Free Publicity

A special thanks to Joe Bob Jugglin for his guest editorial in the Journalistic Error. His free publicity is very much appreciated...

Woman Saved by Blow Up Doll

Sex toy acts as floatation device to drowning woman

When Rita Millingham ended a seven year relationship with Rich Sadler a month ago, she cited reasons typical of most women who break up with their boyfriends. There was no chemistry in their love life. They often argued about in-laws and money. She wanted kids; he was happy with a dog. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when Rita found Rich’s stash of porn beneath the floorboards under the dinner table. “Right under where I fed him dinner, a dinner, I might add, that I slaved over and served every night promptly at seven, he had hidden magazines full of naked women with bigger boobs than me,” recounts Rita.

Only after this discovery, all hell broke loose, and according to Rich, “She freaked out on me. All of a sudden, she’s got these gunked up pages pressed up to her nose and she’s accusing me of having an affair with Miss Nude November even though Miss Nude November has nothing on Miss Anal August. Next thing I know, Rita’s digging through my closet upstairs, pitching my belongings into the front yard. She even tossed Cassandra out the window.”


Cassandra, it was discovered after much probing, is Rich’s blow up doll, and though she was deflated at the time and unharmed in the second story fall, Rich immediately stormed out of the house to check on her safety. “Rita slammed the door in my face,” he told us. “I tucked Cassandra under my arm and was going to boat across the lake until I realized my boat keys were in my overalls still in the bedroom. So I dropped Cassie off in the boat and headed back to the house. Rita was angrier than a hornet with a crooked stinger when I came through the door. She ended up chasing me to my pickup with the iron skillet I bought her last year for her birthday. So I drove to a hotel instead.”

With no other mode of transportation, the next morning Rita packed up her belongings in six heavily crammed suitcases and hauled them into Rich’s 12 foot fishing boat. She’d plucked the boat keys from Rich’s smelly overalls and started on her way to a new life. Little did she know that her inflatable enemy was tucked away in the bow of the boat.

“I was halfway across the lake when I noticed the boat slowing down,” she told us. “I figured that my tightwad ex-boyfriend didn’t put enough gas in the tank. But it turns out all my suitcases were sinking the boat.”

Not knowing how to swim, Rita panicked and started tossing her belongings overboard, but shifting so much weight at once caused the boat to topple and the currently single Rita was soon sinking in her ex-boyfriend‘s favorite fishing spot.

“I thought I was going to die,” she says, choking up. “I saw the boat completely disappear and my luggage floating around me, but couldn’t grab onto any of it. The only thing I could grasp was Rich’s blow up doll, who knows where that came from. While I flapped my arms and legs frantically, trying not to drown, I blew her up. She’s actually very pretty in a synthetic sort of way.”

When a helicopter rescue crew arrived at the scene, they found a very irate Rita, in the middle of the lake with her arms around Cassandra. “Come quick, She’s losing air! Bring lubricant!” the distressed Rita was screaming.

“Our best guess is that a fishing lure penetrated the love doll,” reports Pilot Charles Knox, the superior officer at the scene. “I sent down my fittest private to help the woman in need and approximately 17 minutes later, he was being pulled into the copter with a flaccid woman under one arm and Ms. Millingham under the other.”

Upon further inspection, Rita Millingham seemed to be quite exhausted but uninjured.

She has since patched things up with Rich Sadler, who’s patched up things with Cassandra as well. The two are scheduled to marry next spring.

“Cassandra saved my life,” admits the future Mrs. Sadler. “To show my gratitude, I’ve asked her to be my maid of honor.”

Rich can only beam with joy, “The honeymoon’s gonna be a blast!”

Potent and Impotent

News from Broken Springs has recently reached a milestone. We’ve been online for less than two years (which is less than half the time our previous publication was online) and we’ve had over 10,000 hits (which is more than ten times what our previous publication had). About this time, coincidently, the last of the “Three Stooges” who once threatened to sue us merely for exercising our first amendment rights (and threatened to arrest us over our last publication) has jumped off the Broken Springs sinking ship. Chief Kingston has agreed to resign. Our fair town is going through some massive changes and I don’t just mean the streets.

We at NFBS believe these changes are generally for the better. Perhaps not for the better of this publication because we’re like a tabloid without celebrities now. But for the future of BS, we’re willing to take one for the team. Good riddance, three stooges. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.

Oh, that’s not to say that local stories are a thing of the past. There will always be that silly Broken Springs Village Council making those silly decisions that affect all of our lives. The Village People (as we like to call them around the office water cooler) are consistently stepping on the rake of satire. Thank Heavens. And of course, our satirical fingers are always able to find a target in that quack we have for a President.

Now, to celebrate the passing of Chief Kingston’s tenure as Police Thief, here is a nice racist joke he’d love…

I had a bunch of Canadian dollars I needed to exchange, so I went to the currency exchange window at the local bank. Short line. Just one lady in front of me, an Asian lady who was trying to exchange yen for dollars and she was a little irritated.

She asked the teller, "Why it change?? Yesterday, I get two hunat dolla fo same yen. Today I get hunat eighty?? Why it change?"

The teller shrugged his shoulders and said, "Fluctuations."

The Asian lady says, "Fluc you white people, too!"

Questions Arise over Office Photos

When Peter Jetson began his presentation about the disarray of the Broken Springs Police Department to the Onoyoko Township Board, he showed a slideshow of pictures taken in the station, including a photo of Chief Kingston's office. But the photograph, which shows a disaster area of papers, condom wrappers, and empty liquor bottles, has come under controversy from those who support the embattled Police Chief.

“The pictures are fake,” insists Peggy Boredom. “I’ve seen the same pictures in the newspapers after the tornadoes ripped through Kansas.”

In addition to the office photo, Jetson also made public a photo of the department’s refrigerator sometimes used as an evidence locker.

“I think they’re photoshopped,” says Lonna Lee Longjohns. “In this day and age it’s not hard to superimpose moldy sandwiches in the evidence fridge. And we can’t necessarily assume that those Corona bottles aren’t evidence in some ongoing investigation.”

“At the very least, that beer is aiding in a current investigation,” added FOJ for Life, Gordo Davis.

Chief Kingston, who’s been busy recovering from an undisclosed illness since March, could not be reached for comment. Sources tell us he goes in for rehab twice a week to the Blue Ship Casino, but the nature of his rehabilitation is unknown.

Officer Mort Allgay, who’s been busy cleaning up the office since both Kingston and Lt. Roy Smegley jumped ship, has recently received a $4.00 an hour raise. “Either we could give him a raise or hire one of the illegal aliens I have working at Hildecrust Holes,” explained Chairperson Ernie Hildecrust, who also added that Jim Kingston’s 31 years of service have been appreciated by both the community and the board. But he was quick to add, “In retrospect, I wish we would’ve gotten him a maid instead of a new car.”

Happy Mother's Day

And now a dedication to our favorite Police Chief

Village Council Appoints Corpse

In an announcement to the press, Village Council President Bob Pezdispenser has verified that the Council has decided on its new appointee to fill the formally vacant position. John Alldead of Daisy Hill Road, was unanimously selected out of a slate of candidates in a top secret meeting held in the President‘s top secret treehouse. Mr. Alldead’s appointment is controversial in the community since the news broke that he’s been dead since 1993.

“Nowhere in the village statutes does it say appointees must be alive,” insisted Pezdispenser in an interview with News from Broken Springs by phone. “And even if it did, John was alive when he served on the council in years past. That’s good enough for us.”

Alldead’s deceasedness didn’t bother anyone else on the Council either. Trustee Stan Chaddwick told us that being a politician in Broken Springs is a lot like being dead already. “Let’s face it,” he said, “If you had a life, you wouldn’t be living in Broken Springs, would you?”

Other Council members remain optimistic about Alldead’s future tenure as Trustee. Curly Headed Sandy, who is just learning to speak without regurgitating the standard Chaddwickian party line, told us that Alldead’s silence will be a refreshing at the meetings. “So far he hasn’t said a word in any of our interviews and that can only mean one thing. He agrees with everything we say. He has to be the least confrontational man alive… er, I mean dead.”

Alldead’s family and friends are proud of their relative's achievements. His wife was tearful when she told us that even when he was being lowered six feet into the ground, she knew her husband was not done making a difference in Broken Springs. His teenage sons are also grateful to the dead man they call dad. “He can’t throw the football around like he used to,” said son Ryan, 16, “In fact, he can’t even catch it anymore. It just bounces off him. But everyone tells me he’ll make a fine village politician.”

Citizen and local troublemaker, Bruce Robertson, told us in an off the record interview that Alldead had not even applied for the job of Village Trustee. He insists that Alldead was hand picked by the Council in an effort to snub all the other candidates.

“Total rubbish!” Pezdispenser responded. “There were no other candidates. No one in their right mind wanted the job. That’s why we had to pick a dead guy.”

According to the many sources we‘ve spoken with, they could not have dug up a better man.

PD a Disorganized Pigsty

Peter Jetson delivered a stinging address to the Onoyoko Township Board and about half of Broken Springs Thursday night. In it, he equated the Broken Springs Police Department with the Hindenburg, on a path with disaster and full of hot air. Largely to blame for this bleak future is locally beloved Police Chief Jim Kingston who, due to an emergency situation at the Blue Ship casino, could not attend the meeting. Sources tell us a slot machine had taken Kingston’s wallet hostage. There has been no word on whether or not the situation was resolved.

In his critique of the department, which lasted two months, three days, and fourteen hours (but who’s counting?) Jetson showed slides of the area formally known as Jim Kingston’s office. But seeing how Jim’s been off duty for over a month (actually, two months, three days and fourteen hours, but who’s counting?) what used to be a desk is now nothing more than a six foot tall heap of unanswered administrative data. Kingston defenders insist that somewhere in that pile there exists a policy manual. Kingston Kritics are adamant in insisting that the only thing under the pile of papers are more unaccounted for Taser donations. Either way, Jetson’s point was clear. Jim Kingston is a disorganized buffoon.

But is sloppiness such a mortal sin? Jetson implied that Kingston’s disorganized clutter is only a symptom of a much larger problem, that of being a spoiled brat who gets anything he wants from his bosses.

“He’s taken advantage of the commission’s willingness to give him a blank check. He’s got everything he ever wanted, from new cars to vacation back pay, even his own handicapped parking spot at the Village Hall.”

Another issue Jetson took issue with is all of the weaponry and spare uniforms in the evidence room. “We could clothe and arm a Broken Springs militia with all the uniforms and weapons we have. In fact, maybe we ought to. They’d do better than this department.”

Jetson went on to clarify that he wasn’t finding fault with any of the lower ranked officers, as they were often just trying to make lemonade about of old, rotten lemons. But the fault, he said, lies with the Chief himself and the oversight committees whose job it was to keep a leash on the out of control chief.

Such a lack of leadership has in fact “broken” Broken Springs, according to the high paid self proclaimed expert. He emphasized a need to heal the schism and mend our Springs back together.

“The first thing we have to do is bury the Sewer Wars,” he said, referring to the decades old community conflict over how to rid itself of its own feces. “Then we have to have party… a Hatfield-McCoy family reunion, if you will. There should be lots of booze, a pool, and naked Twister. That oughta mend some fences.”

“Lastly,” Jetson suggested, “I think we ought to donate those old uniforms and weapons to a faraway Goodwill. The fewer weapons we have in this volatile community, the safer we’ll all be.”

The Board thanked Jetson for his hard work.

Please Sign Petition

To: Onoyoko Charter Township

We, the undersigned, fully support and adore the local home town boy made good, now adult, Police Chief of Broken Springs, James Earl Kingston. By signing this petition, we sell our souls to this man, who protects us from the dangerous thugs and unruly teenagers of the tiny metropolis of Broken Springs, Michigan, otherwise known as Little Chicago.

This is an attempt to thwart those buttinskies who have nothing better to do than dig up dirt on this fine man. We fine citizens of Broken Springs don't care if he's potentially broken the law he's sworn to uphold. He IS the law. And he mows a lot of yards for those unable to keep their grass trimmed. He also picks up litter. And he smiles and waves at those people he likes all the time.

Get well soon, Jim. We miss you.

Sincerely,

The Undersigned

PLEASE SIGN THE PETITION.

Or view the current signatures before adding your own.

Kingston a Hero, not a sub sandwich

Dear Editor,

I am writing because I agree with everything Lonna Lee Longjohns wrote on April 4th. Not only do I agree with her every word, I also agree with her every syllable down to her very last consonant, especially when she expressed the lovely sentiment about our current police board, which was (to remind those of you not taking your daily gingko tablet) : Shoot ‘em all !

It’s a shame that the police board should actually police the police chief. As if he’s not being policed enough by the local dirt diggers, not to mention the very expensive big town police consultant they recently hired (at our expense) to evaluate departmental procedures, the board insists on stabbing Kingston in the back with underhanded tactics like granting the poor man never-ending leaves of absence on account of his medical problems. Showing their true colors, these sly devils on the police board have even insisted on paying him during this time off, as if to imply that he already gets paid for doing next to nothing, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Police Chief Jim Kingston has always been a Hero, and I don’t mean a sub sandwich (although he’d make a very good one of those as well… turkey** on rye with a delicious slice of goats head cheese… I’m salivating just thinking about it). He shouldn’t be eaten alive by his critics. Rather, he should be nibbled on and savored for the hero he is, not to mention for his mouth watering sesame seed buns.

We thank you, Jim, for being you. Always remember you’re a hero to the majority of the town, and those who don’t think so don’t know which side their bread is buttered on. To the rest of us, you’re a footlong with extra mayo.

Carol Growackier

**NFBS thinks the author meant chicken.

Happy Bunny Day

Police Board is a big pain in the snatch

Editor,

When is the Broken Springs Police Board going to stop this whole oversight nonsense going on? People are trying to harass and destroy the good Jim Kingston over nothing but legal technicalities.

What Jim has endured because of this unnecessary supervision is more human than human. I’ll tell you what he should do. He should hire an attorney to write up letters threatening lawsuit to these troublemakers. And then he should sue the Police Board too, for doing their jobs. That’ll teach them. I don’t even believe in suing people but for these anti-Kingston folks, I do.

The police board needs to go, especially that leader who I won’t even dignify by saying his name. He’s so done I’d like to stick a fork in him. The rest of the board are all yesmen and yes women because if they won’t be, they’ll be treated badly by that Supervisor I dare not mention by name. They should all take a long walk off a short pier.

Hang in their Jim, whatever you decide. The board may not back you, but we fools in the community do.

Sincerely,
Lonna “Longjohns” Jackson

Potent and Impotent

Boy, they’re dropping like flies in Broken Springs, aren’t they?

First Broken Springs’s Finest, Daniel Shame ups and leaves us to take another job (probably where they have tasers). Broken Springs won’t be Broken Springs without him. Then the Mayor resigns, leaving a big seat to fill in Village government. A huge seat. And soon Slaters Supermarket will be Fartings Friendly Market. Is nothing in Broken Springs sacred anymore?

I could see the writing on the wall in the case of Slaters. I first suspected they were in financial trouble when they started getting their shopping carts repossessed. But I guess the day had to come when they finally went under. They overpriced themselves right out of town. I’m one of the few born and raised BSer who never worked at Slaters. I’m neither boasting nor bitching. Just commenting.

All I can say is here at NFBS we sincerely hope Jim Kingston is well on his way to a speedy recovery. If not, our blogging days might be over completely.

Seriously though, Roy Smegley is not nearly the colorful figure that Jim Kingston is. And whoever replaces Jan Chaddwick won’t hold a candle to the headline making ability she had.

As Dylan once said, times… they are a-changin'. Will it be for the better or worse? Only time will tell. And Jagger said that time is on my side (yes it is) so I’m optimistic. And as Jerry Garcia once said, we might be going to Hell in a bucket but at least we’re enjoying the ride…

Private citizen Chaddwick’s parting words were so inspirational, it reminded me of this joke:

An old lady dies and goes to heaven. She's chatting it up with St. Peter
at the Pearly Gates when all of a sudden she hears the most awful
bloodcurdling screams. "Don't worry about that," says St. Peter. "It's
only someone having the holes put into her shoulder blades for wings."
The old lady looks a little uncomfortable but carries on with the
conversation. Ten minutes later, there are more blood curdling screams

"Oh my God," says the old lady, "now what’s happening?"

"Not to worry," says St. Peter, "She's just having her head drilled to fit the halo."

"I can't do this," says the old lady, "I'm going to hell."

"You can't go there, "says St. Peter. "You'll be raped and sodomized."

"Maybe so," she says, "but I've already got the holes for that!"

Mayor Resigns !!

Jan Chaddwick, the first elected President of the Village of Broken Springs with a vagina, has turned in her resignation (but not her vagina) to the Council, effective April 1st, no foolin’.


President Pro Tem Bob Pezdispenser, who currently lacks a vagina, will take over the role of President until the Council can appoint a new Vagina in Chief to serve until the September election.

Asked whether he’ll be able to run the Village despite the fact that he’s not a woman, he responded, “Well, I won’t pursue a lawsuit every 28 days and I’ll probably be tearing out the pink carpet in the Village Hall. But other than that, things will stay pretty much the same.”

Ms. Chaddwick has been on the Village Council for eight long years. She seceded Mayorship from the Village’s first non-elected female Mayor, Marian Kiljoy. At the time of Kiljoy’s climb to power, many underestimated the power a mere woman could have in a town that had been run by men for over a century. But Kiljoy set the foundation for a strong Mayorship, which Chaddwick expanded more than many thought was humanly possible. In retrospect, Kiljoy wasn’t half the despot Chaddwick grew to be.

Not that she wasn’t fully grown when she took office…

Among her many achievements, Ms. Chaddwick will forever be known for:

• Suing the Township for half a million dollars because they had the gall to bend to the will of their constituents during the Sewer Project Scandal. Proving once again that crap flows downhill, the Township got it in the end. Township taxpayers were flushed out of hundreds of thousands of dollars all in the name of Operation Tidy Bowl, the Chaddwickian pursuit of universal toilets, no matter what the cost or who leaves the lid up.

• With the help of the aforementioned lawsuit settlement, Chaddwick helped balance the budget for the Village for the first time since Broken Springs was the county seat. In fact, with a half a mill in the bank, the Village’s budget will be balanced for the next 26 years, respectfully.

• Installing two vending machines in the Village Hall lobby, and furthermore, insisting that they always have a full supply of Hostess cupcakes, Twinkees, and Krispy Kremes.

• The about-to-be-commenced Street Scrape Project, which will tear up our roads in the pursuit of beautification of our fair city. Long term goals of the project include remodeling Broken Springs to look like a Norman Rockwell painting so that people will no longer throw their gum in the streets or shoot at local businesses with paintball guns.

• And last but certainly not least, Chaddwick lent her name to the infamous Cease and Desist letter News from Broken Springs received last year, attempting to censor a legitimate new source such as ourselves. Voltaire’s quote comes to mind: It is the characteristic of the most stringent censorships, that they give credibility to the opinions they attack.
  

When asked if she would miss governing the Village, Ms. Chaddwick said she'd miss the power but not the criticism. "The people of Broken Springs won't have Jan Chaddwick to kick around anymore," she said.

But that's an exaggeration. It's more like her larger than life frame's been slightly budged around by foot.

Ms. Chaddwick ended her interview with NFBS with the following reflection from St. Peter:

“It is God's will that by doing good, you might cure the ignorance of the fools who think you're a danger to society. Exercise your freedom by serving God, not by breaking the rules. Treat everyone you meet with dignity. Love your spiritual family. Revere God. Respect the government.”

“Especially that last part,” she said, to which we here at NFBS responded with an Albert Camus quote of our own:

"Nothing is more despicable than respect based on fear."

Kingston supporters: Hally Ho

Dear Editor,

It appears as if those doggone Kingston Kritics are at it again. The very few of them (and I do mean very few as the current count stands at -4) are attacking the best police chief ever both behind and in front of his overworked back

No one’s perfect but Jim Kingston comes dangerously close. He’s a fine man whose job description doesn’t include half of the many things he does for the community. Has no one realized that if he didn’t shovel sidewalks in the winter, we’d all be suffocated in snow? If he didn’t mow overgrown grass, we’d all have hay fever and wouldn’t be able to drive to work? And if he didn’t buy all those scratch off tickets at Weedway, our local economy wouldn’t be booming like it is. I certainly don’t see his Kritics ever doing any of these selfless deeds. The only thing they shovel is more garbage to the press about Jim. Jim has done so much for our community, despite being torn a new one by a few meanies. (Very few… since the beginning of this letter the number has dropped to -6.) Jim is always getting knocked down but he gets up again. You’re never gonna keep him down.

Wake up, silent supporters of Kingston, and let your voice be heard. For every one of his Kritics, Jim has three supporters whose families he’s saved or whose relatives he’s kept out of jail. Everyone should remember the acronym WWJD - what would Jim do? I believe he would fight back (if he wasn’t too sick to show up for work) Let’s all get mad and replace the negativity with obedience to what used to be a peaceful Broken Springs community or even fewer people will want to live here than already do now.

Lucianne Grieves

Bartenders and Cops Don't Mix

Officer Shame, We'll Miss You

Broken Springs’s favorite Man in Blue has decided to take another job in a neighboring town, leaving our poor town with big elevator shoes to fill.

Officer Daniel Shame, infamous for the size of his bow and arrow, gave his resignation as a Broken Springs Police Officer earlier this week in order to pursue his dream job - modeling Calvin Klein underwear. Unfortunately underwear modeling pays by the inch, and the former officer Shame is only endowed with centimeters, not inches worth of raw talent. As a result, he will be forced to moonlight as a police officer for Niles Township in order to pay his bills.

Now would be a good time to give a big KUDOS to Officer Shame for all of inspiration he’s given the staff of News from Broken Springs. Nobody else might, but we will sorely miss him.

Thank you for all of the wonderful memories, including:

Nearly arresting Cecil Mortin for stealing a Slater’s Supermarket grocery cart. You hauled that cart up in your K9-mobile, only to have it fall out as you pulled out onto Old 31. As you later learned, just as Cecil told you, Slaters allowed him to use the cart to push his groceries home because he doesn‘t have a drivers license. But you were proactive in protecting the safety of that grocery cart. Thanks to you, grocery carts everywhere can breathe a sigh of relief. Well, at least until it crashed to the ground.

I can’t tell you how many young girls’ lives you’ve changed by letting them touch your badge as you kept an eye on the taverns in town. Those girls, guaranteed, will never forget you. No matter how much therapy they get.

Remember Durango, that loveable mutt who couldn’t smell marijuana if you’d pulled over Cheech and Chong? You trained him with your own two feet. When he went to the kennel in the sky, it was clear that Broken Springs PD lost one of its finest members. God bless his furry soul.

Your target practice caught you up in all sorts of trouble but here at NFBS, we understand that all work and no play make Danny a dull boy. Anyway, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve been gambling at the boat or taking a four hour lunch at Subweigh. You could’ve been hunting behind Pri-Mart and accidentally shooting someone in the leg as they pumped their gas.

That reminds me of that time you were hunting behind Pri-Mart and you accidentally shot someone in the leg as they pumped their gas. Boy was that a hoot. But thank you for doing it on your own time and not company time.

And last but certainly not least, thank you for signing your name to that God awful Cease and Desist letter that we received a year ago. You remember that letter, don’t you? It had a lot of big words in it and was filled with legal threats. I know you didn’t really mean it for us since we always write about you in the most positive light possible. You really meant it for your nemesis, Bonii Didjaseedat. But it was awfully nice of you to include little ole News from Broken Springs in all the fun and games.

Daniel Shame, always remember: We’ll miss you more than Britney misses booze. If you’re ever in town, don’t forget to visit. You can even sleep over if you tip a few too many. We have a couch for guests on the front lawn… at least until that worthless Debris Code Officer tells us to get rid of it.

Township Sets Trap for Kingston

Township Officials Boggled by Chief’s Disappearance

Police Chief Harry Houdini?

The police in the small town of Broken Springs, Michigan, as in other small towns, often search for missing persons. But it isn’t everyday they search for one of their own, let alone their own boss. However, ever since Police Chief Jim Kingston was named in three complaints filed by Broken Springs residents, he’s been harder to find than the criminals he once helped to catch.

Township authorities, anxious to resolve the complaints as quickly as possible, reported earlier this week that Kingston has missed work most of last week and failed to show for the monthly police committee meeting, where the aforementioned complaints were to be discussed. Officially, he’s ill, according to those close to him. His wife even presented the Township Board with a handwritten note from home.




But calls to his home are left unanswered. His mail (most notably his Lottery Digest and Hustler magazines) have yet to be picked up from his PO Box.* And the most haunting clue to his disappearance is the overgrown grass in his front yard.

“Nope, ain’t seen ‘im,” says neighbor Wilbur Reed. “He ain’t even took out his trash.”

Has the 30 year police veteran skipped town? Is he lying low until things quiet down? Or has he simply vanished into thin air? Local police are none the wiser than everyone else. They said it was days before they noticed the Chief was even gone. And since then, they insist that if he doesn’t have a warrant out for his arrest, they’re not all that interested in finding him.

“A man’s got a right to some private time,” says Officer Daniel Shame. “I usually spend mine on the commode just before breakfast. But if Jim wants to take his all at once, that’s his prerogative.”

There are those in town, however, that claim to have spotted Kingston in broad daylight. Some witnesses insist they’ve seen him buying Super Cash scratch offs at Weedway gas station. Others claim to have watched him work a Sudoko while waiting for his Jiffy Lube oil change.

One wild eyed resident even says she saw him sharing a Corona and singing karaoke with Elvis Presley at Coyote’s Bar and Grille. “He better not quit his day job,” she added.

Whenever the elusive Kingston decides to come out of hiding, one thing is for certain. If he sees his shadow, we’ll have six more weeks of winter.

* As of this printing, someone has picked up the Hustler magazines.

From Jimmy

Dear Broken Springs citizens (and rabble rousers),

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter from my hammock in the northern part of Florida, sipping a Corona and smoking a big fat Cuban cigar which I’m sure isn’t doing my bad heart any favors. My attorney has just phoned me to advise me that during my temporary hiatus, Lt. Roy Smegley will take over my duties as Police Chief. I have the utmost faith in him to handle all the responsibilities left up to the head position, from mowing out of control grass on the riverbank, to chasing twelve year olds off the streets after curfew. There is no one better capable for this job, other than me. But I unfortunately have a very contagious condition that disables me from performing my duties as the best Police Chief ever.

Fret not, my small town friends (and enemies). My condition is not life threatening, only job threatening. My many doctors have assured me that I am the only one susceptible to this rare disease, which they’ve named “Bonii and Brucitus” after those who’ve given me the serious affliction. Once I recover, if I do recover fully, I’ll still retain the present day 60% of my brain capacities and 32% of my motor functions.

I don’t intend to blame my absence from duty completely on my condition, but I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t notice the first symptoms near the time those three complaints were filed at the Township Hall. Still, I performed my duties to the best of my ability until another - much more common - affliction caused me to accidentally miss Monday night’s Police Committee Meeting, for which I was crucified by local blogs and “newspapers.”

As an aging man in my (ahem) middle forties, I sometimes suffer from CRS. If you need it spelled out, you’ve never had it. Truth be told, and I’m rather ashamed to admit this, I forgot to remind my wife to set the clocks up an hour for Daylights Savings Time the previous Saturday night. I have several witnesses who saw me strolling into church an hour late Sunday morning, right around the end of the Preacher’s sermon. I knew it was nearly over because I could hear Gladys Spitzer snoring in the corner. My wife, bless her platinum blond soul, took the blame for my oversight. And because she’s always right, I didn’t disagree. I just let her redeem herself by setting the clocks ahead after we got home from church. But the silly woman forgot again and come Monday morning I was wondering why the seven o’clock news came on at six.

I wandered in early to the seven o’clock police committee meeting at a quarter to eight, but Katie told me they’d already adjourned and that Ernie was hotter than a premenstrual hornet because I was not there. When I called him later, I figured it was in my best interest to be at least two states away, so I headed to Florida. I had my lawyer call in sick for me at work and that’s where we presently stand.

I expect a full recovery and when I’m reinstated with a proper and much deserved pay increase, I’ll be happy to clear up all those questions concerning Police Manuals and redacted phone logs. Those complications can also be explained away as simply as my temporary leave of absence. In the meantime, Broken Springs, I hope you miss me ten times as much as I miss you. How could you not? In a few more days I bet even my critics will be begging for my return. And being the good hearted soul I am, I’ll never turn my back on our fair town.

God Bless,
James E. Kingston

Police Committee Meeting

Where’s Jimmy?

On this 12th day of March in the 2007th year, we gather to have a police committee meeting in the small township of Onoyoko, in the medium sized state of Michigan. But what if you threw a meeting and no one showed up?

Well, lots of people showed up for this meeting, minus the one person upon whose very existence was necessary to hold the meeting. But he wasn’t there. I can’t complain much, really. I missed the last meeting because of a date I had with several dead Popes, not to mention the time I spent with the deceased poets Keats and Shelly.



But then again, the Committee isn’t relying on me to give a report each month about how our officers are “busier than usual.”

Before the meeting started, and before I realized that you know who wasn’t there, I felt the presence of two cops behind me. I mean, directly behind me. Probably sticking kick me signs on my back. Officer Allgay, recognizable by his cue ball head (that’s not a dig… I love cue balls) was heard taking a call from the Sheriff, whom he told he’d call back later. But the real question is what will he call him? Sir? Your Highness? Sugarbuns?

Just a guess but I think he’d like that last one.

Just then Officer Allgay pokes me in the back with his pen (at least I hope it was his pen) to make sure I made proper notes of his attire for the meeting. Apparently he mistook the Township Hall for the Kodak Theatre, the cheap white tile for the Red Carpet, and me for Joan Rivers. And I’m just crazy enough to indulge him.

Mr. Allgay, I’m begrudged to admit, was dressed to the nines, but only because he isn’t tall enough to reach the tens. His stylish dark colored khakis contrasted the bright glow of his head in such a way that one couldn’t help but to look at him. All in good fun, Mort. Or should I say… Chief Mort?

Threatening to interrupt my note taking fun, Chairperson Hildecrust calls the meeting to order, but not until after he expresses how the absence of you know who boggles his mind, seeing as how all the important things are happening.

I sympathize with poor Ernie. Having a police committee meeting without a police chief is like putting on shoes without shoelaces. Unless you have Velcro shoes, which we don’t. Or sandels, which are practical in the spring and summer assuming you’ve remembered to clip your toenails and shaved the long black hair off your big toe.

As the minutes pass, and the Chief’s Report isn’t read because there isn’t a Chief there to report it, another cop walks in and sits down behind me, making me feel a bit like a whore in church.

The committee begins talking about buying another car, this one for a grand cheaper, from somewhere else.

Then there is some talk about the union contract negotiations and Ernie gets roped into representing the committee.

Sue Frettin brings up a way to possibly resolve one of three complaints recently filed by citizens against the Township concerning the Chief’s behavior. Resident Bonii Didjaseedat requested the phone logs from Chief Kingston on a day when she suspected he was in contact with a certain someone he shouldn’t have been in contact with. But when she received her FOIA requested log, the entire document was blacker than Benton Harlem at midnight during a power outage. A copy of this log was passed back and forth to committee members and it rather resembled a Rorschach inkblot test. Looks like a guilty conscience to me. The attorney (who looks to have lost some weight) says that Jimmy told him he’d blacked out the numbers from personal calls in the log. Sue Frettin, hoping to resolve this conflict, offers to be the middle woman and look for whatever number Bonii suspects may be on the list. Bonii agrees and hopefully Sue will be able to pry the original, unredacted copy from the grips of Kingston in the future. In the meantime, Bonii asks to see the receipts where Kingston is reimbursing the Township for the personal calls made on his work cell phone. Sue doubts the existence of such receipts and Committee member Bob Frugal quips that there is probably no extra charge depending on what kind of cell phone plan he has.

Ex Commissioner and now ordinary citizen Curly Headed Sandy comments that for a Police Chief who’s on duty 24/7, there are bound to be some personal calls made on his work phone and she doesn’t mind.

No one thought of ringing him up right then to ask why he wasn’t at this all important meeting.

Concerning the other complaints, not much could be said about the incomplete (at best) policy and procedure manual turned over to the Clerk’s office in response to another FOIA request. The Committee had many questions for the Chief, none of which could be answered so long as his seat remained vacant.

Then the bombshell is dropped. Ernie Hildecrust says Jimmy missed most of last week from work and asks everyone’s opinion on whether it’d be prudent to name a substitute Chief. It suddenly dawns on me why the three cops are at this meeting after all. They’re like vultures, about to swoop in on Kingston’s decomposing carcass.

Mort, have I mentioned how handsome you looked tonight?

The attorney advises the committee that it’s not the time to replace Kingston, even if only temporarily. He will make some calls to come to the bottom of things, he says.

As an endnote to the meeting, Bonii asks a question on behalf of Troublemaker Boob about whether or not permission was granted to Officer Keith Mauve February 16th to take his car home to Stevensville overnight. She asks if Hildecrust requested car video footage, as resident Boob asked him to do. Ernie said he had not done so. Sue mentions that the officer may have been needed in court early the next morning, but seeing as how the next morning was a Saturday, well, it was worth a try, Sue. Curly Headed Sandy scoffs at the idea that Bonii is now following Officer Mauve, not to mention Daniel Shame, and Chief Kingston himself. That Bonii sure is a sly one, ain’t she? I wish I could be in three places at one time.

Meeting adjourned at 7:26. Everyone got to bed at a decent hour, thanks to Jim Kingston playing hooky.

Kritics Wrong Again

Dear Editor,
The Kingston Kritics are at it again, this time raising a stink over a so called phony police policy manual that our hard working and dedicated police chief turned over in response to an intrusive and unnecessary FOIA request. Will these people never shut up? I bet they’d even complain if Chief Kingston washed their cars and vacuumed their floormats. And they need it, trust me. I’ve seen their floormats.

Turning over the policy manual like he did is just another illustration of how dedicated and hard working Chief Kingston is to Broken Springs. Rather than admit there is no Township approved policy in existence, he took the matter into his own hands like a leader would. Committed to abiding by the public’s every whim, including those people who constantly criticize and ridicule him, he gave one of his “bosses” what was requested within an adequate amount of time. Does a pupil get in trouble for handing in their homework on time? No. Nor should he.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re saying to yourself that a pupil should get in trouble for handing in someone else’s homework, or homework they copied from someone else, at the very least. But let me remind you again how difficult it is to put together a police manual. Doing all the work himself would’ve taken him off of Broken Springs very dangerous streets. Thank God Chief Kingston has the good sense to keep his priorities straight.

Sincerely,
Buzz Alcrutch

Like a bad penny, I always come back

I recently arrived back from vacation, which means Kingston and his Kronies had a vacation too, at least from my sarcastic pen. But as luck would have it, while the cat’s away, the mice will play. And play they did.

There wasn’t much reporting to do in Italy about their Polizia, except the small fact that they dress like fairies... although I quite like the hats. I think hats like these should be issued here just to hide the grey hair and receding hairlines of our officers. In Rome, cops were only armed with a whistle. If they had tasers, they must have kept them concealed in small packages. (Notice the obscenity in the background... if such a statue was in Broken Springs, Jan Chaddwick would be livid.)

I wonder if Jimmy’s new car can outrun this hunk of metal?




Once I got back to home sweet home, I learned that the real excitement was back in Broken Springs. Forget the gladiator games at the Colosseum. Forget the Senate floor where Caesar was killed. Forget Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. Even forget the Volcano that wiped out Pompeii. Broken Springs has its own Mt. Vesuvius about to erupt.

Stay tuned.

Broken Springs, Italy?

Kinda reminds you of this, donut?

Have a little fun

while freedom fightin'...

In Memory of Molly

The world lost another strong woman this week, but not before she said what she had to say. Her name was Molly Ivins, and after 62 feisty years, cancer was the only thing that could shut her up.

There’s a saying that well behaved women rarely make history and Molly was living proof. She was nothing if not a hell raiser. As a political humorist known for a trademark Texan vocabulary that often spilled into her hard hitting, left leaning editorials, she is best known for coining the nickname “Shrub” to refer to our current periwinkle of a president. In her prolific writing career, she wrote for the Houston Chronicle, the Texas Observer, the New York Times, Minneapolis Tribune, the Dallas Times Herald, and Time Magazine and her freelance work has appeared in Esquire, Atlantic, The Nation, Harper's, and TV Guide, to name a few. Four times she was a best selling author and three times a Pulitzer prize finalist.

But all that’s not to say she was what she might’ve called a high-falutin bigwig reporter or even a career oriented modern day conventional woman. Quite the contrary, she was as down to earth as they come. Perhaps even a bit too down to earth. When she worked for the New York Times, she had a habit of going barefoot in the office. And among her two greatest honors? When the Minneapolis police force named its mascot pig after her and when she was once banned from the campus of Texas A&M.

Molly was never one to pull any punches and as an outspoken feminist, she collected her share of controversy. Her first column for the Star-Telegram began as such:

“Should you happen to contravene a law made by the only politicians we've got, this too will become a matter of some moment to you. For example, if you happen to possess six or more phallic sex toys, you are a felon under Texas law. In their boundless wisdom, our solons decided that five or fewer of the devices make you a mere hobbyist."

Only her first choice of words instead of “phallic sex toys” was dildo, not to be confused with the first name of our current CIA name leaking vice president.

Her satirical wit often targeted the big and powerful, state and federal politicians and big business lobbyists, in other words, those who were often too big for their own britches. “There are two kinds of humor,” she once told People magazine. “One makes us chuckle about our foibles and our shared humanity,” she said. “The other kind holds people up to public contempt and ridicule. That’s what I do.”

And dayum good she did it, too.

On Bush she once quipped, “The poor man who is currently our president has reached such a point of befuddlement that he thinks stem cell research is the same as taking human lives, but that 40,000 dead Iraqi civilians are progress toward democracy.”

On fuel prices: “The price of gas in Texas is now so high that women who want to run over their husbands, have to carpool.”

Molly’s feistiness didn’t waver with illness. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1999, she even joked, “After cancer, there are no more bad-hair days.” In an article titled “Who Needs Breasts, Anyway?” for Time magazine, she matter of factly mixed harsh reality with humor. “Having breast cancer is massive amounts of no fun. First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you. I have been on blind dates better than that.”

In an America where women are still often silenced, if not as obviously as they were in the past, Molly often didn’t fit in. She needed a bigger America, one that isn’t, in 2007, still debating whether a woman could or should be president. She needed an America with more of an open mind, with which to encompass both her 6 foot wild red headed physique and her sharp often wielded weapon of choice, the mighty pen.

In the end, cancer had the last laugh. But up until she died she never stopped writing. Less than three weeks ago, she wrote her strongest column yet, encouraging mass outrage over Shrub’s latest hair-brained troop surge scheme.

“We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous. Make our troops know we're for them and trying to get them out of there. Hit the streets to protest Bush's proposed surge. If you can, go to the peace march in Washington on Jan. 27. We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, ‘Stop it, now!’”

It isn’t particularly funny, but it cuts straight to the bone, in typical Molly fashion. The only question which remains is will we listen?

Her Archived Articles

Peeks to the Past

Tiny tidbits of small town news that never made the big town papers…

50 years, 3 months, 17 days ago…

Myrtle Snodgrass of Broken Springs, who is majoring in animal husbandry at Michigan State University, announced her engagement to be married, not to an animal, but to Mr. Henry Samson of Oak Lawn Drive. Mr. Samson, however, tells News from Broken Springs that he can be an animal, particularly a beast between the sheets.

47 years, 9 months, 11 days ago…

Henry and Myrtle (Snodgrass) Samson of Broken Springs have given birth to their third child in as many years, an eleven pound angel named Daniel Henry Samson. Following the happy event, Mrs. Samson announced she is filing for divorce from Mr. Samson, citing continual hardships and ill health. She plans on going back to school and changing her major to elementary education.

43 years, 4 months, 1 day ago…

A minor traffic accident occurred on the corner of Cherokee and Main Streets as Chuck Hickaloy was waiting for Mrs. Smith’s chicken to cross the roadway. Samuel Tyden, who was approaching, failed to stop in time and rear ended Mr. Hickaloy’s ‘57 Ford Pickup. Both drivers were uninjured. The chicken survived as well but was clucking mad at Mr. Tyden’s negligence while behind the wheel, for which he received a traffic citation and a good squawking to from both the chicken and Mrs. Tyden.

37 years, 8 months, 6 days ago…

Ezra Jacobson, 103, the oldest resident of Broken Springs became the youngest deceased resident of Tulip Hill Cemetery Saturday. At 103, he was healthy as a horse but unfortunately not as fast as one. He was hit by a truck while trying to cross U.S. 13.

26 years, 6 months, 27 days ago…

Local resident Arnold “Bottlerocket” Shaw was tragically killed Friday when his Independence Day fireworks show malfunctioned. Friends say Arnie always wanted to go out with a bang.

21 years, 11 months, 9 days ago…

The much anticipated Higgins-Clark family reunion ended prematurely Saturday when Glen Higgins insisted the worst thing any of his sons ever did was marry into the Clark family. Several Clark family members reciprocated the animosity by throwing rocks at many of the Higgins clan. Only an hour after the reunion started, authorities had to break up the melee. No charges were filed but the Higgins and Clark families are planning on separate reunions next year.

Potent and Impotent

Merry Christmas everybody!

I don’t know about the rest of you but this weather makes me want to shop ‘til I drop. Fortunately for my wallet, the weather also makes me avoid traveling on anything with wheels, especially in Broken Springs where hand gestures trump street signs. Just tonight I saw someone stopped on Fairy at Main Street, as if the intersection was a four way stop.

To our knowledge, there was only one casualty in the other night’s six hour power outage, not counting the meat in my freezer. The carp that got stuck in the dam, which in turn blew the transformer and shut down the power, didn’t survive, despite many efforts on the part of rescue personnel - including our own recently promoted Daniel Shame, who tried saving the fish by giving it mouth to mouth. It’s no wonder the poor thing died. As if getting stuck in the dam wasn’t bad enough.

But you would’ve thought the Apocalypse itself came to Broken Springs with no power. It makes you wonder how our ancestors survived in a world with no laptops, cable, mp3 players, or cordless telephones. No wonder they had so many kids back then.

Did everyone read Dick Commando’s latest Deep Thoughts letter to the Journalistic Error? If not, pick up a copy and turn to page two. It’s a real doozy. Buried somewhere around page 89 of the paper is another letter, criticizing the Commando letters. As usual, reason takes a back page in our weekly rag.

Here at Broken Springs Manor, we’re huge Chicago Bears fans, unlike that Troublemaker Boob, who’s a pesky Lions fan (has he no taste?) It’s been twenty-one years since Da Bears made it to the Superbowl and Vegas shows them as seven point underdogs. Lord knows I’ve been wrong about much in my life, but I don’t think I’m wrong when I predict that the Bears will pounce on those poor Colts and their precious Peyton Manning. You heard it here first. Bears by six… ten if Rex doesn’t throw any picks.

In the police blotter this week… a couple was driving home one cold night when the wife asked her husband to stop the car. There was a baby skunk lying on the side of the road, and the woman saw that it was still alive. She said to her husband, "It's nearly frozen to death. Can we take it with us, get it warm, and let it go in the morning?"

He answered, "Okay, get in the car with it."

"Where shall I put it to get it warm?" she asked him.

He says, "Put it in between your legs. It's nice and warm there.

"But what about the smell?" she asked.

His answer? "Just hold its nose."

The man is expected to recover, but the skunk she used to beat him with died at the scene.

Until next time…
Downward, inside out…

Police Puzzled by Recent Burglaries

The Broken Springs Police Department doesn’t often get their panties in a twist investigating local crime. Small town criminals usually possess an IQ lower than President Bush’s approval rating, so it’s often a simple thing to crack the workings of a small mind, especially working with a small town mentality. But the latest string of robberies has the local PD scratching their balding heads in bewilderment.

Two weeks ago, several residents began having their personal vehicles broken into as they’ve been parked in Broken Springs. One lady had all of her mascara and a pair of beige pantyhose stolen. A man living on Crass street had his three string banjo taken from his ‘79 Ford Pickup. And a pair of twins attending college had a crucifix taken off their review mirror, and a half eaten ham sandwich stolen from atop their dashboard. In each case, the burglar has busted either the windshield or a back window to gain entry into the cars, and in every case, he’s left behind a most interesting, if perplexing clue: a large rock.

“When we saw the first rock, we initially thought it to be a paperweight,” explained Police Chief Jim Kingston, who graduated top of his Broken Springs class. “It was only after we found rocks of similar sizes at future crime scenes when we realized the burglar was leaving us a clue, perhaps as a signature to his work.”

Officer Daniel Shame, who would’ve graduated at the top of his Ridgemont class if it wasn’t for all the smart kids in his class, believes the burglar is mocking the police department, implying that they’re ‘dumb as a box of rocks.’ “Only there’s only one rock and it’s never been left in a box,” he added.

The precise location of the rocks seem to indicate a hidden meaning, as well. They’re always located directly under the broken window, often with broken glass scattered around them, so they’re the first thing seen by the police.

“We’re dealing with a very intelligent criminal,” said Officer Shame. “We’ve run the rocks for prints and they always come up clean, which means the burglar is wiping them down or wearing gloves. Furthermore, he’s never left a drop of blood behind, despite all of the busted glass. How he manages that, we don’t know. We just know he’s very, very smart.”

Kingston said he’s put out an all points bulletin to Broken Springs residents urging them to be on the lookout for a religious man, probably in his mid thirties, with an interest in country folk music, wearing mascara, eating a ham sandwich on his way to Victoria’s Secret. Anyone with information about these burglaries are asked to contact the department.

Why most cats are skinny

Police Commission Meeting

In the second consecutive Monday Morning meeting, nothing much happened. The Township attorney, like nearly the rest of Broken Springs, was out of town. And the most noticeable change in the Commission itself was the presence of its newest member, Sue Frettin,’ who made her presence known by the 35 questions she posed to the Chief throughout the meeting.

At the start of the meeting, the bills and financial report were not ready, but by the end of the meeting, the secretary had them passed out to be voted on.

The Chief’s report was the same old thing, as well. The Broken Springs PD was, as usual, “extremely busy” Complaints were up five percent.

There was a complaint that Dickie’s restaurant was putting too many eggs in their omelets. The Department had to check it out. Another complaint concerned Subweigh skimping out on the meat on their six inch Steak and Cheese. And most importantly, the Teeny Tiny Bakery was accused of omitting jelly from their jelly donuts. All complaints were investigated promptly and diligently. Follow up investigations are still occurring almost daily.

The new car issue came up again, and again Bob Frugal voiced his preference for resolving the issue sooner rather than later. Jimmy Kingston asked very nicely….

“Can we at least have one new car, please please please, with a cherry on top?”

But Ernie Hildecrust, in typical Ernie fashion, pushed for more time, mainly because the Township board is not clear about how dearly their recent divorce from the Village will cost them. Will they lose their assets or not? Will Mayor Jan Chaddwick sue for even more assets than she already has? Only time will tell. Commission Rookie Sue Frettin’ said that even if the Village insists on alimony doesn’t mean the Commission will have to pay it. But since the bids for new cars are good through March, they can afford to wait another month.

We have four cars active on the road, three of them broken in with over one hundred thousand miles. Of the three cars that have the most miles, the oldest is not over four years old and the newest is only two years old, which makes me a bit skeptical on ever buying a Chevy Impala.

The new computer for Diane McDonald is in, but the transition has been anything but easy since Diane was working with the Neanderthal Lotus program and is now learning Windows XP. They should’ve probably waited for Windows CE.

We’ve secured our $2500 grant for our portion of the Livescan system. I somewhat remember what exactly the Livescan system is for, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

There was a follow up comment about a complaint issued at the last Commission meeting concerning cops being seen at Sandra Oh’s Bakery near John Bears Road and Hellywood. Only one officer ever confessed to being around that area but only for a traffic stop, and only to turn around in their driveway. He denied ever having consumed any bakery goods while there, and saliva swabs confirm his story. Chief Kingston has not heard from the troublemaker… er, I mean complainant about the issue, so as far as he’s concerned, her story was as full of holes as the donuts his cops didn’t eat.

There was a sixteen year old touching people inappropriately around Anthony’s University. There was a sexual suspect arrested in Georgia on Christmas Eve… he was seen wearing a red suit and asking children to sit on his lap. The department told these suspects to keep the inappropriate touching where it belongs, in the local bars after hours.

There were also a couple B&E’s recently. Keith Mauve, infamous for his burglar intuition, investigated a burglary Friday night on Gruff Street. Another B&E involved a male suspect making sexual innuendos to young males, around Morningwood Drive. Boy we’re horny in Broken Springs. Perhaps we need a brothel?

The Commission then started talking about future meeting dates. Rookie Sue Frettin’ prefers Friday mornings for future meetings, but the two farmers on the Commission aren’t so keen about coming in on mornings. Temporarily, however, it’s decided that 7 AM is a better time than 10 AM, so the next meeting will be Monday, February 12th, before the roosters crow or the sun comes up. Personally I love this time, as it’s usually right before my bedtime. Loyal NFBS readers will have to rely on other write-ups next time, however, because next month it’s my turn to be one of those “out of towners.”

By the end of the meeting, the bill report is ready and voted on. At this time, Rookie Sue informs Kingston that she would like a personal tour of the Police Department via Diane McDonald, just in the interests of being better informed about police matters. Kingston grudgingly nods in response.

Get well soon, Phil Ruse!

Reno 911: Miami

In movie theaters February 23...

Wig Thief Escapes by a Hair: Later Netted

After escaping capture by a hair last week, the wig thief who has terrorized downtown Broken Springs has finally been netted. The arrest was made after the suspect was spotted sweeping up hair clippings from a local hair salon. Samuel Kevin Browning was apprehended on charges of hair theft, destruction of personal property, and fleeing and eluding a police officer. If convicted of these violations, Browning could face up to five years in a federal penitentiary and many more years of psychological counseling to cope with his inevitable public ridicule.

“I’m so relieved that menace is off the streets,” said 87-year-old Claire Thompson, clutching desperately at her curly brown locks. “My girlfriends and I were scared to go out at night.”

Browning’s reign of terror, dubbed locally as the ‘Hair Scare’ began earlier this month when Browning, a former Cub Scout and avid Chia Pet collector, began robbing unsuspecting older women of their wigs in random Broken Springs restaurants.

“I was having a quiet dinner with my husband,” recalls 73-year-old Deborah Searing, “when I excused myself to the ladies room to tinkle. As I sat there attending to my lady business, a masked man leaned over the door and swiped at my face. I managed to jump out of his reach but my wig fell off my head and into the stool,” she told us, too embarrassed to tell us what happened next.

Officer Daniel Shame continues the story of the suspect‘s escape. “The elusive wig didn’t dispel the assailant from reaching into the commode to retrieve the stolen goods. At that time he fled the scene, splashing a trail of toilet water down the hall and into the parking lot. After several minutes of lapping up evidence from the toilet, our K9 unit tracked the suspect out of the restroom and past several fire hydrants. But the track eventually dried up, leading us to a dead end.”

“Wouldn’t that be more of a split end, Officer?” we interjected.

“Yes, the case was a real head scratcher for awhile But Browning was caught by the hair of the dog that bit him. He couldn’t keep well enough away of the city’s hot spots where we had round the clock surveillance on every wig in Broken Springs, and we finally combed the rat out. That‘s the last time he‘ll be tangling with Broken Springs police.”

In all, the Wig Thief victimized six people, only four of whom have recovered their hair unharmed. One of those hairpieces, strategically placed on a snowman outside of Dollar General, belonged to feisty octogenarian Velma Collins, who made this statement to the press: “They should lock the bastard up and throw away the key,” while expressing further comments with distinctive hand gestures not fit for description.

Three more victimized wigs were found in Browning’s home, two lining Browning’s kitty litter boxes and the other cleverly used as a bag for his bowling ball. “I’m so happy to have my hair back,” said 98-year-old Sophie Harper while dusting Tidy Cat out of her wig, “I hope they put that animal behind bars where he belongs.”

Evidence shows that Browning also used individual pieces of hair from the wigs as dental floss and authorities even found what they believe are Martha Hooper’s long silver hairs strung through Browning’s fishing pole.

Asked to explain his behavior, the bald as a cue ball 32-year-old Browning said, “I wanted to be a barber but my parents insisted I attend law school instead. Hair has so many under appreciated practical uses but unfortunately I can‘t grow any of my own. Once I learned that hair could be had for free by sweeping up the hair salons and barbershops, I realized that stealing wigs was a real hair brained idea. But the damage has already been done.”

Browning will be defending himself at his upcoming trial. Sources tell us he plans to plead not guilty by reasons of temporary insanity.

“Sanity… it comes and goes,” he quips with a smile. “Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

Brown Socks

This story is a part of the Spec the Halls contest for speculative winter holiday-themed fiction, artwork, and poetry. You may find descriptions of and links to other entries at http://www.aswiebe.com/specthehalls.html

It was Christmas morning when I decided to kill Santa. He brought me socks again, you see. And they’re brown socks, as if being socks isn’t bad enough already. My sister got exactly what she wanted - a Barbie doll with a pink corvette. Yes, she stuck it in my face before the wrapping was all of the way off. “See what I got from Santa?,” she said. “What did you get, Brian? Huh? What did you get, huh, huh?” I held up my brown socks. The pink corvette flew by them like an airplane. Left behind in its exhaust were my brown, ugly ass socks.

Mom and Dad say I shouldn’t say such words. Profanity is not fitting for an 8 year old boy, my mom says. Neither is murder, I’d assume. But you can bet your ass I’ll kill that damn Santa for bringing me those ugly brown socks.

A burning rage welled up in me that morning. All day I thought and dreamed about the death of Santa. I planned my strategy, plotted the murder. My first instinct was to stab him. His bleeding skin would match nicely with his red suit and his reindeer’s red nose. But that would be too messy. Mom would get mad if I got blood on the carpet. So then I thought Santa should eat a bullet. Dad had taught me to fire his shotgun a year ago. I could stick the shotgun up the chimney as Santa’s coming down, then light the fireplace to destroy the evidence.

Perfect. At Santa’s ninth hour. I’d sleep on the couch, handy shotgun by my side and listen for his sleigh on the roof. Surely his jolly self would startle me awake. But what if my aim was bad? Or worse yet, what if he armed himself? You couldn’t be too careful sneaking into strangers houses in the middle of the night. I needed a backup plan. Then it hit me. Rat poison in the cookies. Mom always had a box of D-con lying about somewhere. I could stick a few of those green pellets in the middle of some Oreo cookies. And if Santa pulled a gun on me, I could lull him to his fateful death with milk and cookies.

The year flew by. Soon it was Christmas Eve of the following year. Sleepily waiting on the couch, I was startled by every noise. I checked three times to see if I’d loaded the gun, which I had. The night progressed, and the noises continued. “Probably mice,” I thought aloud as I looked at the cookies on the table beside me. I’d taken all their D-con.

Another bump, and my heart raced. I heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Brian, what are you doing up?!” My mom’s words echoed off the walls and I worried she’s scare away Santa. I jumped up, the gun toppling off my lap.

“I was hungry,” I quickly lied, and she noticed the rifle. Her mouth opened wide. “I was scared of burglars,” I said.

Just then Santa started down the stairs, which were nowhere near the chimney, and he said to my mother in a voice much like Dad’s, “What’s he doing up?”

“Hold it right there!” I raised the gun, pointing it towards his head. Dropping his bag of presents, his mouth dropped open. When it did, his beard began falling off.

“Brian, it’s me. It’s your dad. Put the gun down!” He pulled the beard all the way off, and his red hat off his head. What my father was doing in a Santa costume I’ll never know, but sure enough, it was him.

I put the gun down, as my mother muttered again and again, “You’re in so much trouble.”

Dad came over and unloaded the gun, then grabbed me by the shoulders. “What were you thinking!” he yelled, bullets in his palm. I was utterly humiliated. I looked to the presents that had fallen down the stairs. Brown socks peeked out of an opened box that had my name on it. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Dad was asking.

“Dad,” I said sincerely, and waited.

“Yes son?”

“Have a cookie.”

Police Thief Still Chief

Questions linger about local charity and Chief's webbed feet...

For most people in Broken Springs, Christmas means many things. It’s the time of year to spread holiday cheer, or at least refrain from killing those who almost run you down at Walmart. It’s a time of giving instead of not giving a damn, and it’s a time when every house has a surplus of chocolate and sugar coated candies, usually stuffed in tiny stockings and given as last minute gifts. But for many in our fair city, Christmas is also a time to donate to a local well known charity run by a local well known ordinary Joe, only his name ain’t Joe and it turns out he ain‘t so ordinary. The charity is Operation Christmas Care Bear and the Ordinary Joe is Police Chief Jim Kingston.

Unfortunately for those few generous Broken Springers with an IQ in the triple digits, if their charitable donation to Operation Christmas Care Bear is just a ploy for a tax deduction during America’s second favorite holiday, Tax Day, the news that everyone’s favorite charity isn’t legal might come as a shock, especially if you file long form. But reality is often stranger than fiction, even clever satirical fiction dreamt up by a local Gonzo wannabe.

Just why isn’t Christmas Care Bear registered with the state of Michigan as a legal charity? According to Kingston’s unbiased pro-bono (and anti-Cher) lawyer, Bill Marcus, the charity is in the process of registration that has so far taken approximately twenty years. “We had our information on file when Lansing introduced their new state of the art Commodore 64 computer system. Then we were requested to resend our tax information so they could transfer it to 5 ½ inch floppy disk. Next thing you know, they were using 3 inch hard floppies, then CDs and now they’re asking us to send in either a flash drive or a link to our myspace profile,” explains Marcus. “Jim’s charity has always been very informal because no Broken County employee above the age of 16 can even type using all their fingers, let alone set up a myspace profile. So the process of registration has been a lengthy one.”

Others in the community question the ethical code of a Police Chief who’s gotten his hand caught a few too many times in the cookie jar. “I’m not saying he’s a thief but he’s tried to cash checks that were not his to cash,” says Broken Springs village leader Robert Boob. “Then there was that one time all that Senior Bingo money came up missing and Jim’s department came up empty in their investigation. But come on, where’d he get that new Corvette?

Kingston defenders insist it was a Pinto and not a Corvette.

“I’m just saying, if it talks like a duck and it walks like a duck, then it damn sure ain’t no chicken,” summed up Kingston‘s loudest critic. When asked if he was calling the Chief a duck, Boob answered, “If the quack fits.”

Chief Mallard could not be reached for comment.

Whether or not Christmas Care Bear gets registered, one thing is for certain. Chief Kingston could sure use a decoy.

Police Committee Meeting

Since there is no longer a Police Commission, meetings are now informally held at ten in the morning on the second Monday of each month. Why they chose this time is beyond me, but I’m cool with it because it doesn’t interfere with my pool league. As a result of the split, the women of the former Commission are no longer allowed to sit at the front table, although they‘re still unfortunately allowed in the door. Curly Headed Sandy’s spot at the front table was taken by the new Police Committee Attorney, Bob Grandluff, who doesn’t dress nearly as stylishly as former Commission Attorney, Charlie Amnesia. But to his credit, he also didn’t show up late. In Jan Chaddwick’s chair there remained only the imprint of her butt cheeks from the last meeting. That sight alone was worth getting up early for.

There are new rules, as well. The new Committee isn’t allowed to vote. Their job is merely to recommend proposals to the Township Board based on informal discussions. With this in mind, they recommend that the Township Board accept the financial statement and Chief’s Report.

They look over the budget and someone asks why our tire expense is so high. We buy tires 16-20 at a time, particular during the winter, insists Chief Kingston. We go through more rubber than Bill Clinton in a whorehouse. Our tire budget is second only to the Daytona 500.

We’ve had transmission problems in cars 4 and 5, which means that they can’t communicate with their crew chief or the pit crew.

Criminal activity is up on the barren streets of Broken Springs. Holiday season is among us. And what better way to spell out the Christmas spirit than with rampant crime?

As requested, Chief Kingston has gotten the price for two new cars. The good thing about new cars is they come with four brand spanking new tires. But the bad thing about new cars is they cost between 18,000 and 18,800. That’s about forty five hundred a tire, if I can trust my Broken Springs math. Tack on mirrors and police equipment (not to mention an awesome stereo), 19,500. Safety of the officer is at stake, since the car is their main tool, at least according to the head officer.

There are 145,000 miles on car #5. No wonder Kyle Busch cannot win a race. Bob Frugal asks if that’s the time a car needs replacing. The Chief says 80-90,000 is the ideal time to replace a car. He says you can get an old car refurbished so it’s like new for 13 grand, but that makes no sense when you can buy a new one for 18.

In other words, saving five thousand dollars makes no sense to Kingston. He obviously went to Broken Springs Schools too.

In the past a squad car was replaced each and every year but they stopped that because they were worried that the millage wouldn’t pass.

Ernie Hildecrust says they should wait and see. They table the proposal to buy two new cars. Not to be outdone, Jim Kingston then asks for one car.

The Committee says it must first wait to see how messy the divorce from the Village is.

We can afford, however, a new computer for Diane McDonald with which she can read the current issue of News from Broken Springs. Cost: $800.

There’ve been several instances of paintball damage around town, and police have a possible suspect in mind who drives a Grand Prix. You hear that, Paintball Thug? Time to switch cars. I don’t recommend Chevy Impalas, as they tend to have transmission and brake problems.

There was a close call on a front porch where a paintball came 12 inches from an elderly lady’s head. That explains her blue hair.

Officers have been extremely busy with drug busts as well. Heroin and Crack have been on the rise. Kingston even tells us where the loot is: in the Meadow Lane, Dogwood area.

There have also been lots of frauds, illegal lotteries, and scams. But enough about Christmas Care Bear…

Phil Ruse asks why our cops are going to other townships without compensation. For instance, we went fourteen times to St. Joe. I couldn’t hear all of this conversation over Curly Headed Sandy’s grumbling from the crowd but I did catch Kingston say that we’re not necessarily going there looking for crime, just coming across crime in those areas. It’s just a matter of being in the wrong place at the right time, which happens to us all the time.

Bonii Didjaseedat asks from the crowd whether or not any officer was involved in transporting Jeremiah Narc to his second polygraph test. Kingston reworded her question before answering, in the negative. When pressed on whether or not he’d transported Narc, he said yes, but only because he was on duty at the time, and only because he and the Prosecuting Attorney intimately discussed the matter and decided that it’d be in the entire family’s best interest for the alleged child molester to take another - preferably easier - polygraph examination. This was in an effort to leave no stone unturned in their investigation, which is now closed, by the way.

Bonii also insists that she’s seen and videotaped police cars at a bakery out of their jurisdiction. Kingston insists that his officers can’t stave off their constant craving for jelly filled doughnuts and must occasionally stop for their own safety. Curly Headed Sandy, from her comfy seat in the audience, lets the committee know that she doesn’t have a problem with our officers wasting taxpayer time and money to binge on Krispy Kremes and hot dogs.

Meeting adjourned.
Good thing too because I really wanted to go back to bed.

Santa Coming to Coyote’s Bar and Grille

On Friday, December 15th, Santa and his servant elves will drop into Broken Springs, according to a press release from the North Pole. According to the Top Secret Yuletide Memo, Santa himself will be unable to attend the event, due to an unforeseen outbreak of gonorrhea. But a Santa replacement will be on hand to sit in for Big Red. This year that honor goes to local national Dr. Phil celebrity, Jeremiah Narc. From 4 to 7, any area children will be able to sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. Area kids will also be able to get their mug shot taken with him and for an extra ten dollar charitable donation to Chief Kingston’s Christmas Care Bear Foundation, local parents can buy a trip for their offspring in Santa’s sled, which is currently Jeremiah’s uninsured rusty green Ford Bronco with expired license plate tags.

“Just remember Christmas Care Bear is not yet officially registered with the state, so claim the donations on your taxes at your own risk,” reminded Kingston.




“It’s sure to be a festive event,” said Coyote’s owner Roger ‘the Codger’ Jones. “Jeremiah will make a great Santa because he loves kids. No one can argue with that. If anything, he loves them too much, especially that daughter of his.”

When asked if his wife will be dressed as Mrs. Claus, Jeremiah said he’d recently caught her having an affair with one of the elves. Her attendance is unlikely, unless she can figure out how to untie herself from the stove.

Potent and Impotent

Wow… Broken Springs is now famous. Thanks to Dr. Phil, the random googler searching our fair city will now suspect that we’re all a bunch of white trash perverts. Is it true that Michael Jackson has bought property here?

I want to thank the many people who have approached me and/or my family about these silly articles I write. It means a lot to me that I can bring a smile to your face in the midst of dreary reality. The way I see it is Broken Springers have earned the comic relief.

I’d like to give literative fellatio to Township Supervisor Ernie Hildecrust for finally growing a pair in regards to the Police Commission. For too long we’ve spoiled the Village with double representation. Make them grovel, Ernimator. That’s what they get for playing the safety card.

Winter is almost here and haven’t we all missed it? I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m looking forward to seeing that huge pile of plowed snow across the street from the Post Office. There’s nothing that screams Broken Springs more than a humongous eyesore that obstructs your intersection visibility.

I’m all for practicality, so here are some useful tips that can be applied any time of the year:

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto! The blockage will be almost
instantly removed.

2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away. I recommend our Mayor.

3. Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the toilet seat toilet by simply using the sink. You also save money by not flushing.

4. For high blood pressure blood sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.

5. A mouse trap, strategically placed on top of your alarm clock , will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives, then you'll be too afraid to cough.

7. Have a bad toothache? Smash your thumb with a hammer and you’re guaranteed to forget all about the toothache.

8. You only need two tools in life - WD-40 and Duct Tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

9. Remember: Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

10. Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

Until next time,
Downward and backwards…

Worst police dog in the world.

Pluto the police dog is useless. His handler is pretty poor too(with all respect).