Archive
Frater-Xerxes (Ric Royer) Collapses Near Mall Fountain
By Bernie Keebler
Senior Staff Writer
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS! YES!
Frater-Xerxes (formerly Ric Royer) collapsed this morning near an inoperable fountain at Twin Removed Pines Mall in downtown Lankville, sources are confirming. The Frater is currently in an undisclosed location.
The fountain at Twin Removed Pines Mall in its heyday.
The Frater’s mall retail space house has remained closed to reporters.
“He’s had some sort of problem with this fountain for quite some time,” noted mall CEO Scott Kites. “We’ve had some trouble getting it to work, actually because of something that Mr. Royer [Frater-Xerxes] did. He had an Easter basket filled with rolled pennies and he spent the whole day dropping them into the fountain from the second floor. I think it clogged up the apparatus.”
“I think Mr. Royer [Frater-Xerxes] feels that we should have had it working by now,” added Kites, who has been trying to remove the eccentric Lankville business magnate from the retail space for several months.
“He doesn’t sell anything. He lives there. He puts up lurid curtains. He dumps excessive amounts of pennies into the fountains. It needs to stop,” Kites stated.
The Frater’s current condition is unknown.
“He has this big, extremely velvety robe that he wears every morning. It’s got a gold fleur-de-lis on it– sometimes he wears a crown but he didn’t have that on today,” noted a custodian who refused to be identified and was later found murdered. “He just stood by the fountain for a long time and you could see that he was getting lightheaded and then he just collapsed. That was it.”
“We finished up our cinnamon loaf slabs and then called for help,” the custodian added.
Further updates on the Frater’s condition are expected later today.
A Review of New Soft Toys for Girls
By Ida Rumpus
The summer soft toy season is upon us and Lankville-area retailers have seen an onslaught of new products. “We’ve been privy to a panoply of soft toys for girls arriving pretty much daily,” noted Dick Splace, owner of The Toy Recovery Bargain Center in Eastern Lankville. “Sometimes, the trucks just back right into our loading bay in a sort of haphazard manner and just drop all the toys unpacked in a sort of sudden confusing eruption; a sort of salvo of soft toys,” added Splace. “We have been very busy cleaning up these unregulated blasts of toy shots that just end up all over the parking lot and…in the grass…” Splace suddenly became very hysterical and had to be led away.
Let’s have a look now at some of this summer’s best offerings.
CUDDLY PLAYTHINGS
“The Panda Creep” by Cuddly Playthings
The Cuddly Playthings Company is based in Northern Lankville and operates a 265-acre factory and warehouse producing 750,000 items daily. “I’d say our best new offering is “The Panda Creep,” noted Founder and CEO Kevin Pans. “Have a look at the strange expression on his face. Might be friendly, might be sort of apathetic and then again, might be an absolute creep. Who knows? I don’t.” “The idea behind the Panda Creep is mystery,” noted its creator Jenny Wockenfuss. “You really can’t be sure what you’re getting. Each expression is exactly identical. I think it’s a good life lesson and parents seem to agree.” Indeed they do, as the Panda Creep has sold over 100,000 units in its first month alone. “Ours ended up being a creep,” said a local mother who asked to remain anonymous. “And then the second one we bought ended up being a creep too. But the third one has been a real sweetheart and my daughter loves him. It’s definitely her favorite toy of the year!”
SCHOENFELD HOUSE
The Large-Eyed Stuffed Owl by Schoenfeld House
The Schoenfeld House is one of Lankville’s oldest soft girl toy manufacturers, founded in 1897. “Our original office was old Mr. Schoenfeld’s house in Southern Lankville,” stated CEO Barry Barrasso, aged 45. “He made senseless wooden toys until 1899, then he switched over to soft and we’ve been riding that wave ever since.” The Schoenfeld House now exclusively produces and markets large-eyed soft owls. “Definitely a niche market but a good one,” Barrasso noted, after taking a short break to eat from a sopping, over-sauced container of ethnic food. “You won’t find another maker of large-eyed soft owls in Lankville or anywhere else for that matter,” added Barrasso, who pushed a packet of papers in our direction for reasons unclear.
Gino Orr is the large-eyed soft owl’s current designer. “I started out drawing owls on placemats which are a sort of laminated, rectangular flat object that you can place before you when you eat and which sort of absorbs a lot of the gobbing,” Orr informed. “I think that Mr. Barrass [sic] saw my drawings and liked them and we met at a motel and really hashed out the whole idea of a more modern design for the large-eyed owl– a design that would be more updated for the current century. So, that’s what you’re seeing today.”
The large-eyed soft owl has sold 45,000 units in May and June alone.
WORLDS OF ROYER
The “Fire Cat” by Worlds of Royer
Even oft-incarcerated Lankville business magnate and sports team owner Ric Royer has cast his lot in with the girls soft toy craze this season, creating the “Worlds of Royer” company, a subsidiary of his many other endeavors. Royer, who was interviewed in his shuttered mall retail space/home, outlined his headliner soft toy for the summer season.
“It’s called “The Fire Cat”.” Royer screamed and then paused to allow us to take everything in. “Look at it over there on my shelf. It has its head tilted in that loving, deliciously cute manner but it’s also capable of existing easily, even flourishing within the terrible subterranean confines of Hell.”
Royer displayed “The Fire Cat’s” accessories, sold separately.
“You can buy a little soft food dish, a water bowl or these gigantic soft fires that represent the hideous conflagrations of Hell.” Indeed, the plush fires come in sizes of five to ten feet. “They should be mammoth,” Royer added. “As vast and colossal as the raging flames of Hell. But my advisers mentioned that it would be difficult to sell twenty or thirty foot tall stuffed flames. So we made them more to scale.”
Royer, who suddenly became frightened of the stuffed flames and the Fire Cat, let roar an unstoppable scream and the interview had to be ended prematurely.
The “Fire Cat” has sold 22,000 units since late April.
With all these fantastic new soft girl toys for summer, we can only wait with baited breath for what Lankville’s toy concerns will be offering in the Fall.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Weird O’It
By Ric Royer
There was a water fountain adjacent to the women’s lavatory– I liked to hang out there. I would take a gigantic water bottle and pretend to fill it but really I’d be waiting for someone to go in there so I could peep. There wasn’t much to see really, just a tiled wall and occasionally the sound of the paper towel dispenser, but I’d get wood anyway. And I would leer at the women as they came out.
One day, a redhead with swinging hips and a round gorgeous rump, waltzed in there and I just about followed her in. I could hear the sound of water running just as the door swung shut. And then, for the longest time, there was nothing.
A half-hour passed. I began to wonder what had happened to this redhead. I gently pushed open the door.
And I was face to face with the Weird O’It.
He was a gigantic green lumpen creature whose enormous height carried him all the way to the ceiling. He had a gaping, stretched mouth with one sharp brown tooth exposed– drool fell to the floor from this abominable orifice. His eyes were rolling, almost spinning in his slimy head and the smell was ungodly.
“Your peeping is very obvious to all those concerned,” he said suddenly in a clear, crisp, intelligent voice. Two arms appeared from the lump and wiped the drool clear to the wall.
“What happened to the redhead?” was all I could manage in response.
“We spoke for awhile– I explained my worldview, my take on things and she explained hers. There was a long moment of awkwardness and then she agreed that my opinion was within reason.”
“And then what?”
“She bared her ass for me.” The Weird O’It’s eyes suddenly stopped spinning and then began again. “It was great, man. Really great. Then, unfortunately, she expired. Everyone who views the Weird O’It dies. I am not from your dimension.”
That night, sleep would not come. I had no idea when or how I would die but the Weird O’It had convinced me of my ultimate demise. If only I had not peeped, had not lurked outside that lavatory, I thought. I would have survived. I would sleep a peaceful sleep.
But weeks passed and I felt no different. And then I saw the Weird O’It again.
I was crossing the street and he pulled up in a small rusted Island pickup. The cab could barely contain him– indeed, parts of his body spilled out the sides and oozed downwards towards the road. He waved and I walked over and leaned on the hood. He had the radio turned up real loud. The song Pirates Money was playing. It was a big hit.
“I’m not dead!” I announced gleefully. “What do you think of that?”
“Oh that,” he said, after a moment of confusion. He hadn’t remembered. “That was all horseshit. I just wanted you to stop peeping, that’s all. Nah, you can look at me all you want.”
The light turned green and he sped off.
And that was the last I heard of the Weird O’It.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Political Scientist
By Ric Royer
The first time I spotted the political scientist was at a conference on Immigrant Identity in Outer Lankville that I snuck into for the free meats. She gave a short speech and I was immediately transfixed by her huge, cat-like eyes, her supple, slightly bronzed skin, and her ever-so-slightly aged but still voluptuous figure hidden only by a mere chemise of the finest fabrics.
Later, I approached her. She was surrounded by a gaggle of fading academics and I slowly but meticulously shoved each one out of the way until it was just us.
She parted her lips and looked at me over her glass as she took a slow drink of soda. She was wearing a pin in her lapel that depicted a bear playing with balloons.
“Do you like my pin?” she said, noticing.
“I don’t understand it,” I said, truthfully. “I didn’t understand your speech either. But, then again, I wasn’t listening.”
“Oh? Why not?” There was something slightly scholastic about the question.
“Because I don’t give a shit about Immigrant Identity in Outer Lankville. What I care about is pressing up against your back as I slowly unbutton that chemise, cupping your breasts as the shirt falls away, kissing the bra straps off your shoulders and then finding your secret crevice and…”
“And…then what?” she asked. She was practically melting against the wall.
“Well, then I would bang you, you little squirrel.”
She dropped her glass of soda and it stained the orange carpet.
We got a hotel room near a Burger Duke. I found the nearness of the two structures a miracle but the political scientist didn’t seem impressed. “Why don’t you take me to a nice country inn?” she suggested. I ignored her.
And then moments later I had her.
Afterwards, I cracked a window.
“You’re not like my husband,” she commented. “He has a Ph.D in Economics.”
“Fuck that shit.”
“You’re so…so coarse,” she said.
“The only economics you need to worry about is how much it’s gonna’ cost to dry clean that suit of yours.”
“That doesn’t really make any sense,” she said, a flummoxed look crossing her face.
“Skip it.”
Later, we had burgers. I got us a booth in the back.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Mountain Beacons
By Ric Royer
Ric Royer has elected to add the nickname “Tabs” to this story. The meaning is unclear
For several months, I lived alone on the summit of a desolate, treacherous mountain chain in the deepest wilds of Roi Hardy. It was a three-day hike and climb from civilization and my only contact with the outside world was via a series of log beacons set up on various far away summits and set ablaze to impart emergency information. It was unlikely that I would ever need these beacons but I was careful to organize such a system anyway and I paid a small aggregation of Roi Hardy hill people to monitor the news with the instructions that the beacons be lit only under the more urgent of circumstances.
I sat alone in my cabin for these many months, going out only in the morning to gaze off at the nearest summit in search of the fire. I cooked rabbits, built wooden boats on a table and wrote terrible sonnets to my lost checkers grandmaster, who had abandoned me after a week-long session of stringent motel coitus.
I became bored. The cabin had a second floor with two small bedrooms, one of which was locked– an overstuffed pink chair had been placed before it. I became curious about this locked room and went about the business of pushing the overstuffed pink chair out of the way and kicking in the door, an ordeal that took two full days.
The windows of the room were covered in heavy green drapes– very little light penetrated. It was empty, save for a large pile of dark items that had been placed in one corner and reached near to the ceiling. It was hard to discern the nature of this pile at first but once I pushed aside the drapes (an ordeal that took another full day), I was able to recognize the heap for what it was– a series of factory-boxed video game systems of vintage age.
It was the “Cucumbrix 2000”– I remembered it well. Introduced with much fanfare, it ended a terrible failure– the creator had shot himself in the face after losing millions. I removed a console– it was sleek and white, had two streamlined controllers and an ashtray built into its face. There was an enormous insensate instruction guide and a pile of pink forms that flaked away in my hands.
In another corner, I suddenly noticed an older model television set and I decided to hook up the Cucumbrix and give it a spin. It blinked and sputtered but then flashed on and I removed the complimentary cartridge from its plastic casing. It was called Turtles! and it too came with an instruction booklet with screen shots, tips from the creator and a series of patches for the Turtles! club.
I began then, as the sky faded into twilight, to play Turtles! with an interest that became an obsession and I failed to notice out the window that the beacon had been lit. I know now the exact time that the flames would have risen out of the mountains, signifying mankind’s terminus, the time of the end, 4:05 LST. I know now because later I would locate the diary of the nearest Roi Hardy hill person and the dead embers of his beacon, his last act. Ironic, then, that my being distracted by Turtles! saved my own existence.
For when I alighted upon Roi Hardy weeks later, I alighted upon the dead and the broken and a barren wasteland.
Eldritch Canisters Have Been Haunting Royer
By Joel Tweez Resort Correspondent
A series of eldritch canisters have been haunting business magnate and Lankville Daily News correspondent Ric Royer for many months now, the executive is confirming.
“The canisters appear at twilight, often in the garden,” said Royer during a morning interview on some boats. “Then, when I finally give in to repose about midnight, the canisters begin their infernal rolling, back and forth down my driveway. It goes on all night. And with this noise, comes an ungodly howl.”
Royer has alerted authorities but to no avail.
Typical canisters. These canisters are not haunted but are merely shown for illustrative purposes.
“Some cops came but they just ended up ogling my East-Island neighbor. Admittedly, she has fine tits for an East Islander.”
Royer even hired a security guard to man the driveway of his resort home in hopes of preventing the canisters from gaining access to the yard. The guard was found the next morning with a frozen look of terror on his expired face.
“I may have to abandon the mansion temporarily and move back to the mall,” admitted the eccentric tycoon.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: It Was Orange…and Emitted Vapors!
By Ric Royer
When I first saw the Thing, it was throwing a car into a ravine. It stood as tall as a large building, its center completely amorphous. It emitted an eerie yellow vapor and it appeared to have the strength of something superhuman– indeed, when it was done with the car-hurling it moved to a nearby train trestle and crushed it easily with its fist.
This girl I was seeing and occasionally having boring intercourse with, let out a loud scream. LOOK AT THAT HORRIBLE THING! LOOK AT IT! I laughed and stared her down. There was an old clamshell bucket that someone had left to rust by a barn. “Go sit in that,” I told her. She did as I said.
The next thing was to figure out how to bring the orange beast down. A piece of paper blew against my shin. I picked it up– would it yield a clue to the mystery of the terrible monster? And I read: “it also has 2 fish crates with fish in them! Just add a delivery figure and you have a great delivery scene…” I tore it apart in frustration. And then the beast was upon me.
Artist’s rendering
Later, I would realize how lucky I was. If not for that senseless hole, I would certainly have perished. I climbed in and waited until the monster had satiated his mad, violent desires by destroying a series of nearby homes. Then he went away, I think. I don’t care really.
After that, I traveled into the Lankville back country– an area called “the Forest Quarter”. There were a series of fallen towns that had been destroyed during the Depths War; bereft stone walls and a series of windowless parish houses were all that remained. I stopped at a graveyard– the stones had mostly been lifted and replaced with little advertising placards. Still, I was able to locate several relatives. I didn’t know or remember any of them and yet, it was calming to stand there, reading my last name again and again.
I was suddenly hungry. Although nothing lived in this ancestral town, I managed to find a Pappy’s Chicken on the outskirts. I ordered a bucket. The guy behind the counter asked about the orange monster.
“You don’t wanna’ know about that fucking shit,” I said, allowing the chicken grease to run down my chin. “You’re better off right here. That thing is a nightmare.”
I ordered some fries.
“Just regular fries?” the guy asked.
“Yep. Fix ’em up in bacon fat, would you?”
“I can do that. We don’t have napkins, I’ll warn you now. But there’s a little pond out back.”
“Yeah, fine.”
The guy put on a little TV. Nothing came in from the cities.
I finished off the chicken and then went to the pond. Night came.
Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Gazebo Kit
By Ric Royer
File Photo
I didn’t have a basement but felt that the gazebo kit required one. A well-lit clean tool bench where I could spread my paints out, a steel stool, an old radio with calm, easy-listening trumpets and a triple-layered serving plate stuffed with various cakes to the extent that the cakes had become more horrific than desirable. I had to make that happen.
I cased an appropriate house. The owner carried a lunchpail and wore overalls. I knew his basement would be suitable.
Traditional gazebo kit.
I blew the door off with some low-grade explosives and carefully took the gazebo kit into the basement. It was perfect.
I sat my paints and the kit on the well-tended bench. The pink bakelite radio immediately issued forth the low, soothing music I had hoped for; I could hear frogs from somewhere even though it was winter.
I opened the box. The gazebo was thoroughly researched and finely-crafted and I immediately admired the highly-detailed white metal castings. Here, before me, was an old-fashioned gazebo with a dome roof, latticed side railings and benches. I thought of finely-clad 19th-century Lankville women (perhaps with tits), listening to the music issuing forth from the bandstand as they sipped lemonade on this very structure.
Something happened then. My hand began to shake violently and I smeared brown paint all over the roof– brown paint that had suddenly become thick and viscous and could not be removed. I cursed and then, as I attempted to save the gazebo, I pressed too hard on the supporting beams and the entire structure was destroyed in my hands.
I was temporarily blinded. Then, I saw only a screaming skull encircled by fire. I knew that someone would have to die for this, that real structures would have to be destroyed.
I went upstairs to the kitchen and found some hams and a big can of candy. Then I set off the remaining low-grade explosives. I watched the conflagration from across the street.
The only thing I cared about had been doubly destroyed.
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
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LETTER SACK