Archive
Dick La Hoyt on the New Copy Machine They Got at His Work, Other Miscellany
Dick La Hoyt
Outstanding Opinions
We got a new copy machine down at the Tire Shredding Plant. You oughta’ see this beauty. First off, she’s a Danny Madison Crusader with the HD color touchscreen– must have set the company back a pretty penny, I’ll tell you. This baby’s got a 1600 sheet capacity– seriously, they’re not assing around, man. You got a resolution of 1200 x 1200 dpi, page output of up to 6000 sheets a month, SVGA LCD graphics, the whole bit– one of the guys in the office even told me that the damn thing’ll order you up a pizza from anywhere in Lankville. It’s a serious piece of equipment.
You really can’t go wrong with a Danny Madison product. Tam’s got some kind of a tablet– god damn thing talks to you. And I mean, a serious conversation. Tam’ll be lying in bed with that gigantic-ass t-shirt she wears that’s got the Lankville flag on it and says- TRY AND BURN THIS and she’ll just be lying there and she’ll say, “Tablet, what appointments do I have tomorrow?” and sure as shit this tablet will tell her. And then, Tam’ll say, “What about Ms. Ludwig at 3PM– what did she need again?” and the god damn thing’ll tell her. It’s freaky, I’ll put that on record right now. Chalk up a sense of amazement for Dick, chalk it up right now, go ahead.
We get most of our Danny Madison products down at the Electronics Grandee on Highway 52. It’s a couple of Kurt’s that own the place– funny that way, a couple of guys named Kurt both went into business together. I commented on that to Tam once and she started hollering at me something about, “WELL GOD DAMN RIGHT THEY SHOULD GO INTO GOD DAMN BUSINESS TOGETHER, THEY BOTH GOT THE SAME GOD DAMN NAME. IT’S A NATURAL WINNER” and then she started crying. I think it was on account of the old crimson wave, as the poet said.
Not much else going on in ol’ Dick La Hoyt’s world. I did get punched in the mouth recently.
OPINION: I’ve Been Smashed in the Neck by a 2 x 4 Before, I’ll Be Smashed in the Neck by a 2 x 4 Again
By Dick La Hoyt
TIMELY OPINIONS
Yeah, this here’s a message for that little dipshit that smashed me in the neck with a 2 x 4 yesterday at The Lumber Brouhaha. Guess what, shit for brains? I been crushed in the neck with a 2 x 4 before and I’ll sure as hell be crushed in the neck with a 2 x 4 again.
So, here’s what happened. You remember that sweet deck Dick La Hoyt built last Fall, right? Well, look– Tam thinks it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. Just the other day, she was all like– “Oh, Dick, lounging around outside takes on a whole new meaning ever since you put up this motherfucker.” I’m flattered by the compliment, I really am, but I gotta’ tell you– to the seasoned eye, I’m starting to see some problems. There’s a little wobble in a couple of the boards and a bit of greying underneath over near one section. Dick La Hoyt don’t like it– not at all and I’ve been sizing up ripping the whole thing out and starting over. Tam’s all like, “OH MY GOD, DICK LA HOYT, there ain’t no reason for that” but I can’t live with it anymore. It’s gotta’ be fixed my way and so with that in mind, I head on down to see my buddy Chris at The Lumber Brouhaha.
Chris and me go way back to the old neighborhood. We used to chase tail back in the day, go on fishing trips and hang out at the old Lingus Nets arena. One time, we both got pretty damn lit and ended up pissing in some guy’s vegetable garden. Needless to say, we both got punched in the mouth. Not the first time and not the last, let me tell you what.
Anyway, Chris showed me some of the new stock they got down at the Brouhaha. Beautiful red oak they just got in and I started thinking maybe that was the way to go.
Well, the next thing you know this little guy comes out of nowhere and pinches my cart. It was a good one too– one of those nice orange ones with the double handles. Sure, I didn’t have nothing on it but it was only a couple of feet from me. This candy ass didn’t even ask or nothing.
“Hey man,” I called out. “That cart is SPOKEN FOR!”
“It don’t got your name on it anywhere,” the guy responded.
That did it. Dick La Hoyt don’t take no shit from anybody at The Lumber Brouhaha. You might as well be coming into my god damn living room and swiping my favorite recliner.
“YOU AND ME, WE’RE TAKING THIS OUTSIDE,” I hollered.
“GLADLY,” he said.
I led him to a little spot I knew of between the Brouhaha and that elegant reception hall or whatever that everybody’s always going on about.
I turned to face him and the next thing I know– BAM! I take a 2 x 4 right in the neck.
Chris was the one that found me.
“Jesus Christ, Dick,” he said. “You got a big ol’ red mark on your neck.”
“WHERE’S THAT HORSES’ ASS?” I called out.
“He put a bunch of lumber on that cart of yours. Paid and walked right out with it. That’s how come I knew to look for you– I knew that was your cart. That’s the one with them double handles.”
“GOD DAMN, RIGHT,” I said. I was having a hell of a time catching my breath.
“Want me to call Tam?” he said.
“Nah, I’ll be alright. Let me just lay here a minute.”
Chris sat with me. Me and him go way back.
Anyway, I just want to make sure that asshead knows that didn’t get one over on ol’ Dick La Hoyt. I been smashed in the neck with a 2 x 4 before and I’ll sure as the sun rises get smashed in the neck again.
The opinions of Dick La Hoyt are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
OPINION: TURN AROUND IN TONY PEPPERONY’S DRIVEWAY AND YOU MIGHT FIND YOURSELF WITH A TIRE UP YOUR ASS
By Tony Pepperony
TONY PEPPERONY LIVES ON A NICE, QUIET DEAD END STREET.
PEOPLE, SEE, SOMETIMES THEY DON’T PAY NO ATTENTION AND THEY DON’T REALIZE IT’S A DEAD END STREET. SO, THEY GOTTA’ TURN AROUND, SEE? SO, THEY PICK SOMEBODY’S DRIVEWAY TO TURN AROUND IN.
WELL, LET ME TELL YOU RIGHT NOW: YOU PICK TONY PEPPERONY’S DRIVEWAY TO TURN AROUND IN AND YOU MIGHT FIND YOURSELF WITH A TIRE UP YOUR ASS.
MADGE AND I SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THE PEBBLE LINER THAT RUNS UP EITHER SIDE OF THE DRIVEWAY TO THE GARAGE. CHRIST, TONY PEPPERONY HAS BEEN KNOWN TO BRING A GOD DAMN BIG DIGITAL LEVEL OUT TO MAKE SURE IT’S EVEN. HELL, TONY PEPPERONY’S EVEN BEEN KNOWN TO TAKE AN ARIEL SHOT FROM THE ROOF JUST SO’S HE CAN BE A HUNDRED PER CENT CERTAIN. AND IF YOU THINK IT’S EASY TO CLIMB UP ON THE ROOF AT MY AGE, WELL, ASSHOLE, THINK AGAIN. GO TO HELL.
NOW, LAST NIGHT, SOME GUY THAT WRITES FOR THIS VERY PAPER, TURNED AROUND IN MY DRIVEWAY. HE DISTURBED ALL THE PEBBLES. THERE WERE PEBBLES IN THE GRASS. NOW, TONY PEPPERONY CAN’T STAND TO SEE THAT. PEBBLES BELONG IN THE PEBBLE BED, IN THE PEBBLE LINER, NOT IN THE GOD DAMN GRASS.
NOW, THIS GUY THAT WRITES FOR THIS VERY PAPER, HE SAYS HE’S COMING OVER WITH HIS PEBBLE RAKE LATER ON. WHO EVER HEARD OF A PEBBLE RAKE? I THINK THIS GUY IS SHINING ME ON. HE THINKS HE’S GOT TONY PEPPERONY FIGURED OUT BUT HE AIN’T GOT TONY PEPPERONY FIGURED OUT. I GOT HIM FIGURED OUT. THAT’S THE NATURE OF THIS GOD DAMN EQUATION.
NEEDLESS TO SAY, TONY PEPPERONY FIXED HIS OWN PEBBLE BED.
SO, OF ALL OF YOU, I ASK– WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? TONY PEPPERONY?
I THINK NOT.
The opinions of Tony Pepperony are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
OPINION: Our Diet Candy Ain’t No Fuck Around Shit
By Joe Tipps
Here at Tipps Supermarkets, we just started carrying diet candy.
And let me tell you something, our diet candy ain’t no fuck around shit.
You might have tried that diet candy bullshit they got over at Barlow Foods. Comes in those big barrels? You ever see someone scooping candy out of a barrel? Makes you look like a grade A asshole, I’ll go right out on a limb and assert that fucking shit right now.
That Barlow Foods Candy– you know what it says to me? It says, “hey, we’re just assing around here. We don’t give no god damn shit about your dietetic needs.” But that ain’t what you’re gonna’ get here at Tipps. You’re gonna’ get diet candy that pile drives you right in the taste buds. A god damn feast of diet candy.
So, if you’re just some kinda’ shithead, sure– keep going to get your diet candy at Barlow’s. Otherwise, take a step up to the plate and come on over to Tipps, motherfucker.
The opinions of Joe Tipps are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
OPINION: I’ve Been Punched in the Mouth at a Candlelit Child’s Christmas Eve Pageant Before, I’ll Be Punched in the Mouth at a Candlelit Child’s Christmas Eve Pageant Again
By Dick La Hoyt
Seasonal Opinions from the Archives
This is a message for that joker that punched me in the mouth at a candlelit Christmas Eve pageant last night. Guess what, asshole? Been punched at one before, I’ll be punched at one again.
My niece was playing one of the animals from the first Christmas at some auditorium, so I went along. Got a chair right near the front in the middle aisle and I laid my coat over the back and then popped off my knitted sweater and draped that over a couple more chairs, one for my sister and her husband. Then, I ducked out back in the parking lot for a cigarette.
I come back and you wouldn’t believe it. My coat is thrown off to one side and this horse’s ass is sitting in my seat. So, I go up to him and I’m like WHOAAAAA BUDDY! THESE SEATS ARE SPOKEN FOR! This guy, he starts arguing with me about the coat and the sweater not being no “reserved” sign and I say YOU BETTER STEP OFF MAN, BETTER STEP OFF and my sister starts crying and pulling at my arm cause all the kids are starting to come onstage in their donkey outfits or whatever and some dude is walking around lighting these candles that was set up everywhere.
“We better take this one outside,” this clown says. GLADLY I say, and we start out a side exit. I turn around and BAM. I take it right in the mouth. I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in some sand. Must’ve been a playground or something. I could hear singing coming through the windows of the candlelit auditorium. I tasted blood.
So, just so this motherlovin’ asshead knows it– you ain’t the first, pal. I’ve been punched in the mouth at a candlelit child’s Christmas Eve pageant before, I’ll be punched in the mouth at a candelit child’s Christmas Eve pageant again.
OPINION: I Step Aside for No Earthly Being
By Carl Dunn
You’ve seen me. A demon in a kind of nightmare, perhaps?
Out at Twin Removed Pines Mall, over in the corner of Lot B by the frozen meat store. The boarded-up fotomat.
I live there. But maybe not for long. The Lankville government wants me out.
Back in June, when I set up my patio furniture around the fotomat, was when they first noticed. A man from the mall, his face like a pitiless crag and bearing the degenerate name of Kites. He told me I’d have to leave. I issued a hard challenge.
I pointed to a nearby half-demolished grove. “Over there. Shirts off. Five minutes.”
Turns out Kites was as chickenshit as his profligate handle. Never showed up. And time moved forward.
Then, it was October. I was planting some bulbs in the aprons of dirt on either side of the fotomat. I take care of that which I am owed.
The interlopers pulled up in a fancy town car. One of them was the pretender king, Pondicherry himself.
He looked at the fotomat for awhile. Tried the door (I hinged one of the plywood cover-ups for easy access).
“The spirit of Lankville is resiliency,” he said. “From a small seed grows homes. This is nice, what you have here. I admire your frontier spirit.”
The Sanctuary (fotomat)
I couldn’t understand anything he was talking about. This was no frontier. It was merely the soil of the Eastern Lankville Suburbs. Born and bred, I am.
Pondicherry spoke again. “I’m afraid there are people, deep within our government, who disapprove of you living in this abandoned fotomat. I am not one of them. However, the people have spoken.” And that’s when he handed me my eviction papers.
“You can hand me these papers,” I said. “But you’ll have a fight on your hands. The Dunn’s are bound to this here earth. And we possess an implacable and bitter reserve of undefeat. I will fit you into a world that is smaller than the one in which you find yourself. It is my intent to summon the effluvium of hell.”
He looked dazed. Then he vomited. It was a grotesque farrago of candy and pancakes. His seconds whisked him away. The paper I buried. The men who wrote it– they shall one day emerge from a holocaust which will take all security from them. Slashes of light shall not penetrate the dull gloom of their wasted lives.
I continued planting bulbs. I acquired the frozen meats and seared them across an open flame.
It was December. I looked across the lot. A wild Outlander on a ladder, hanging glitzy decorations over the lamp poles.
I approached him.
“It is my intent to annex this part of the lot,” I told him. “You witness that homestead?” I pointed to the fotomat.
“What? You mean that old photo booth?” His tongue was of a lower-order. An inscrutable creature.
“Aye. It can no longer hold me. I intend to build.”
“…This is the mall’s property. The fuck you think you can build there?” Colorful whorish balls ringed in gold appeared from his box. Monstrous.
I spat and went back to the ancestral edifice.
Construction began this morning. Men ringed me as I worked. But I worked consistently through dinner. They know now.
The opinions of Carl Dunn are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
OPINION: The Perils of Lurking
By Otis Nixon
IMPORTANT OPINIONS
I am Otis Nixon. I am a lurker.
You have to admit it to yourself before you can get help. For decades, I didn’t admit it. I just went about my business as a regional salesman for the Grebov Brothers Telescope company, part-time tennis nets coach and devoted family man. But I had a dark secret.
At about eight o’clock in the evening, without fail, I would announce that I had some errand to run. It might be filling up the tires with “fresh air”, picking up some lettuce for salads, taking the trash to the dump. “Why don’t you just put it out by the curb?” my wife would ask. “Trash day is tomorrow.” “Nope!” I would say, happily. “I don’t want to inconvenience the municipal authorities!” And I would toss the breaking bags of refuse into the hatchback trunk of my Neptune.
But I wasn’t going to the air pump, the lettuce galleria or the dump.
I was going to lurk.
I lurked everywhere– in strange neighborhoods, in alleyways, in back of grim apartments above closed paint stores. I lurked in the woods. I lurked in tunnels. There was probably not a single place in all of Lankville that I did not lurk in.
The papers would run articles. CITIZENS REPORT LURKER, NEIGHBORHOOD FLUMMOXED BY LURKER, LURKER DISRUPTS CARNIVAL. And I read them all greedily. I saved them, I scrapbooked them. I hid the scrapbook in the hatchback trunk of my Neptune– later I was even brazen enough to keep it at work, in my desk drawer. Often, I left the desk drawer open for all to see (Grebov Brothers has an open floor plan). I was sick. Still, I lurked.
And who sang the dies irae for Otis Nixon the lurker? It was a rotund man in a pantsuit. I was lurking in his bushes, watching his wife through the picture window. She wasn’t doing anything, understand, just watching TV. Just sitting there on her orange sofa, mindlessly watching TV and loading tennis balls into cans. I lurked– I watched the cans accumulate on the coffee table. I admit to arousal. And then her husband brained me from behind and I don’t remember anything for awhile.
I woke up in the Southwest Regional Minor Hospital. I recognized Detective Gee-Temple right away. I had been running from him for years.
“Are you the lurker Otis?” he asked.
For awhile I couldn’t answer. He let it pass and then he asked again and this time I said the four words. “I am a lurker.”
“We’ll get you some help,” the detective responded. “There’s a group that meets in a gym.”
I’ve been meeting with that group in that gym for two years now. I could have lost everything but I didn’t. I kept my job, my family and my Neptune. I kept many of my nice suits. But I didn’t keep my scrapbook. I traded it for a return of my soul.
Though I consider myself reformed, I must still remember. I am a lurker. And I will always be.
OPINION: I’ve Been Punched While Buying Pumpkins Before, I’ll Be Punched While Buying Pumpkins Again
By Dick La Hoyt
SEASONAL OPINIONS
Yeah, this is a message for that sonovabitch down at the Little Lankville Pumpkin Corner last night. Guess what, shitheel? I’ve been punched while buying pumpkins before, I’ll be punched while buying pumpkins again.
Let me tell you about this retard. I’m just standing around the big giant cardboard container of pumpkins, minding my own business. I had a couple picked out by then, couple gourds in a basket too but it wasn’t no big deal. Anyways, this big d’bag comes prancing around the corner like he owns the god damn place. Just waltzes right up to my side of the giant cardboard container of pumpkins. I’m like WHOA BUDDY! THIS SIDE OF THE CARDBOARD CONTAINER OF PUMPKINS IS SPOKEN FOR! He backs off for a minute but later we get into it and one thing leads to another and the next thing I know, I’m flat on the gravel with the basket on one side of me and the gourds and pumpkins on the other. And big shit– he’s standing over me like he’s accomplished something that nobody in the god damn world has ever done.
Well, let’s set the record straight, boss.
I’ve been punched while buying pumpkins before, I’ll be punched while buying pumpkins again.
The opinions of Dick La Hoyt are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
I Want to Tell You SO MUCH About How My New Boyfriend Bought Me Some Candy
OH MY GOD– I just HAVE to tell you about how my new boyfriend bought me some candy!
So, last night, my new boyfriend came to the house right at dusk. It was SO CUTE– he didn’t knock on the door but, instead, he threw some little driveway pebbles at my window. It was just like the olden days!
I opened the window and he was like, “Ash, there’s a cave fire nearby. Let’s go watch!”
WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON.
We took a couple of blankets (it’s been getting chilly in the Deep Northern Suburbs lately) and watched the fire from a distant hill. There were like fifteen fire engines there and everything. In a way, it was really beautiful, even though I really, really felt sorry for that poor cave.
By Ashley Pfeiffers
After awhile, my new boyfriend started getting kind of restless. I was like, “what’s wrong?” and he kept saying, “nothing Ash, nothing. Just thinking about some stuff.”
Next thing I know, he pulls out a box of candy!
I JUST ABOUT DIED!
It had a red bow on top and everything. I started crying!
“These chocolates are, like, super exquisite Ash (he had already eaten a few) but none are as sweet as you,” he said.
My heart was beating a mile a minute! WE ARE SO IN LOVE.
“It’s too bad about that cave,” he said suddenly. I watched the faint crease lines appear on his forehead. “My peeps and I had some good idea sessions in there.”
“But anyway, let’s wolf some of these chocs, Ash.”
We ate a bunch of them and watched the firefighters. They were pulling something out with a chain.
“GOT A DEAD ONE HERE,” they said.
I started crying. My new boyfriend consoled me with some more chocolate. Then we kissed, sweet, chocolate kisses under the fading moonlight. He laid my head down on the blanket. That’s when he told me he loved me for the first time.
“GOOD LORD, GOT A BUNCH OF DEAD ONES IN HERE,” another firefighter called out.
He put his finger to my trembling lips. “Don’t think about that, Ash. Think about us. And the chocolates.”
I LOVE HIM SO.
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.
OPINION: You Can Spend a Whole Day at Three Pines Double-Tiered Strip Mall
By Tammy La Hoyt
IMPORTANT OPINIONS
Tammy Nails is only one of fifteen stores at the Three Pines Double-Tiered Strip Mall in the Deep Lankville Basin Area.
We also got a little religious bookstore, a place where they have newspapers and beer and some kind of place that has, I guess, those faucets for sinks. We also got a god damn place that dumps big barrels of shit off the back balcony (the Three Pines Double-Tiered Strip Mall is two stories). We’ve complained and all to the management but nothing’s been done yet. Somebody got no respect for anything.
The guy that has the religious bookstore is a sweet little old man named Mr. Pencils. He’s got all kinds of song books and manuals and all. I brought him some homemade egg salad once. He unwrapped the sandwich and stared at it for like ten minutes and then he said, “I’d like to decline this.” I was pretty hurt, I guess. I called him a son of a bitch and then I started crying. My eye makeup ran and all. We haven’t spoken since but I still wave to him. Sometimes he waves back.
You can spend a whole day at Three Pines Double-Tiered Strip Mall. You can come in and get your nails done at Tammy Nails and then you can walk over and do whatever it is that that guy that dumps shit all over the place does, and then you can buy some nice religious books for a female relative and all. And then you can get a new faucet. I get new faucets about once a year. My Dick always says, “Sure as shit, you can never go wrong with a new faucet.” He’s right.
There’s a cabinet place too, like cabinets for kitchens but they ain’t never opened. And there’s a pizza place but it’s always really cold in there and there ain’t any pizzas in the display cases. There’s a couple of guys that stand around dazed behind the counter. They got these white aprons on that are stained all kinds of strange colors.
As My Dick says, “Takes all god damn kinds, babe.”
OPINION: I’m Tony Pepperony and Yes I Fill Holes With Your Money
Mr. and Mrs. Tony Pepperony
IMPORTANT OPINIONS
This is a response to a recent prominent so-called “person-of-letters” who’s been leaving placards around Southern Left Lankville saying that “I’m just looking for someplace to put my hole in.”
Let’s get some things straight. Sure, I’m a businessman and I’m always looking for holes in the ground to dump my money in, especially when President Pondischerry [sic] is throwing the Casa Montecristo vouchers my way, but my enemies are always trying to smear me. People are always trying to get in my way of progress and it makes me sick enough to dig another hole in Southern Left Lankville and put some TP big bucks into it, but I won’t be deterred, and I won’t back down.
Lankville deserves better than these obstructionistas, mired in the status quo of dysfunction for so long and happy to watch our quality of life deteriorate, echelon by echelon. They don’t know down from up, or up from down back up again three ways from Tuesday.
About the Casa Montecristo vouchers, listen, the Casa Montecristo is as elegant of a reception hall as any in Lankville. When you order a tray of fetteroni, you know they’re gonna crisp it just right and they do it every time, because I’m Tony Pepperony, and they take care of the big guy.
The Montecristo had a problem a few years back, a hole opened up in the lot next door. It used to be drug store until the earth swallowed it. I filled that hole with sack after sack of money and steady supply of vouchers from Pondycherry [sic] redeemable next door at the Casa, and next thing you know the hole is filled and me and my groups filled to the belly with perfectly browned and crisp fetteroni. Also, their chaffing dishes keep the fetteroni and medallions at the perfect fiery temperature. It’s top notch.
Yes, the vouchers were paid for by Lankville community funds, but would you rather see a whole in the ground directly next to an elegant reception hall? I THINK NOT.
It’s called business, you morons! It’s called progress, you mental cases!
Let me tell you Ms. Person of Letters, you’re part of the problem and you need to get out of our way, because Lankville is coming for you. Because who dah fuck are you, Tony Pepperony? I THINK NOT.
On another note, look at that picture of my wife. Ain’t she a peach?
The opinions of Tony Pepperony are not necessarily the opinions of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
OPINION: Students Must Stop Defecating in Public
By Dave Scharlesberger
IMPORTANT OPINIONS
The road to the executive parking lot is paved in…?
What began as a harmless prank, something to chuckle about on one’s way to the office or hair salon or karate dojo, has now reached crisis proportions. That’s right: I’m talking about students “copping a squat” as it were on our streets, our sidewalks, and inside our malls and parking garages, at any time of day or night. These senseless acts of inappropriate evacuation cannot, and will not, stand.
The depth of the unfolding disaster struck me as I walked from Carmody Hall, where I work as an assistant vice president in the Lankville State Office of Financial Excellence. There, on the sidewalk that leads from the building to the executive parking lot, I was confronted with a veritable mine-field of greenish-brown human waste. Needless to say, I was forced to carefully tip-toe through this unwelcome obstacle course, one hand clutching my briefcase, the other holding my nose shut against the unspeakable stench.
By the time I reached my car, my patent leather Fleursheims were ruined.
Alternate view
My father gave me those shoes.
This unseemly epidemic is all the more incomprehensible given Lankville’s famous and generous array of public restroom facilities. The Mud Pits feature “his and her” bathrooms with hot and cold running water, no matter the season. There are the open-air stalls off Pondicherry Square – who among us hasn’t ducked into one of those in a pinch, while out on the town? Then, of course, Lankville boasts the award-winning Stacy Q. Pryzbylewski Memorial Water Closet on the third floor in the main branch of the Lankville Public Library, with its wide stalls, pleasing mosaic tile-work, and high-pressure flushing action.
But apparently it’s too much trouble for some of our students to walk up a flight of stairs before taking down their pants and defecating.
I know what you’ll tell me – not all students indulge in this nasty habit. That may be true, although I can’t help but cast a suspicious eye on the student workers who scurry around the Office of Financial Excellence, giggling at some obscure joke – perhaps giggling at me. After all, President Pondicherry’s plan to have a consortium of “responsible youths” take over the vending machines throughout Lankville (touted time and again by Presidential Spokesperson Sue Ely) has offered mixed results. And that’s putting it generously.
But I’ll save my thoughts on the sorry state of Lankville’s vending machines for another time. For now, I make the demand, from our offices, from our rooftops, on our streets and in the aisles of our theaters: No more. No more public defecating. Enough is enough.
OPINION: I’m Making that Good Toilet Money
By Suzy Sweetly-Services
I was reading hieroglyphics that were carved into a broom, out loud and to myself nonchalantly. The floor was filthy but nobody else was going to put the cakes in these urinals. There are just some things that some people aren’t willing to do in this life and that’s where I come in. I’m phenomenal and you know in your gut that it’s true. I suffered injuries on the job, most recently a bruise to the areola. Like everything else, you have to brush it off in order to focus on the bigger picture. Its coloration matched the scrapes on my neck anyway. I’m tougher than I look.
I’m making that good toilet money and everybody knows it. I stay up real late and get up real early and I go to work, like it’s nobody’s business – because it isn’t, nobody keeps these kind of hours. Except when they do. I was cleaning some thrones at the University, around 5AM, when two people walked out of a single stall, pale and wonky-eyed.
“I partied so hard last night,” said one to the other, exhausted.
Suzy’s making that good toilet money.
“Yeah, I can see that,” replied the friend looking back towards my fate soon to come.
They proceeded to head to the sinks, holding each other up, slinking slowly past me. I sighed; I moved closer. I gave myself a pep talk and thought of the aphorisms I once wrote on a mirror when I felt like I needed that sort of thing. I thought of my foggy breath creating condensation, my fingers gingerly creating truths across the glass…it was all very zen. I took one last breath and stepped inside. Death itself encapsulated me.
I looked upward and saw a couple of ancient mark-makings, they were crude yet beautiful. One was of a man holding a Reckoner high above his head while standing on a grassy hill. The other was of a four-eyed monster with large genitalia, from both sexes, staring into a handheld mirror – seemingly alarmed and aroused at what it saw, all at once. As I scrubbed the filth away, I continued to look upwards and make up little stories in my head.
Now, I’d love to share these tales with you but I’ve got twenty more stalls to clean.
Tissues N’ Tantrums,
Suzy
I Want to Tell You About How I Got Back Together with My New Boyfriend!
By Ashley Pfeiffers
I want to tell you about how I got back together with my new boyfriend!
I had been SO depressed after he broke up with me. I just kept going back and reading and re-reading all his texts, staring at the things we bought together at the mall, going to Pizza A-Round and just ordering a soda, hoping I’d see him. But weeks passed and nothing.
And then one night my phone buzzed. I had already turned out the lights and was just lying there on my fuzzy cat pillow when it happened. It was late, everyone in the house was asleep– I picked it up.
It said, “ash, can i see you.”
I wrote back right away and we met in the parking lot by the woods.
“The guys just left,” he said, looking down at the cracked asphalt. “We had some good ideas flowing tonight.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about but he looked SO CUTE.
“Ash, I made a big mistake, you know. It’s you and me, Ash. I got you something.”
He produced a plastic bag that he had hidden in some weeds. It was a fuzzy cat pillow from the mall– the same fuzzy cat pillow that I had JUST had my head on! I ALMOST DIED.
“I already have this one but I love it,” I said. “It’s part of a series.”
“Oh, I’ll take it back, I can get another one in the series,” he said. He started to reach for the bag.
“NO!” I said. “This…is really special.” I felt like I was going to faint.
He hugged me and then we kissed passionately.
“That kiss was like when the planets come out, Ash,” he said. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about but it was SO SPECIAL!
WE ARE SO IN LOVE!
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!
ACCOMMODATIONS
When staying in the Area Beyond the Outlands, pick the Murray. Friendly, creative staff, delightful beds, curtains. Phone Far Outlands 5-6712.
ADULT ADVERTISEMENT
Use your new Intermission TV Typewriter to communicate with hot women! Women are lying around, all over Lankville, just waiting for someone to type something on their TV's. It could be you. Available at your neighborhood electronics retailer.
ADVERTISEMENT
Vitiello Decorative Hams "Fall Batch" now available. Home inspection required. Leaves considerably extra. Call East Lankville 3298 or 4151.
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
Compliance with subsection: 16.61(2), Lankville statutes.
CHAMBERS CO. HAND DRILLS: When Electricity is Not an Option
When electricity is not an option on your next job, consider a Chambers Company hand drill. With 3/8" chuck and gun-metal finish, the steel casing of the drill is thick and sturdy for durability and will come in handy for light construction, carpentry and also for DRILLING HOLES IN FENCES TO SEE TITS
EMPLOYMENT
Big Ed's Barbeque. Waitress needed, someone who doesn't nose around and ask a lot of questions. Call Hole 9913.
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 FRENCH TOAST
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.
MEAT FRENZY
Call Kelly (male): 5-2614
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