Tails of the Cougar

I confess.

I attacked the Burro. I know the two buffalo got blamed for it but I did it. It was all me. The Burro totally had it coming, though.

You see, I was on my way back from my honeymoon when I ran into the Burro and all hell broke loose. Yes, Lucy and I tied the knot. We were wed in a private ceremony (invite only) and immediately flew to the Caribbean for our honeymoon. When my editor found out where I was (she tracked my credit cards) she demanded that I either high tail it back to Broken Springs or email her my next column. Well, I hocked my laptop in order to buy Lucy an expensive 4 karat gold wedding ring so after only three fun filled days and four funner filled nights I cut my honeymoon short and took a greyhound back home. It was Monday afternoon when I arrived back and I didn’t have a clue as to what to write about for my next column. Shallow Throat told me specifically that she’d reject any harlequin romance so I couldn’t write about my wedding night. I couldn’t even write about how Lucy makes my whiskers twitch with that little thing she does with her hips. Or the way the sunlight hits her eyes when she’s grooming herself in the salon window. Lucy is my muse and without her, I’m just an ordinary cougar with no literative merit.

So I was prowling the township, fighting off writer’s block, when I ran into this wise cracking Burro, whose name was Bubba. As I was walking by his fence, he hollered to me, “Hey, aren’t you the cougar the cops got an APB out on?” in his best Eddie Murphy voice.

“What’s it to ya?” I snapped back, not in the mood for a smart ass.

“Two thousand big ones. That’s the price on your head,” he answered back with dollar signs in his eyes. Two thousand bucks? I was flattered. I don’t think even Osama himself has a bounty that big. I kept walking, with a pounce in my step from the compliment.

I was nearly past the fence when I turned back to the Burro and said, “What’s an APB? Is it anything like the PBA?”

“No, no, you dumb pussy,” said the donkey. “All Points Bulletin. It’s like a BOL.”

“B.O.L,” I spelled out the letters. “You saying I stink, Burro?”

“No, you big dumb wad of fur. BOL means Be On the Lookout. But lucky for you, the Broken Springs cops are SOL when it comes to most things.”

“SOL?”

“Nevermind. I just mean they’ll never catch you because they’d have to be smarter than the creature they’re trying to catch. Like those two buffalo over there.” Bubba nodded to the bison grazing across the road. “Those fellas wouldn’t stand a chance against Jimmy’s boys.”

“Who’s Jimmy?” I asked.

“Jimmy Kingston? Chief of Police? Boy, you are a dumb cat. Where you been living, under a rock?”

“No, at the Holiday Inn, in the Caribbean. I just got back from my honeymoon. I wore a black tux…”

“With tails?”

“How’d you know?”

“I have ESP.”

“Hey, I know that one! It’s a sports channel.” I grinned, proud of my wisdom.

“You’re a regular Danforth Quayle, aren’t you?”

“Well I don’t like to brag,” I said, clearing my throat. “So anyway, these cops… are they dangerous?”

“Only to themselves. I wouldn’t worry. They’re about as competent as a turtle at a drag race,” said the Burro as he chewed a mouthful of cud.

“Isn’t Jimmy the guy who runs that local charity?” I said, recalling details that my editor had shared with me before I left town.

“You mean the charity he has YET to register with the state?”

“I’m sure he has a real good reason. I've only ever heard good things about Jim Kingston. Isn’t he a hometown boy made good?”

“Good? Good for nothing.”

“Take it back! That’s an officer of the law you’re talking about. His job is to protect and serve Broken Springs. And I personally think he’s doing a damn fine job.”

“Spoken like a typical FOJ,” mumbled the burro who was beginning to get on my nerves. “Friend of Jim,” he added before I got the chance to ask.

“I’ve never even met the man. But doesn’t he also mow village lawns and pick up litter left along the street?”

“Nominate him for sainthood, why don’t you? Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you think that power hungry Mayor of ours is light on her feet and has the best interest of Broken Springs in mind.”

“I don’t know her either, but Lucy says she colors her hair. She’s not exactly a fox but you’re no Prince Charming yourself, Burro.”

“That reminds me of a joke. What’s covered with a tent and rolls on wheels?”

That was the straw that broke, in this case, the burro’s back. Before he could blurt out the rest of his Mayor in a wheelchair joke, I bared my teeth and lunged for his jugular. I’m normally not so violent but Bubba had spouted enough of his negative venom. He fell to the ground and muttered, “A motor home,” just before he lost consciousness from the loss of blood.

I high tailed it out of there. The buffalo were my only witnesses and I negotiated their silence by letting them out of their gate. It was only later that I learned the fate of Bill and Cody. Bubba later died, as I understand. I didn’t mean to kill him. I only wanted to maim him a little and teach him a lesson. But I’m sure you understand how I felt when he badmouthed our fine public servants the way he did.

When I told my editor what happened, she signed me up to an anger management class and requested a full psyche evaluation. She also put me on probation. I told her that Lucy says I’m just a big pussy. I purr when you rub my belly. If only the Burro had known that…

The Cougar can be reached at berriencougar@hotmail.com

Code Enforcer Rescued

Officials today halted the three day investigation into the whereabouts of Broken Springs Litter and Debris Code Enforcer, Daniel Shame after he was discovered in a resident’s backyard hanging upside down from a tree. Shame, who was missing an entire day before anyone noticed he was gone, had apparently set off a cougar trap in the backyard of residents who were out of town for the first part of the week. The trap netted him upside down, where he hung motionless until help arrived in the form of a little girl eating a lollipop, chasing after fireflies Tuesday night.

Daniel Shame retells the story. “At first I think she was scared of me. Lots of people are scared of me, so that’s not unusual. But I had to beg her to go get the police and leave behind her lollipop. ‘Go get Jimmy,’ I told her in my most unthreatening tone of voice. ‘And if you leave your lollipop I won’t tell your parents you’re out after dark.’”

The little girl, now regarded a hero among the community, has been given a big bag of lollipops from the Shame family and local dentist, Dr. Floss, who call the lollipops a good investment in future business.

“It was awful,” explains the Code Enforcement Officer, whose face is still criss-crossed from the twine of the netting. “The first night it rained. The next morning I was assaulted by a gang of loose bowelled pigeons. Thank God Mrs. Horrace doesn’t close her shades at night. That was the only thing that kept me going.”

The trap set by local residents was intended for the often seen but never proven cougar who’s presence has graced our area in the past several months. The residents who set the cougar trap were surprised, to say the least, when they heard that their trap had caught a 250 pound animal, but not exactly the beast they had in mind. In the interest of Broken Springs, they gave permission to the Broken Springs police to release the captured creature on the condition that he never trespasses again.

In an unrelated news story, the residents in question were cited for three different litter and debris code violations, all observed by Shame while he hung upside down from the net in their tree.

Straight Thunda

By: Chocolate Thunda, Shaken, Not Stirred!

As I am typing this I am learning that The Broken Springs Clovers basketball have splashed Bath out of any picture of a state title. Way to go guys! The next one is for all the “balls.“ So, mad props to the guys representing 'ole B S H S. It‘s about time BS receives some positive publicity.

Also as I type this, I have tonight's Pollution in front of me, and I have to say, those guys at the paper really surprise me every now and again. It was a nice little article and I think we will see more of them as this C and D business grinds on through the summer. At least I’d like to see more of them. Maybe take them out to a romantic date to Flemintines, and a moonlight drive ending with a long makeout session near the beach as we casually grope each other. Ahem, but back to the C&D letter…

Why is it some people have to get their trick sack all caught up and twisted if someone is merely having a laugh on their expense? Why can't they just take it as the funny, Ha Ha, and just let it be? If you don't like what's being said, there’s a back button in your browser right up there and to the left. See it? Right next to the spaghetti stain on your screen. Plain and simple, right? It reminds me of what that great master of comedy George Carlin once said:

“A reverend Donald Wildman in Mississippi heard something on the radio that he didn't like...
Well reverend, did anyone ever tell you that there are two knobs on the radio? Two knobs on the radio! Of course, I'm sure the reverend isn't too comfortable with anything that has two knobs on it…”

And now for something completely different…
There was recently a letter published in a local "Paper" taking issue with Fireman Thickett’s homecoming he received after returning from Iraq. The letter writer didn’t believe that Thickett deserved such a homecoming because he was paid to be in Iraq. Sgt. Whizzanant may not be getting paid booku bucks but she’s the only non-firefighter that has ever marched with the department's parade unit. Let me make this clear. Any American who goes to Iraq to save lives and fight for democracy and comes back home with his head still attached to his body deserves all the credit we can give them. To say that Fireman Thickett deserves any less is a mockery. Sorry if this sounds like a rant, but I’m trying to get all of this in before Jim Kingston himself comes in and rips my computer plug out of the wall.

This letter business has got my trick sack all worked up as well. I didn't even receive one and I’m Throat’s right hand man. Well, sometimes I use both hands. She likes it when I use both hands. To type I mean. Get your minds out of the gutter!. But if the site gets shut down, I will have to go back to self mutilation just to pass the time. This has been a breakthrough as far as a creative outlet for me. By the way... A couple of articles ago I had found myself in the county inn for… how do you say..."Drunk-in-PUB-Lic". Well, thanks to the creative talents of my good editor, I was able to make bail and get the heck out of there before I became deflowered a second time! The judge went easy on me and since I was the first case of the day he sentenced me to a couple of laborious hours rewiring computers at the local cop shop and time served for good behavior. As my former cellmate Bubba says, all’s well that ends well. In fact, he thought my “end” was fine as hell. But I’ll save that experience for another article.

Finally... Has anyone seen TC the cougar lately? He was at my house laying low for a while until this letter business is resolved. He said he couldn’t hang out at Throat's pad anymore without being noticed by the fuzz that circles the place. Really I think he just likes hanging out with me because I let him drink my beer. But two nights ago, he went out with some of the wild pack dogs of the area for a night on the forest. Hasn't returned since. Hopefully they’re out the finishing the remains of a mammoth or something. Maybe they met some fine bitches (female dogs, you perverts) and are out for a midnight howl at the moon. Hopefully he’ll come back when he’s finished. He needs to scare up some more business again. His numbers in the polls are dropping. I haven’t seen him mentioned in any of the toilet papers around here for weeks. If someone not intoxicated or stoned doesn't see him soon, people will forget what he looks like. He might even be able to walk down the street without wearing that fake beard and moustache.

This is Chocolate Thunda, signing out, hoping NFBS lives to see another day.
Remember...crack kills, pull up your pants!!

Potent and Impotent

The buzz around town is that Slater’s Supermarket is moving to Australia. They’ve already begun to move many of their items off the local shelves. Why Australia? Rumor has it that they are going down ‘under.’ We can only assume their decision has something to do with packaging improvements. The bagboys will no longer ask, “Paper or plastic?” Instead it’ll be, “Kangaroo pouch or alligator bag?”

Be sure to vote in our new weekly poll. If you have any suggestions for future poll questions be sure to email them to berrienspringsmi@yahoo.com.

Has anyone seen TC, our recently hired Cougar Columnist? He was last seen a couple days ago walking paw in paw with Lady Lucy (as he called her) down on Lover’s Lane. He’s past deadline and will not answer his cell phone. The idle bugger has probably turned it off, which is strictly against the rules in his contract.

The third chapter of Brokeback Springs is on its way. The author is trying to find inoffensive euphemisms for butt sex. Look for it later this week.

Here is a joke that all Kingston apologists should enjoy:

A Zebra dies and arrives in Heaven. As he enters the Pearly Gates, he asks St. Peter, "Am I a white horse with black stripes, or a black horse with white stripes?"

St Peter said, "That's a question only God can answer."

So the zebra went off in search of God. When he found Him, the zebra asked, "God, please, I must know. Am I a white horse with black stripes, or a black horse with white stripes?"

God simply replied "You are what you are."

The next time the zebra saw St. Peter, the saint asked him, "Well, did God answer your question?"

The zebra looked puzzled. "No, God simply said, ‘you are what you are.‘”

St. Peter smiled and said to the zebra, "Well then, that answers it. You are a white horse with black stripes."

The zebra said, "How do you know that?"

"Because," said St. Peter, "if you were a black horse with white stripes, God would have said, ‘You is what you is.’”