the ‘O’s.”
“Glad you enjoy them.”
“Well I never tasted any of your ‘cutting edge ideas’ myself. You see, the last few months my company has been under what is known as a ‘hostile takeover’. Believe it or not some company out of the depths of Southern Lankville scrapped up enough money plus influence and tried to buy their way onto the Executive Board. I really thought they had me, these swine were right on the verge of getting into my company when I decided to have them over for dinner. They thought I was having them over so as a sort of ‘peace offering’– little did they know what was in store for them! My personal chef made a VERY generous helping of your “Lankville O’s Gelatin Dinner time Surprise’ and needless to say the group was soon gone. I feel a little indebted to you in a weird roundabout way.”
I didn’t understand what he meant. Did these folks take my recipe for their own purpose? I mean, I never kept it a secret. Ultimately, I decided I really didn’t care– I was just here to see the plant and told him so.
“Yes, let’s get this tour underway, I have ‘hostile takeovers’ of my own to work on later.”
Plant workers dong their best to make every can special
If you thought your typical ‘Lankville O’s’ processing plant was big from the outside you should see the inside!! We walked around the security railings which were on every level (Mr. Denmark doesn’t like to get himself dirty getting on the actual work floor). He rattled on about the facts and figures of the whole operation- how many cans were made each day at each plant and how much sauce it took etc etc. Would even go into detail about each machine and how it functioned. I’m sure he was telling me this so I could use the information for future articles. Embarrassingly however, in my excitement I left my notebook at home so no details were written down. I did enjoy watching all the employees hard at work trying to make each and every can special. I was trying my best to ignore all the ‘on site accidents’, the fingers and other body parts being sliced open or torn off with said parts just tumbling down the conveyor belts. Wally would shake his head and say “those things happen in big commercial operations.”
The ‘Killing Floor’
Is Mall Nut Kiosk Cursed? A Zach Keebaugh Investigation
Zachary Keebaugh
If you’re like a lot of people, you probably like to swing by Nuts, Ah!, when you’re hanging around Twin Removed Pines Mall. And why not? With over fifty thousand different varieties of nutmeat in one easy to access location by the fountains, it’s a no-brainer. Question is– is Nuts Ah! cursed? I aimed to find out. I am Zach Keebaugh, Investigative Reporter.
I met up with Marty Barrett, who founded the kiosk in 2007. Barrett was kind enough to bring me a little paper cone full of nuts but I wasn’t gonna’ let that influence me. I pushed the cone aside.
“Yo, people say your nut stand is built on cursed land, man? What’s up with that shit?” I asked.
“It’s untrue Zach. Nothing paranormal has ever occurred here and ever will,” he responded.
“I wouldn’t make that claim. The portals of hell could open up tomorrow and then where would you and your little nut stand be?”
Barrett sighed.
“I personally guarantee that Nuts Ah! is not cursed. The rumors are unfounded.”
Associate Nut Handler Sheila Tallinder has a different story.
Nuts Ah! Cursed?
“We’ll just be standing around or helping a customer and the next you know, there are some cryptic tablets. They just appear out of nowhere.”
“What do these tablets say?” I probed.
“They’re in a language that none of us can understand and they have these weird symbols on the back. A professor came by one time. He needed some nuts for his car. Anyway, we showed him and he told us they were something called “The Demonic Triads”.
“Yo, that’s some heavy shit. And this Marty Barrett guy doesn’t do anything about it?”
“Nothing. He takes the tablets out of the kiosk and gets rid of them somewhere.” She began crying and I put my arm around her. Then, I went and got her a big cookie, poor kid. The cookie was really soft and it kind of folded over on itself and fell into the fountain so it didn’t work out. It was kind of tough shit.
The Lankville Daily News then set up a surveillance camera to try to catch Barrett disposing of the demonic tablets. Unfortunately, a strange grey mist appeared when the embattled owner was in the kiosk only to disappear once he left the premises. We began to suspect that Barrett was the cause of the curse.
I probed further.
“Yo, what about that grey mist, man? And the tablets? You chucking them somewhere?”
“There are no tablets, Zach. I’m telling you- it’s just an ordinary nut kiosk.”
“That all you got to say?”
“That’s all.”
We stared each other down for a good fifteen minutes. I chugged the cone of nuts but kept my eye on him. He didn’t blink.
“What kind of necromancy are you practicing here, nut man?”
Barrett ended the interview.
I got my answer though.
The Lankville National Archives: A Magical Discovery of Our Shared Heritage
Buck Igloos
A trip to the Lankville National Archives in the Southeastern Savannah Area is a magical discovery of our shared heritage. No Lankvillian should pass up the opportunity for a visit.
Curator Steve Pilgrims. Pilgrims gave us this weird untoward expression for reasons unclear.
Located in a series of strange tubular-shaped buildings directly in the middle of the savannah and accessed via a long, poorly-maintained highway, the Archives are Lankville’s repository for anything and everything of historical, cultural, and social importance. “Everybody sends everything here,” noted Director Steve Pilgrims, head of the vast collection since 1998. “We’ve had to kind of start refusing things– people were just sort of sending whatever they felt like– animals, trash, it was getting kind of ridiculous.”
Pilgrims led us into a vast gallery where the current exhibit, “The Lost Vernacular Signage of Lankville” is housed.
“You might look at these gaudy little fliers and think, “What the heck, Steve?” This is just a bunch of junk,” noted Pilgrims. ” But these fliers and handbills say a lot about social concerns through the years, about what individuals felt was worth advertising, worth announcing to their communities. It’s been very, very well-received.”
The infamous “This Bitch Has a Green Patina” flier. Origin unknown.
Perhaps most prominent on the eastern wall of the exhibit is a collection of the infamous “This Bitch Has a Green Patina” leaflet that appeared all over Lankville for many years. “It’s a curious case- we have no idea if the bitch was lost, if someone was looking for him, what the deal was,” said Pilgrims, who paused briefly to examine a patron who had hanged himself in a distant corner. “Calls to the phone number in question reveal nothing– as a matter of fact, that’s not even a proper [Lankville] phone number,” Pilgrims added.
“I Have a Cabinet” mini-magazine. Origin unknown.
A collection of curious pamphlets sit on a table in the middle of the room, covered by glass. “These were collected from bus stations, basement cultural presentations, small motel girl wrestling events. Sort of the detritus left behind,” noted Pilgrims. “Again, the origins of just about all of these are unclear. Nobody has stepped forward to claim them.”
The crown jewel of the exhibit however, are the “apeshit coupons”. Thousands of them, in all sizes and colors– found all over Lankville.
“You’d buy, say, a delicious icey cold slushy drink and you’d get to the bottom of the drink and there would be an apeshit coupon,” said Pilgrims. “And the guy that sold you the delicious icey cold slushy drink would be as flummoxed as you– no idea how it got there. Calls to the cup manufacturer would reveal the same information. Or you’d buy a new book and you’d get to page 131 and BAM- there would be another apeshit coupon. It was a complete mystery- never solved.”
“They’re still out there,” Pilgrims added. “People still find them occasionally. Gee-Temple, The Bureau of Probes– they’ve come up with nothing.
One of the infamous “apeshit coupons”.
“The Lost Vernacular Signage of Lankville” runs through August 28, 2015. “It will really be your last chance to see this material for quite awhile,” stressed Pilgrims. “In particular, the “apeshit coupons” will be returned to The Bureau of Probes and some of the mysterious pamphlets will be placed into folders which will be filed by these gigantic robotic arms we have that never seem to file anything correctly which leads to us thinking that a lot of material has been lost.”
“Something we’re definitely working on,” Pilgrims stated after a long and somewhat eerie silence.
Tickets for the exhibit are $10 (free for some babies).
President Pondicherry on the State of Lankville
President Pondicherry
Each day in Lankville is a celebration of the past; a joyous reaffirmation of what it means to be Lankvillians; a confirmation before the world of the vitality and durability of liberty.
It is because of liberty that we will be holding presidential elections in 2016. There will be many candidates. Some may seem better than me– they may have better posters. But I trust that you will vote with your heart, Lankville, as you have always done. The people will speak.
I want you to speak to me. Tell me about the elections. Tell me about liberty. I want to hear from you late at night when all the birds have flown into barns and only the sound of the lonely hoot owl remains. You can be drunk. This is liberty.
Our plans for the future are rigorous and innovative. The Northern Hole Area, long a center of vice and iniquity, will soon be completely leveled and replaced with malls and computer rooms. We have plans to construct an enormous super-highway straight through the area. There will be many ramps and overpasses. The guard rails will be topped with gold. It will be the envy of the world. We look forward to the day when no one with a car will be left behind.
Each day, I take a moment to sit in a patio chair outside the palace and reflect upon the lot of all Lankvillians. I believe in you and your happiness. It is my only non-sexual desire to make your life better. I often fall asleep for hours.
We will prevail.
God Bless You and God Bless Lankville,
President Pondicherry
Getting to Know Your Local Restaurateurs
Brian Schropp
CUISINE BY BRIAN SCHROPP
The restaurant business is a crazy game. Especially in the depths of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville, you see the food establishments come and go with a reckless fury. So, what makes the good ones last? The taste palette of your typical Deep Northerner can be a complicated one indeed. You need the flavors to be deep, rich and bold- a true Deep Northerner will understand the taste of ‘Lankville O’s’ mixed in a tater tot casserole better than most. One person who is trying to get the answer right is a good friend of mine, Eddie. So far in all his culinary ventures it’s been a very mixed result. I sat down to interview him at his new place ‘Eddie’s’, a newer more upscale affair than his previous restaurant ‘Eddie’s Sub Shack’.
Unfortunately things seemed a little quiet in what should of been a very busy lunch time rush. Eddie was sitting over at a table piled high with bills while punching away at an adding machine ‘trying to make the numbers work’. He was also wearing a pretty nice bra that suited him well. Before getting into the food game Eddie was known around Deep Northern Suburban Lankville as the ‘weird dude who always walked around with a bra on’. He was a local sensation for awhile being in parades and such. I guess he thought his celebrity would help propel him to a successful food career.
Eddie- trying to make the food business work for him.
I took a seat pushing one of the stacks of bills away so I could see him.
“Hey Bri, just working on these figures and I gotta say it’s not looking very good. The expenses are far outweighing the people who are coming in and putting something in their mouths. I had high hopes of really making this new place as fancy as possible but I’m still using plastic utensils instead of nice silverware. In fact, I’m using the same plastic utensils over and over again since my budget will only allow for one pack.”
“Well I guess as long as you keep washing them that’s OK.”
“Yeah sure keep washing them. I need money for dish soap.”
“Are lunches always this slow?”
“Pretty much. As you can see I have a small buffet set up in the corner by that plastic plant. They say a buffet is a good way of drawing customers in but I’m not sure if it’s really working for me. I’m putting out what any Deep Northerner would look for. White bread with gravy, you can put the gravy on anything over there- the Canned Western Lankville Sausages, the cheesy pasta shells, the various meat bits. It’s good gravy, I got it at the store the other day at a good price. Also have some of those extra spicy nacho chips with a can of nacho cheese, I’ll open the can if someone is interested. Oh and a celery stick in case a person wants to put it with their food to make it look pretty.”
“Why are your bras hanging next to the buffet?”
“Oh, I’m offering a ‘Bra Buffet Special’. You can fill up both sides of the bra for $9.98, the bra cups are pretty deep so it’s a good deal.”
“Do you wash those?”
The ‘Bra Buffet Special’ $9.98 for BOTH cups.
“When I can. I’m a pretty clean guy, I wash at least a few times a week. In fact the one I am wearing now a guy used for my Monday ‘Lankville O’s’ buffet special. I had that canned pasta goodness in all sorts of packaged meat bits and discounted veggies microwaved to perfection. Well actually the dude just wanted to try on the bras which was fine because he paid for the buffet. These Monday buffets have been my most successful so far.”
“How many people have come?”
“Oh, so far only that guy.”
“Have you seen my recent recipe for the ‘Lankville O’s Gelatin Dinner Time Surprise’? Maybe you could modify something like that to help increase sales.”
“I have seen it!! Looks so wonderful but also just looks too complicated to make.”
“It is at first,” I admitted. “The trick is using the right amount of non-toxic glue. And please don’t try to microwave this one, if you’re going to make it you gotta turn on your stove.”
“I try not to use the stove for much cooking.”
“I guess it’s been kinda rough trying to establish yourself as a fancy restaurant yet having to do this more common buffet.”
“Very much so! If I could only sell this food that’s in the buffet then I could use that money to buy some slightly better food and so on until the money started to flow in. This stuff here can only be refrigerated so many times before it doesn’t even look right.”
“How is the dinner experience going?”
“A little better than the lunches, I go down to the local shelter and pick up what food they have left over to use. Most of the time the stuff looks OK, I use my culinary skills to rework most of it into more fancy dining food.”
“The ‘Maple Chicken’ I got here a few weeks ago was really good, I think I recognized the syrup you used, I use it all the time on my breakfast sandwiches.”
“It’s probably the same brand, I get it at the store real cheap.”
“You know how to keep a nugget crisp even when microwaving it, that’s a pretty impressive skill.”
“Thanks. Hey, who was that crazy dude you were with? The one who freaked out on you?”
“Oh that was my Therapist, Dr. Nickelbee.”
“I would stay away from him, Bri. Not only am I a restaurateur and bra wearer but I am also a ‘soul seer’. I use to travel around with a carnival– yes I did get paid for it but it’s something I really see. That man has a real tortured soul, one of the worst I have ever seen. His inner core is pure chaos.”
“Well, Eddie I really don’t have a choice. My folks are making me see him for his ‘services’, he’s very cheap which appeals to them.”
“Then please, my friend, use your special bumpkin sense around him and use caution.”
’The Maple Chicken’ which I had before.
Eddie is such a good friend. We talked for a bit more about the food business and before I left a customer even came in! The man was actually just looking for a pay phone but Eddie talked him into shelling out the $9.98 for the bra buffet. In the left cup he put some western canned sausages (sprinkling some of the meat bits on top)– the last part was my suggestion. The right cup was filled with the cheesy pasta and he didn’t take up my idea of putting on the gravy. I said the canned gravy is what really makes this buffet special but I guess not everyone wants to follow everything a trophy-winning food critic with my taste profile has to say.
The gentlemen started pushing his luck slightly– asking if any drink was included in the price. Eddie being the man that he is got some tap water and filled up both cups of another bra for him. Halfway through the customer was grumbling about being able to make this at home but that there was something quite ‘erotic’ about it. He asked if Eddie or myself would be putting on any type of show maybe using the other bras somehow. Eddie just shook his head no, the guy said if there was a show attached maybe it would be worth the price and next time he would bring his wife.
Two weirdos for the bra buffet in one week who would of thought!! I wish Eddie continued success in trying to make it in the rough and tumble food trade. If you get a chance please stop and try to support him for either lunch or dinner time dining. Just say you know me and I am sure he will break out the slightly cleaner plastic ware. Until next time dear readers please keep your mouths and minds open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!-Bri
Real Life Cases of the Lankville Police Department
Hugh G. Pickens
All the urchins in Herrera’s neighborhood liked to come around in the cool of the evening, hang on the fire escape, and listen to stories of his days as the star first baseman for The Balloons, the local nine. “I hit many,” he would say in his dumb Lankvillian and then the children would watch as he replicated his famous left-handed swing. His arms were now covered with prison tattoos, strange rainbow-colored abrasions, and small squares of burlap, pasted to the skin but this only further intrigued the dissolute youths.
Then they began to disappear.
At first, the authorities were hesitant to get involved. These were the days of mysterious disappearances– bushes, billboards, mailboxes, sometimes even entire buildings would suddenly be gone. “They’re Islanders,” said Detective Gee-Temple and for awhile it was left at that. But then neighbors began reporting strange sounds coming from Herrera’s fourth-floor walk-up, often in the middle of the night. “The sound is telescoping,” explained a gaunt biology student who lived across the hall and came by the Detective’s office one sweltering summer afternoon to make his report. “It starts out sounding like a power tool but then radiates outwards and changes in timbre. It becomes almost gel-like, like the summoning of ooze.” Gee-Temple couldn’t follow any of it. The boy was clearly crazy. Plus, the Cordial Air-Roborant window unit had busted and the heat was terrible. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the streets erupted in chaos.
The intrepid Detective Houston Gee-Temple
The student was nattering on. “It’s like someone mixed products into some sort of primordial crawling jelly, emptied the concoction into a mail sack and then just bounced the sack up and down on the floor all night. Yes, that’s exactly what it’s like.” The boy seemed very pleased with himself.
Gee-Temple began to feel murderous. The interview had to be ended.
“Alright, son. I’ll make a visit to Mr…what is it?….Herrera this evening.”
He waited until night. The building sat on its own, between two empty dirt lots. There was an abandoned Pappy’s Chicken House across the street. The drive-thru roof had collapsed on a truck, no one had bothered to remove the detritus. “I remember that case,” Gee-Temple thought. He noticed that the bucket of chicken was still on the dashboard. Some kids sat on the curb smoking. The wave of smoke was that of marijuana. “Pot people,” thought the Detective. But he pressed on.
He found Herrera’s name written idiotically on a mailbox in the litter-filled lobby. There was a machine that dispensed small cartons of milk but someone had tipped it over. He tried the elevator. The “UP” button dinged but nothing further happened. He huffed it up the stairs.
Herrera’s door was the last on the left. Two or three old take-out menus lurked in a dusty corner. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Someone had eaten half a pizza and then stomped the rest into the carpet. Gee-Temple thought suddenly of the time he had brought his estranged wife a pizza as a peace offering. He had handed her the box in the lobby of what had been their home. She dropped it at his feet and walked away. “No greater insult,” thought Gee-Temple, “than dropping a wonderful pizza at the feet of your lover.” He realized then that he had said it aloud in the forlorn hallway. He heard from somewhere the sound of a sash being thrown, now heavy footfall down a fire escape. He had given Herrera a head start.
He ran down four flights with the service pistol drawn and into an empty dark street. The Pappy’s Chicken House had disappeared, replaced by huge shards of old blacktop. There was nothing more to be done. A crumpled memo blew up against his leg. He picked it up. Someone is posing as a fireman to gain access to the fire station. Several hoses are missing…he read. There was no end to it. He walked all the way back to the station.
“I will endure,” he thought.
Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.
Dick Oakes, Jr.
I was squatting in a dirt lot behind a trailer park. The heat was terrible.
There was another guy there– drawing meaningless figures in the dirt with a stick.
“Used to own the Pelican,” he said. “You know it?”
I spit off to the side and said I didn’t.
“Christ, we had everything to flatter your taste,” he said mournfully. “Seafood, fresh from the Lankville Gulf, rib-eyes, package goods, two parking lots, a faggot piano player. It was a hell of a joint.”
It suddenly seemed hotter.
“It was a place where you could meet friends and make friends. It was a place that people remembered. I pissed it all away.”
I was intrigued in a minor sort of way. “What happened?”
He continued drawing in the dirt. “Down at the Tropic-Air they had these efficiency apartments. That’s where Dolly lived.” He trailed off.
“Cutting a little slice on the side?”
He looked up. He wasn’t long for it, I knew it. A fire alarm went off somewhere. He vomited a bit into a soiled handkerchief.
“Find another dirt lot to squat in,” he said suddenly. “This here is my dirt lot. I squat here.”
I didn’t feel up to a rumpus so I walked out. And I thought about the Tropic-Air and Dolly– wondered if she was still around.
A few hours passed before I found the place. It was off on its own by some abandoned piers. By then, I had finished off a six-pack. You could walk around with a six-pack dangling from your hand– nobody gave a damn.
An old couple was sitting out under the office awning. I staggered up.
“Hey, you got a big girl here named Dolly?” I said. I was feeling a little unsteady. “Probably a big god damn girl, some piece of god damn arm candy?” I couldn’t make anything of what I was saying and I started to feel dizzy.
“Get him a room,” the old man said. “Bring the wheelbarrow over.” I collapsed into it.
When I came to it was dusk. The room was decorated in pile carpets and plastic molded furniture. They had thrown up some paneling but it was worn through in places. Nothing moved in the stale air.
I propped the door open and some sand blew in. I couldn’t figure on any of it.
I was just about to shut myself in for the night when I noticed a girl lounging on a patio chair two rooms over. She was tanned and exotic-looking; brown-eyed. A book was in her hands. I squinted for the title– Better Crop Yields. There was a photo of a harvester kicking up dirt on the front.
Look at her Oakes. Everything you always wanted.
I stumbled over to the office. The old couple were still there– playing a board game I didn’t recognize under the awning.
“I need a six-pack Johnny. Run and get me a six-pack.” I handed him a crumpled bill. The old man whistled between his teeth and a kid appeared from around back.
“You go on back to your room, mister. Gustavus will bring it to you.”
I passed by the girl on my way back. She was really focused on the crop yield book. I couldn’t account for any of it.
I sat down inside the room and took out some stationary. There was a little drawing on the top showing the motel– next to that it said “YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME– GOD BLESS”. I figured on slipping a note under her door but couldn’t think of nothing. I wrote, “I think you’re beautiful. Do you want to watch TV?” but tore it up. I wasn’t no wordsmith, I knew it.
Gustavus left the six-pack outside. I sat down on a patio chair a few seats down from the girl. It was nearly pitch-black out. They hadn’t flipped the lights on yet.
“These beers…they’re cold,” I said, idiotically. “God damn asshole,” I cursed myself silently.
She looked up. Her eyes were huge– there was a certain radiance even in the darkness.
“Ancient beer was unfiltered,” she said. Her voice was hard to classify– it was musical, almost. “Ancient beer would have included various herbs and spices, uncommon today. And it would not have come in cans. The ruination of your beverage is nearly complete.”
I shrugged. “Goes down fine.” I threw an empty can into the parking lot.
“Some will tell you it’s a feat of industrial chemistry unmatched in the world,” she said. I could see she was looking towards the office. “You are drinking industrial chemistry.”
I suddenly pitched forward in the darkness and vomited. They still hadn’t put the damn lights on.
“It’s true that I’m beautiful,” she said. I looked up but couldn’t see her. “That is merely a confluence of biological forces. However, I’m not interested in watching TV.”
She shut the book and walked into her room.
It was a fitful night’s sleep.
The Electronics Cranny: New Products!
Fritz Tennis
SHUT-OFF SWITCH from Applied Restrained Electronics, Inc.
A new switch not much bigger than a Lankville “A-Form” paper clip which automatically shuts off a tape recorder if the tape breaks, is being marketed by Applied Restrained Electronics, Inc., P.O. Box 10, Deep Lankville Savannah Suburban Area (West). The device incorporates a non-magnetic nylon housing filled with leaves, over which the tape passes. In the event of breakage, the leaves are jettisoned into the air, alerting the operator of the issue. If the operator does not respond with 15 seconds, a second “safety cache” of leaves equipped with exploding fireworks are released, thereby adding the warning dimension of sound. The main body of the switch is less than 11/2″ in length and is Electronics Cranny approved at 3 amperes, 250 V.A.C., 14 BBTS. For price details, contact the manufacturer (after 10 p.m.).
EXISTENCE from Danny Madison Industries
Danny Madison Industries is marketing a new automatic tape player which promises to be the last word in automatic tape players. “Existence” will play up to 1600 hours of unrepeated time utilizing a simple 14″ reel at 33/4 ips. “Existence will record sounds and notes that do not even exist yet, have never been heard by the human ear,” promises wunderkind inventor Danny Madison. “Although I am naturally skeptical to such hogwash, I will note that if there be a heaven, “Existence” will record it.”
Existence by Danny Madison.
Reviewers are already ogling over the machine, whose abilities are being called “unparalleled”.
“It was able to record imperceptible noises coming off my…wife,” noted contributor Neil Cuppy. “Noises that have never been heard before. My…wife…couldn’t believe it. It was almost frightening.”
Other features include: gold and silver satin anodized aluminum construction, synchronous motor, “Reckoner” compartment, fast forward and reverse, automatic release for continuous play following a power failure, speakers, “sound cages”.
“Existence” retails for $795 and, per usual for a Danny Madison product, is already sold-out in pre-order.
THE TRAUMA MICROPHONE from The Tubelabs Company
The Trauma Microphone from The Tubelabs Company.
The Tubelabs Company of the Lankville Peninsula have designed a new low-density, junior velocity microphone for recording stories of challenges and trauma. “A lot of our tape recordings were muffled with a lot of interference, static and street noise, rendering much important information useless,” noted Detective Gee-Temple. “Myself and the Bureau of Probes requested the construction of a better microphone and we’re glad to see that the Tubelabs Company have obliged.”
The microphone was initially tested on an old woman who was struck by a vehicle at high speeds while shopping in a mall. “The car burst through a big window, ran me over, and just continued on. I dragged myself over to the food court, bought a cookie that was so hot out of the oven that just it collapsed into my mouth, and waited for help to arrive.”
The woman’s testimony was crystal clear and was deemed presentable as credible evidence in an upcoming court case.
“The part about the cookie was really, really clear. You could just taste that cookie,” Gee-Temple noted.
For more information write The Tubelabs Company, 27 Shelby-Cruz Building, Lankville Peninsula.
It’s Time to Inflate Your Feelings Tube
Dr. Kevin Thurston
Dr. Kevin Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.
I want you to imagine yourself as a child with an inner tube around your waste about to frolic along the edge of the ocean waves. Listen to the calm crash of the surf, the timeless call of the pelicans, the simple but understated sound of a foam ice chest top being lifted and a sandwich produced. Let peace wash over you.
As you’ve grown to manhood, that inner tube is still there. Not literally (although, maybe for some– Dr. Kevin Thurston does not discriminate against any form of alternative lifestyle). It’s there as a tight tube of feelings around your chest, encircling your heart.
Often, as the years pass, that tube will become deflated. The feelings will slowly leak out and away into the ether. Or the tube will be suddenly crushed as your spirit (represented by the tube, remember) is flattened. This could be the cause of a divorce, the loss of employment, or the consistent rejection of your four-act, one-man wordless play. Life can deal one a bad hand.
But Dr. Kevin Thurston is here with a remedy. Together, we will inflate that feelings tube. We will pump it back into a ring of protection, happiness and manhood. Make an appointment with me today. Most men have forged a new tube of positive feelings by session eight. I know you can too.
I also have actual inner tubes available featuring bright, inviting colors for a fun day at the beach. Transparent, smooth seam to prevent skin irritation. $9.99 for the pair.
THEATRE: New Play Misses Mark
Lance Pepsid
The premier of a play by a Lankville writer is generally an event of some importance. Therefore, it is disturbing to report that Gore Bins which opened last evening at the Danny Madison Industries Actor’s Arena, missed its mark.
In the final scene, one of the characters puts her finger on the sore spot when she says, “this is inferior. I wish I knew why.”
The work of Cust Shirley, who has heretofore written novels, poetry and Hobo Village, a folk play with music, has been roundly dismissed by critics. Gore Bins continues the theme– it is a bundle of impassioned protests directed towards obscure targets. The character motivations are undeveloped and the general impression is one of confusion.
It would seem that Shirley, who arguably has very little to say, made the mistake of trying to say it all at once, quickly, without making any effort to formulate and augment it effectively. The constant, seemingly pointless, tossing of gore from the catwalks merely serves to exacerbate the problem.
“It was about every 30 seconds or so, they’d drop some gore,” noted patron Steven Buechele of the Lankville Outlands. “It was, like, a bunch of ground-up sausages or something made to look like intestines. The loud splat against the stage floor made it difficult to hear some of the lines that were being delivered.”
Shirley chose as his hero one Marty Totts, a bin salesman (played by Leo Gomez in his debut) who elects to champion the cause of Nino, a fisherman accused of murder.
Marty Totts examines some undercarriage rust in a scene from “Gore Bins”.
The opening scene at Marty’s summer home at Lankville Beach presents an air of suspense with the arrival of Lieutenant Elia who announces that a search is being made for Nino’s victim among “the rocks down by the ocean.” In this scene, JoAnna Breese fares well in the role of “Lisas”, the fiancee of Marty. Jim Corsi, as Lieutenant Elia turns in the most believable performance of the play. Gore is dropped fifteen times with no characters seeming to take notice.
Lisas takes on the defense of Nino; she says, “I will clear his name at whatever cost in personal shame and degradation.” Lieutenant Elia responds, “why, there’s no need for that” to which Lisas says, “Oh, good, alright.” A bunch of gore is dropped and the scene ends.
Nino, however, is still arrested and a long, senseless court scene ensues– Robin Yount is particularly terrible as the distracted judge. Marty and Lisas house suddenly burns down offstage (although a fire was still set) and they are taken into the home of Boy-O, who endeavors to seduce Lisas and, despite his overall unappealing apperance (a lot of the gore falls on him) is successful. The love scene is awkward, rather lewd and marred by a lot of gore falling on the bed.
A street fight occurs between Marty and Boy-O and shortly thereafter, the entire neighborhood erupts into a game of tireless orgying and nothing ends up resolved.
Don McGovern, as Boy-O plays his role with skill and Lillian Tennis as the turtle trainer is competent but even their performances failed to lend support to the proceedings.
Summed up, the play is a travesty. It was produced and directed by Shirley.
McLemore to Defend Small Motel Girl Wrestling Title Tonight
Dick Oakes, Jr.
Small motel girl wrestler Tandy McLemore, who has successfully defended her title six times this past year, will meet the Sensational Xenith in a one-fall finish title match at the El Patio Motel in Capital City tonight.
Tandy McLemore, Champion.
Miss McLemore has defeated every small motel girl wrestler of note since acquiring the crown earlier this year. The Sensational Xenith figures to test the champion to the limit tonight and an exciting match is in prospect, with all the hair-pulling, punching and nudity usually in evidence when two members of the deadlier sex collide.
“I don’t think I’ll have too much problem with Xenith,” McLemore noted at a press conference held this morning in the office of the El Patio Motel. “She’s a good [small motel girl] wrestler but she doesn’t have that sixth sense one needs in this game. She tripped over a hassock in her last match– that’s a rookie mistake, we all know it.”
Xenith, either 20 or 35, believes she will win.
“Tandy is a good [small motel girl] wrestler but I’ve studied the films and I believe she can be beaten. If you get her in a corner by a floor lamp, she can’t get out.”
Promoters have asserted that both [small motel girl] wrestlers are virgins.
“Yep, both virgins,” noted Sammy “The Cylinder” Cummings. “Got the papers and everything. They’re in the car though. I’ll get ’em later.”
Cummings wandered off and the interview ended prematurely.
Three one-fall preliminary bouts featuring local bone benders, will complete the program. Tickets still remain although most are limited to standing room against the wall by the bureau.
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