Pothole Hotline

For those of you unaware, Michigan has a Pothole Hotline number (888-296-4546) you can call around the clock, seven days a week to report pothole criminal activity. The other day I hit a pothole so large that my purse went flying out my convertible top. I quickly dug my cell phone out of my glove compartment (making sure not to sideswipe the other drivers on the road and barely missing that old lady with a walker) and dialed to report the pickpocket pothole. Here is a transcript of my call.

Dispatch: Pothole Hotline, can I help you?
Me: Yes, I’d like to report a pothole please.
Dispatch: Your location, M’am?
Me: Broken Springs
Dispatch: Where at in Broken Springs?
Me: It isn’t very big, you know. I’m in my car. It’s red. Can you see me?
Dispatch: What street, please?
Me: U.S. 13. Well, Crass Street after it turns into 13, after the traffic light.
Dispatch: Which traffic light?
Me: THE traffic light. We only have one.
Dispatch: And where is it?
Me: U.S. 13 and Crass Street, like I said.
Dispatch: The traffic light?
Me: Yes, the traffic light.
Dispatch: I meant the pothole.
Me: You didn’t mean the light?
Dispatch: No, the hole.
Me: What hole?
Dispatch: The pothole you’re calling to report.
Me: There’s no pot in Broken Springs. Cops confiscate it all.
Dispatch: Not all of it, apparently.
Me: What was that?
Dispatch: Nothing. So this hole…
Me: Oh yes, the hole. It’s a biggie. I almost lost my car in it.
Dispatch: Can’t be that big.
Me: I have a small car.
Dispatch: And I bet it’s red.
Me: Hey, how’d you know?
Dispatch: It’s not important. So about this hole…
Me: What does the color of my car have to do with the pothole?
Dispatch: Nothing at all.
Me: Then why bring it up?
Dispatch: I didn’t. You did, about an hour ago.
Me: Yes, you’re right. But I was lying. My car is blue.
Dispatch: What color’s the pothole?
Me: What are you, an idiot? It’s black, the color of all potholes. But it had a lot of blue in it when I drove over it. It’s pretty deep too.
Dispatch: My, how’d you get out?
Me: I drive a Hemi.
Dispatch: I thought you said you drove a small car?
Me: Well, it’s a small Hemi. Like a mini-Hemi.
Dispatch: A blue mini-Hemi convertible, eh?
Me: Don’t you believe me?
Dispatch: Of course. Now about this hole…
Me: You’re too gullible. I drive a Mazda. I was lying about the Hemi. Not about the pothole, though. It is deep.
Dispatch: How deep?
Me: If you fell in it, you’d need a rope.
Dispatch: That’s fairly deep.
Me: Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s another time zone down there.
Dispatch: You’re not in the pothole now, are you?
Me: Heavens no! Thank God. No way would I get cell service down there.
Dispatch: You could if you were on Nextel.
Me: I have crappy Centennial.
Dispatch: So about this hole…
Me: What more do you need to know?
Dispatch: Well, we have a physical description. It’s black and deep. About how big would you say?
Me: Hmm… plate size.
Dispatch: Paper plate or regular plate?
Me: Paper plate size… but not one of those small paper plates. Just a regular paper plate, like the kind you use at a potluck and fill it up before you get to the really good food.
Dispatch: So the pothole is the size of a potluck paper plate?
Me: You got it. Maybe even a little bit bigger.
Dispatch: How much bigger?
Me: Couple inches.
Dispatch: Male inches or female inches?
Me: Pardon?
Dispatch: Well male inches are smaller… you know, the length of fish, the size of anatomy…
Me: Oh! Yes.
Dispatch: Male inches then?
Me: No! I meant yes I know what you mean. My boyfriend always says he has a 7 inch--
Dispatch: Ahem… we should get back to the hole.
Me: Whose hole?
Dispatch: The pothole.
Me: Oh, for a minute there I thought you meant my hole.
Dispatch: No, I meant the pothole, which is black and deep—
Me: Are you sure you’re not talking about my hole?
Dispatch: No! I’m talking about the pothole, about as big as a potluck paper plate—
Me: A couple inches bigger.
Dispatch: Oh yes, a couple female inches bigger?
Me: Uh huh.
Dispatch: Would that be radius or circumference?
Me: I failed Geometry.
Dispatch: Are the couple inches around the edge or to the center?
Me: That’s a toughie. Around the edge, I think.
Dispatch: Circumference then.
Me: But wait. It’s not really a circle. More of a rectangular oval. Does that make a difference?
Dispatch: Not really.
Me: Whew. They’re like snowflakes, ya know. No two are exactly the same shape.
Dispatch: That’s true.
Me: I’ve never eaten a pothole, though. A pot pie, on the other hand--
Dispatch: Which lane is it in?
Me: Neither. It’s in my freezer.
Dispatch: The pothole is in your freezer?
Me: Are we back on the hole again? I was talking about the pot pie.
Dispatch: What lane is the pothole in?
Me: The right lane.
Dispatch: The right lane could be either lane, depending on which direction you’re going.
Me: That’s true.
Dispatch: So which direction were you going?
Me: North.
Dispatch: And in which lane going north?
Me: There’s only one, unless you want to turn at the light.
Dispatch: I thought you said you were past the light?
Me: Well I was when I called.
Dispatch: When did you encounter the pothole?
Me: Shortly before I called.
Dispatch: Is the pothole before or after the traffic light?
Me: Before, on Crass Street.
Dispatch: Crass Street is not a state road. It’s a city road.
Me: So?
Dispatch: So we cannot do anything about it. You should report it to your city road commission.
Me: My city what?
Dispatch: Road Commission. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.
Me: After all we’ve been through?
Dispatch: Have a nice day.
Me: But wait—
Dispatch: (click)

Chippendales Blow into Town

Saturday night the World Famous Chippendales blew into Broken Springs, electrifying a standing room only crowd of 38 women and 7 untrusting husbands in the Conference Hall of the Methodical Church. The show was the first of its kind ever to come to Broken Springs, and quite possibly the last, due to mass protests by several prominent tighty righties and those who serve on the local town council.

The Chippendales – Steve, Chris, Mike, Jordan, Jerry, and emcee Dan – stripped nearly down to their g-strings to an assortment of pop remixes and Tom Jones’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” in which they defiantly took their hats off. They also danced numbers themed around cowboys, Grease (the musical starring John Travolta, not actual residue on your garage floor), the Navy, and the ever sexy fireman. In between their dance routines, the well lubed men offered the crowd personal lap dances at just ten dollars for thirty to forty seconds of full body gyrating contact which is often, according to emcee Dan, mistaken for heavenly bliss. The hot seats sold like hot cakes.

Unfortunately not everyone was wet with anticipation for these buff men in their skimpy underwear, particularly Broken Springers who haven’t seen a semi-naked body since two years ago during the Superbowl Halftime Show. It was these non subscribers to cable, along with some jealous husbands who almost put a stop to the show altogether. They’d all heard that the Chippendales came to the neighboring town of Niles last year and the town needed three whole days to recuperate. Nurses didn’t come into work, secretaries had hangovers, and several of the town’s florists (except for Sissy Samuel) showed up late the next day. Despite their good moods when they eventually returned to work, their tardiness cost the city of Niles an estimated $2,508 (and 47 cents) in revenue. These figures were reported at the last Broken Springs Council meeting by the newly formed organization, Public Residents against Ungodly Devilish Erotic Shows, or PRUDES for short. Council members largely agreed that the Chippendale show was not the ideal entertainment for the college town of Broken Springs, particularly the same week that the Passion Play opens on the campus of Anthony’s University. By a 5-4 vote they decided that the show must go on, but only under a set of strict restrictions that included rules on what they could and could not take off.

“I understand the PRUDES concerns, but the show has the potential to be a great tourist attraction for Broken Springs. I believe our money issues outweigh our moral issues,” explained Mayor Jan Chaddwick, who voted against the ban. “Also, my daughter bought me a ticket for Mother’s Day. I wouldn’t miss a bunch of almost naked sweating muscular men for the world!”

Stan Chaddwick, the Mayor’s husband and usually her political bed fellow, voted against his wife for the first time in Broken Springs history. “If the women of Broken Springs want to stuff dollar bills down guys pants, they should do it while doing their husband’s laundry,” he said. He angrily walked away after Jan gave him a look that seemed to suggest he wouldn’t be getting near her pants any time soon. Not even if he did the laundry.

Despite a last ditch effort to protest the show with signs, PRUDES only succeeded in advertising the site of the show’s location. Several PRUDE members let curiosity get the best of them and were later seen standing on pews wearing only their Cross Your Heart bras and crucifixes.

After the show, the Chippendales signed autographs and had photographs taken with the crowd. Tourism was up during their visit, but many employers are now crossing their fingers and hoping that all their female employees show up for work in the oncoming days.

Mayor Chaddwick could not be reached for comment, probably still in bed recuperating.

Police Commission Meeting

It was a full house at April's Police Commission Meeting. Jacks over Aces, but out of fear of a defamation accusation, I won't say who were the jacks and who were the aces.

Meeting was called to order at precisely seven o'clock sharp. And speaking of sharp, Attorney Amnesia is dressed to the nines as usual, which is more than I can say for the rest of the commission. It's a relief that Joan Rivers never comes to Broken Springs.

The meeting minutes are accepted, as are the bills, including a hefty chuck of dosh to replace a keypad at the station. Keypads, like sanitary pads, are notorious for needing continual replacement, according to Lighter Curly Headed Sandy. Perhaps we might look into a key tampon system? Chief Kingston said he'd probe deeper into the issue, and see if he couldn't "pull a few strings."

Mr. Gordo Davis walks in fashionably late. Well, perhaps I should rephrase that. He walks in late wearing a NBA pullover.

The commissioners agree to pay the bills (just once I'm waiting for them to vote down paying the bills... what would happen? At this pace, we'll never know) and then the financial report is accepted.

In this months package... er, I mean packet there's both February's and March's police activity sheets, which means the Chief has a bulging package... er, I mean packet. His officers, he assures us, were kept busy both months, not including the many hours they guarded Subweigh from robbers.

In old business, Chairman Hildecrust brings up the lingering issue of the millage, which, if you'll recall, no one wanted to talk about last month. Mayor Jan Chaddwick freely admitted that we can't run a department on three mills, so she recommends asking for four mills, and Bob Frugal agrees. But Hildecrust is a bit leery, insisting that we already have the highest millage in the county. Then the commissioners discuss the meanings of the word "new," which last I checked, means the opposite of old. A audience member, presumably township coucilwoman Suzette Reynolds, explained that the word new is necessary in the wording of the millage, even if the amount of mills will stay the same. However, it will cost the taxpayers more money if it passes. Chaddwick motions to ask for four mills, and Bob Frugal supports. Motion is carried, but must now be approved by the Township board tomorrow night.

In a continuation of the Chief's report, Officer Tweed (whose retro tweed uniform is all the rage at the station) recovered a stolen laptop computer. It was recovered from on top of the thief's... wait for it... lap.

Diane McDonald showed her continued loyalty to the village of Broken Springs by filling in for the absent crossing guards. Again, I need to emphasize that it takes guts to walk into the middle of traffic in Broken Springs armed only with an often ignored stop sign. Three cheers for Diane!

Officers Kingsley and Tweed will also be attending a street survival school in the future. Undoubtedly this will train them to properly deal with the hundreds of armed gangs we have terrorizing our roads... er, I mean streets.

There's also a criminal investigation school that Officer Scroggins will attend. Tip to Officer Scroggins... keep your hands on your wallet at all times. Pickpockets love those cop conventions.

There's also department fire arms training, but only for those officers with long arms, Officers Polaski and Burk. And of course, we'd be silly not to have an armed officer patroling the scene of Anthony's University during the Passion Play, There's nothing like religion to bring out the evil dregs of society, as we all know.

Chaddwick, Kingston, and Amnesia (to the surprise of the latter) are also nearly done putting together a policies and procedure booklet. The first two, at least, worked long and hard at it, and all that's left is another two hours worth of hole punching, according to the Mayor. Good job, public servants!

The meeting is then adjourned, sixteen minutes after everyone sat down. World's second shortest meeting, at least since I've been attending. Hardly worth putting on new panties for.

Scam: flat screen TVs passed off as oven doors

An unsuspecting Broken Springs woman in the market for a new oven door was conned into buying a cleverly packaged flat screen TV instead. When she arrived home and opened up what she assumed was her bubble wrapped kitchenware, she was roasting mad.

“It was actually a very modesty packaged flat screen TV,” explained an empathetic Broken Springs police chief, Jim Kingston. “There’s no telling’ how many innocent people have fallen victim to this malicious fraud. There‘s no telling’ how many people’s ovens are still doorless.”

“At first I was intrigued that my new over door came with a remote control. You know technology nowadays. Pretty soon they’ll have remote controls for remote controls,” commented the ripped off Midwesterner who wishes to remain anonymous so she won‘t be scammed again. “But when I saw that my oven door was really a flat screen TV, I knew I was out the twenty dollars I paid for it.”

The victim’s husband was no less steamed. “We tried using the item as an oven door. I drilled hinges on the side and with the help of a little duct tape, it seemed a perfect fit. But we quickly learned that it couldn’t stand the high temperatures. The good news is the fire department saved the house.”

The suspect accused of pawning off flat screened TVs as oven doors is now in custody, after he attempted to sell similar products to undercover police officers. After an intense interrogation, he confessed to selling flat screen TVs as microwave doors, cutting boards, and washers and dryers, as well. Kenneth B. Weathersby is facing numerous counts of retail fraud, as well as income tax evasion.

Kingston and other Broken Springs officials can only shake their head in disgust. The investigation will continue, on the suspicion that Weathersby’s alleged scams are related to a North Bend conman’s similar fraudulent and possibly copycat activity.

Area officials have urged all public residents in need of an oven door to purchase them only from reputable retail stores, such as Radio Shack.

Potent and Impotent

How’d you all like that April Fools Day joke? Got a couple of you, didn’t I? Come on, didn’t I? Did anyone catch the Monty Python reference? Nope? Didn’t think so.

Don‘t worry, dear Readers. Shallow Throat would never abandon you like that. Not when readership is up 250% and I can smell a book on the horizon. In fact, they say the more you blog, the more traffic you’ll receive. Does anyone know a good literary agent?

I’d like to give a shout out to my personal fan club at Floppers Restaurant. It’s folks like you who make all of this worthwhile. Keep reading, fellers.

Easter’s on its way, so here’s a joke about eggs.


She was in the kitchen beginning to boil eggs for breakfast. He walks in and asks "What's are we having?"

She turns to him and says, "You've got to make love to me this very moment."

He, thinking it's his lucky day, lays her over the kitchen table and they do their thing. Afterwards he says, "What was that all about?"

She says "The egg timer's broken!"

Calling it Quits

At this month’s staff meeting, writers, designers, artists, and editors met to discuss the future of News from Broken Springs, the satirical online blog that has, for the past ten months, lampooned life in a small Midwestern town. After two hours of heated argument, timid laughter, and an endless supply of tears, it was announced by NFBS’s press secretary, Scott McMicrophone that the end has come.

“Jennifer Gonads, also known as Shallow Throat, regrets to inform the public that due to unforeseen circumstances, she’s shutting down her popular online blog, effective immediately,” announced McMic, amidst the flashing of cameras. When asked if those unforeseen circumstances related to the C&D letter recently received by the blog, the press secretary only shrugged and said, “It’s unfortunate that local police and politicians lack a sense of humor. But I guess when you carry a gun, you don’t need a sense of humor.”

In the hallway, profanity could be heard with the arrival of NFBS’s newest correspondent, Chocolate Thunda, who had not taken the news well, by the sound of it. He grabbed the microphone away from the press secretary and proclaimed, “Not me, I’m not quitting! You can have my mouse when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers!” He had to be restrained soon after that, and hit with the tranq gun normally reserved for the Cougar just so he’d calm down.

Shallow Throat, dressed completely in black, with her head hung low, made the following brief statement to the press: “Producing News from Broken Springs isn’t fun if everyone isn’t laughing. I don’t think they’ll be laughing any time soon, so that means none of us should laugh either. In fact, no one should ever laugh again. If that’s what Broken Springs wants, then that’s what it should get.”

“But what about the freedom of speech?” yelled a reporter from the back of the room.

“Oh, stuff the freedom of speech. All it does is offend people anyway. Who needs it?” answered the former editor.

A small man in a suit piped up. “What about the legacy of satire as a form of social commentary, dating all the way back to Aristophanes of the 5th Century BC?”

“Aristophanes was nothing more than a troublemaker whose time would’ve been better spent buggering young men.”

“What about Swift, Twain, Peter Cook?” asked another.

“Inexcusable agitators, a sorry lot,” spat the former satirist. “The same holds true for the cast of Saturday Night Live, the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Reno 911, and the Colbert Report. Sorry excuses for television nowadays. Give me back Lawrence Welk any day.”

Throat kept a straight face as she answered the skeptical crowd. Before she left, she reiterated, “News from Broken Springs is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! It’s pushing up the daisies! Its metabolic processes are now history! It’s off the twig! It’s kicked the bucket, it's shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile! This is an ex-blog!!”

The infamous ex-editor then scurried out the door and into a black helicopter. At that point there was nothing left to report.

This is NFBS, signing off…

April Fools!

NRA to Host Benefit

By Chocolate Thunda, until the plug is pulled!

In an effort to show support in the impending legal battle in which NFBS may possibly partake, leaders of the National Revolution Association have announced a rally for the press staff of NFBS later next month. All proceeds will go towards the legal defense fund, helping to offset the cost to retain freedom in the small town of Broken Springs. "Battle of the Blog," as it is affectionately known, erupted last week when Broken Springs’s Mayor, Police Chief, and its most notorious police officer threatened the town’s weakly satirical rag with a cease and desist letter.

When asked why the NRA wanted to join the battle, president Carl Heffner (no relation to his brother, Hugh) set down his Budwesier, gripped his steering wheel tightly and said, "After reading that hilarious site about all the mishaps of Daniel Shame and his bow and arrow, we’re not about to let three sissy girls who cant take a joke get the upper hand on the first amendment and regulate what people do or say. What's next? Stripping Americans of their right to bear arms?” The emboldened gun nut clasped his right hip fiercely and continued, “Plus, anyone who goes out of the village limits to practice shooting bows and arrows clearly needs medical treatment! Why wasn’t he target practicing with his gun? What’s he got against guns anyway? I’m not saying he’s a communist but if the furry Bolshevik hat fits…”

The NRA’s offer was extended after word spread that two sissy girls and one sissy boy, sorry, I have that backwards, three sissy girls, had a letter drawn up by their lawyer ordering NFBS to Cease and Desist with a letter delivery heard around the world. Proving once again that every day is a slow news day in Broken Springs, the three officials, who shall henceforth be referred to as Moe, Larry, and Curly, have taken issue with what they say are “lies, lies, and more lies, albeit funny and clever lies.”

Plans for the NRA endorsed event are still sketchy, however. We were able to ascertain that the festival and rally will be held at the Groping Park on Broken Spring's south side. Directions to the location of the rally are: Drive south until just before you hit the river. If you hit the river, you’ve gone too far. The tentative date for the event was originally April 15th, until it was discovered that the Chippendales will be in Niles that day and the NFBS editoress would be unavailable that evening and next morning due to her inevitable hangover. The rally’s date was then changed to April 20th, which will conveniently be Adolph Hitler’s birthday.

There’s also a large parade being planned for the day the NFBS staff receives justice. More to follow as the date and time are secured. Seating on the firetrucks is limited, so we recommend you arrive early once the date is announced.

To Jennifer Gonads

Those who earlier threatened me with a lawsuit over these satirical writings have yet to respond to my demand for a public retraction, so I've taken the liberty to respond for them, satirically of course. -st

Dear Ms. Gonads,

Be advised that we are in receipt of yours letter dated March 24, 2006 demanding a retraction (“Demand Retraction Letter“) for what you characterize as “defamatory remarks” made in our original corresponding letter dated March 21, 2006 (“Demand Letter“). It is regretful, although not surprising that as a US Citizen you resort to the now politically defunct Bill of Rights in your defense. Everyone knows that only terrorists demand the rights granted to them by the US Constitution, and since we are currently at war with terrorists, you ought to feel privileged that we sent this letter via Federal Express and not by A-Bomb.

In light of the fact that the Bill of Rights, even if still applicable, does not protect the right to be rude, your impoliteness will only result in the town’s utter disdain for you and anyone who associates with you. Not once in the Demand Retraction Letter did you say please or thank you. Furthermore, you failed to provide definitions for the Latin legal terms you used. We can only assume that when you wrote, “we hereby reject in toto your clients’ latest effort to intimidate us into foregoing our inalienable right to exercise our freedom of speech guaranteed by the First Amendment” you meant that you would not accept Dorothy’s little dog from us. Who do you think you are, the wicked witch of the west?

While my clients welcome the free expression of opinions insofar as they’re in agreement with their own public policies, my clients do not and will never invite public discourses that are juvenile, lewd, witty, clever, and unapologetically sophomoric. Therefore, we can only offer the following retraction in response to your Demand Retraction Letter.

When we suggested that Jennifer Gonads farts a lot and howls at the moon, we were mistaken. We now know that she does not howl at the moon. We apologize for the error.

In light of our now issued retraction, we demand from you a retraction for your Demand Retraction Letter. And if you file a countersuit against us, we will seek sanctions against you for filing a frivolous counter lawsuit. Furthermore we will poke you in the eyes like Moe did to Larry, Curly, and Shemp.

In closing, you should remember what that real satirist Mark Twain once said:

“A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.”

We anxiously await you to put on your shoes.

Very truly yours,

V. Skrewem & Howe

Clovers Rock!

There is one thing, and probably only one thing upon which all sides of Broken Springs agree. And that is the boy’s basketball team and their dream season.

This Saturday, the Broken Springs boys basketball team came within five points, 2½ baskets, of bringing home the State of Michigan’s Class C Championship. As a former Clover state runner-up (Softball, 1992), I personally know the exhilarating emotions our boys must be feeling. They are both proud and humbled, both grateful to have gone so far and disappointed that they came so close. Naturally, they are heartbroken.

But they needn’t be. Take it from someone who knows, fellas. The fact that you lost means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s the fact that you proudly represented your community and gave your best effort that will speak volumes in the annuls of Broken Springs history.

My only regret in the ‘outing’ of this satire site is that the timing may have possibly taken away some of the attention from those athletes who more genuinely deserve it. The “Blog War” may continue, but let both sides never forget one thing:

The 2006 Clover Basketball team Rocks!

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

As many of you know, NFBS has recently received a Cease and Desist letter which can be viewed here and page two here. All this time I just naturally assumed that the fictionalized town of Broken Springs existed in America… next thing they’ll be telling us is that cougars can’t write.

A big congrats to the Clover boys basketball team, which is playing in the semi-finals of the state championship as I type. May all their balls be nothing but net.

Meanwhile the Clover football team’s coach has unfortunately resigned due to unknown reasons. He’s always had a winning record and is massively popular among the boys. Let’s hope that if there was any politics involved, the two sides can swallow their pride and bring him back.

Please enjoy this blog. We very much hope it brings up a giggle now and again.

Kingston Appointed Bikini Inspector

The Broken Springs Village Council Monday night passed a new ordinance, just in time for spring that may affect many residents who sunbathe in the village limits. The ordinance, entitled the Public Bikini Act will require all potential sunbathers to have their bathing suits inspected and authorized by the Chief of Police before wearing them out of doors. The suits will be inspected for compliance with community standards which includes proper coverage of one’s cleavage and general good taste in fashion to make sure that no lewd or obscene bikinis harm the eyesight of any 80 something year old neighbors looking out their back windows with binoculars.

The Village Council passed the ordinance by a 5-2 vote, with Mike Cinderellagrass, Will Duster, Curly Headed Sandy, and the Chaddwick husband-wife duo voting in favor, and Bill Pezdispensor and Peter Faygo voting against the resolution.

Police Chief Kingston, present in the audience, suggested the new ordinance after he gave a detailed account of the many complaints the BSOT Police had received in years past. “More and more people are calling in to report partial nudity and obscene behavior by their neighbors. It’s indecent. Worse than Larry Flynt,” said the Hustler subscriber who was once sued for sexual harassment. The moral Chief then went on to read a typical report to the council.

Sunday. 8 PM
Complaintent (Name withheld): My neighbor’s bikini just slipped off and her left nipple is exposed.
Dispatcher: What is the crime you’re reporting, sir?
Complaintent: It’s indecent. What if my grandkids were visiting?
Dispatcher: Where are you, sir?
Complaintent: In my backyard, leaning my head over the fence.
Dispatcher: Why are you leaning over the fence?
Complaintent: Can’t see, otherwise.
Dispatcher: What’s your complaint, sir?
Complaintent: Her other tit just flopped out. She’s naked as a jaybird now.
Dispatcher: There’s no law against sunbathing, sir. I’m sorry.
Complaintent: So am I. It’s getting dark and I won’t be able to see much longer.

After reading aloud this report, after the gasps from the blushing Village Council, Kingston proposed a resolution to avoid similar incidents this spring and summer. He offered to volunteer his time to inspect all bathing suits to make sure they meet community standards.

Village President Jan Chaddwick thanked the Chief and encouraged the Council to accept his offer. “Not just anyone would volunteer for such a daunting task,” said Chaddwick. “The fact that he’s offered to do it for free speaks volumes about his character and it’s just frosting on the cake,” added the President as she brought around the conversation to her area of expertise.

During the discussion which ensued, Peter Faygo explained why he intended to vote against the measure. “This is just another way of expanding the blight ordinance. If these bikinis are unsightly or if the women wearing them have cottage cheese thighs, what’s to stop Daniel Shame from citing them for violating the litter and debris code?”

But others disagreed. “Everyone has a right to wear a bikini, but nobody has a right to wear little more than dental floss covering their genital regions. Not in our quaint little village,“ said councilwoman Steven Chaddwick.

Resident Lonna Jackson, frequent sunbather, said she’d be happy to have her bikini inspected by the Chief because she trusts him with the law in his hands, and if the rumors are true, not only the law. "You shouldn’t be scared if you don’t have anything to cover up,” said the women with two things that jump out at you that probably should stay covered up.

Others in the crowd added their support of the popular Chief. “Sunbathing is a privilege, not a right,” said Village Attorney and our local editoress’s brother in law, Fred DeFrankfurter. “So we have every right to regulate it as we see fit.”

Asked by an audience member only known as Troublemaker Boob if he'll inspect male bathing suits, Kingston answered, “For that they’re gonna have to pay me.”

The following ordinance passed resoundingly.

Public Bikini Act

WHEREAS, the Village of Broken Springs has been plagued by skimpy bathing suits in years past and
WHEREAS, the Village is opposed to the open and shameless display of said bathing suits ,
NOW, THEREFORE, the Village adopts the following ordinance:

1. Before sunbathing within the Village limits, a female citizen must first have their bathing suit thoroughly inspected by a qualified obscenity officer (Chief Kingston) to determine if said bathing suit can be deemed suitable, of proper size, color, and tightness.

2. The suit will be subject to inspection at the will of said officer, in a location and time of his choosing.

3. Officer can and should request to see the bathing suit worn by said person.

4. Once it’s passed inspection, the suit will be licensed (tagged) and is able to be worn without penalty in the Village limits for one (1) year, at which time it will need to be re-inspected for its license renewal.

5. Failure to adhere to these inspections will result in a forfeiture of the said bathing suit and a forfeiture of the right to sunbathe ever again in Broken Springs.

Police Commission Meeting

The meeting is called to order, despite Jan Chaddwick being nowhere to be found (and trust me, she’s hard to lose). There are fourteen audience members in attendance, sixteen including the editor of the Journalistic Error.

They begin by discussing the bills, which include $825 for radio repairs and $700 for batteries (rechargeable). Ernie Hildecrust asks why batteries are so expensive. The ones his wife buys for her cordless massager only cost five dollars at Walmart. Jim Kingston blames the high battery costs on the state of Michigan.

In old business, Attorney Amnesia has finished his homework by drafting a contract for Rob Fishnet. It includes a loan of $1,000 with 24 months to return it. Or he could just write the department a check and have Chief Kingston take it down to Three Fifths Bank to illegally cash it.

In new business, there was a bomb threat. Apparently some Broken Springer bought an inflatable doll and verbally announced that he planned to “blow it up.” Kingston didn’t say where the threat took place, however NFBS informants have told us that it was on a school bus.

There has also been an increase in fraud and identity thieves lately. Politicians discussing identity theft? I’ll let the reader notice the irony.

Kingston’s priceless quote on the matter of fraud is, “People’s gullibility is unbelievable.” One needn’t look any further than the FOJ populated audience to prove his point.

Apparently we have a crazy person wandering the streets of Broken Springs. She is spreading lies about our gasoline being too highly priced, the fire department not doing its job, and aliens from Uranus inhabiting our quaint village. So now we know where Jan Chaddwick is…

Kingston begins a discussion on a subject he knows very little about, by his own admission: computers. “Not being totally computer literate,” he begins as he goes on to explain that the station needs new computers (presumably to catch up on NFBS articles). Despite the lack of expertise on the Commission (which is full of folks who think a computer byte is something the dog does when he doesn’t have a bone), they fail to ask the advice from the computer experts in the audience, particularly the “Back Row Bandits” (AKA Back Row Bloggers) who are notorious for running anti-establishmentary websites.

But I speak too soon because then Kingston does something I totally agree with, which hasn’t happened since 1974 when he went to a Grateful Dead concert. He proposed using the $1700 in privately donated money for tasers for new computers. Donator Ozzy Osbourne, from State Barn Insurance apparently sees nothing wrong with it because he gave the money to the department to spend as they see fit, which might also include blowing it away on roulette at the Blue Ship.

Bob Frugal makes the motion to displace the funds, and during roll call, the entire commission, including Curly Headed Sandy votes yes. Apparently either Curly Headed Sandy is so lost without Jan that she doesn’t know how to vote, or she’s had a change of heart about the purchase of tasers, which she’d always supported in the past.

Goodbye Tasers!
Hello Pentium 4s!

This news comes after an article from the Journalistic Error a couple weeks ago described how Deputy Daniel Shame was hit with a friendly fire of pepper spray by Reservist Dic Steelhead while they both tried to restrain a 16 year old outlaw during a basketball game. Tasers would’ve prevented the gang that couldn’t shoot straight from being embarrassed by an intoxicated teenager with vulgar language. By the way, if anyone knows the whereabouts of the 16 year old renegade, please ask him to email Shallow Throat to discuss potential employment on our staff.

The Commission received the audit this week, and while Ernie Hildecrust lets everyone look over the booklet, he and Kingston keep exchanging coy smiles. Then I notice, while everyone else is concentrating deeply on the text, Ernie and Jim begin playing footsie under the table.

The audit, by the way, shows that our department is still in the red, despite having passed the millage last year. Total revenue was $605,000 yet they managed to run up $751,000 in expenditures. For those mathematically challenged, this is a difference of nearly $146,000, or in mill speak, a mill and a half. But the good news is they didn’t get in trouble with the auditors this time like they did last time when they told Kingston that OCCC must be completely separated from the Police Department.

Kingston feels obligated to say that the deficit isn’t due to overspending but under funding, particularly because the Township decided not to kick in their share of the tip, and neither did the Village.

Hildecrust gives everyone a few more hours to look over the contents of the audit, at which time the entire audience falls asleep and begins snoring.

Being the only awake one in the room, I look around to observe the surroundings. I happen to notice that Cathy Pullonhertoeifshehollarslethergo has toilet paper on her shoe, and Gordy Davis has his right hand bandaged up, possibly from an onanism injury. Either that or he’s been fighting with Pete Faygo at Stoppers Restaurant over the last Danish muffin.

They accept the audit and move on to other boring things they don’t wish to discuss.

Concerning the millage, no one wants to talk about it.

Rob Fishnet stands up to say that the Police Academy training is half over and he’s been busy making crib notes for his midterms.

Bob Frugal mentions that the Chief’s Report was interrupted, so he requests the rest of it. But there isn’t a whole lot more to tell, says Kingston because his computer has kicked the bucket, taking a lot of his programs and software with it including all of his mpegs of Girls Gone Wild. He also notes that a lot of the officers have been sick lately.

Curly Headed Sandy adds that Chief Kingston is sick as well, but we already knew that, didn‘t we?.

Meeting adjourned and declared another big waste of time.

Local Editor Flogs Blogs, But Doesn’t Proofread

In this week’s Journalistic Error, editor Cathy Pullanhertoeifshehollarslethergo took a stab at her blogo-sphere compatriots by publishing a syndicated column written last year by Kathleen Parker entitled “Lord of the Blogs.“ But her reprint (with permission) includes a couple glaring inconsistencies and typos that scream for the attention of the local blogs, such as News From Broken Springs.

The first of these inconsistencies is the title itself, as you can see from the online link above is “Lord of the Blogs.” In the Journalistic Error, however, the title has been changed to “All About Bloggers,” as if it’s an encyclopedia entry about those who write Webblogs. A literate reader will note that Parker’s title doesn’t proclaim the article to be an extensive informational column on bloggers. Yet the Error Editor insists that Parker’s article is “all” there is to know about those who blog, when the article itself is an ad hominem editorial classifying the typical blogger as spoiled, undisciplined, lacking in wisdom and civility, immature, and better off ignored than read.

Anticipating that most Journalistic Error readers won’t bother to read an article on a seemingly irrelevant non-local issue by a conservative Florida columnist, Error’s Editor sums up “Lord of the Blogs” with her own propagandist subtitle, “Beware and resist the ego-gratifying pack that contributes only snark, sass and destruction.” That subtitle, although attributed to Ms. Parker in the Journalistic Error, is at best a paraphrase of Ms. Parker’s elegant prose near the end of her article: “But we should beware and resist the rest of the ego-gratifying rabble who contribute only snark, sass and destruction.”

The following questions must be asked. Why the subtle word change? Does the Journalistic Error simply prefer the word "pack" to "rabble" or is it something more clever and sinister than that? Could the Fairy Street Editor (whose favorite color is yellow) be subliminally insinuating that local bloggers are closer to wolves in the evolutionary spectrum than they are to civil humans who routinely vote in favor of police millages and read every word in the Journalistic Error as bona fide fact?

Does she wish to manipulate Parker’s words to match her own reality in Broken Springs where a “pack” of critical citizens have set up blogs and reported on the inadequacies of her weekly rag?

If (one can only hope) the Error truly feels threatened by these local blogs, does Pullanhertoe… condone the suppression of ideas and opinion in the online world? And lastly, if all this is true, shouldn’t she be checking the Iranian Want Ads for her next editorial job?


Another error in the Journalistic Error’s edition of the blog flog fluff piece is in the line “Likewise, many bloggers see the destruction of others for their own self-aggrandizement.” The actual article states, “Likewise, many bloggers seek the destruction of others for their own self-aggrandizement.” This lackluster news editing (carried on throughout every issue) flies in the face of most high grammatical standards in the newsprint world. The Error may defend the Broken Springs Police but apparently it enjoys running afoul of the grammar police. To be fair to Ms. Pullanhertoe.., much of her time is taken up by being on the Board of His Directory for Operation Christmas Care Bear and the Chamber of Combust. The spring vacations to Florida beaches are awfully time consuming, as well.

An entire half page was wasted in the reprinting of Parker’s article, which could have been read fresh off the page three months ago on the Op-Ed page of the Herald Republican at a cheaper newsstand price. The space in the Error could and should have been better utilized, perhaps by printing another letter to the editor praising Chief Kingston, or maybe with an architectural sketch of the soon to be renovated Broken Springs downtown area.

In any event, three cheers for the Journalistic Error and its infamous Yellow Editor for once again drawing attention to renegade blogs like News From Broken Springs and the BS Underground Reader. Our traffic thanks you.

BS Cops Saluted

The Broken Springs Opportunist Club recently recognized three local officers at the First Annual Cop Hop, held in the basement of the Foo King Chinese Restaurant Saturday night. The event, part square dance and part donut social, had as its theme “Officer Dedication to Looking Busy.”

All three officers are from the Broken Springs Police Department, where they work diligently to keep lawbreakers off the streets of Broken Springs and donuts off the shelves of Krispy Kreme. They were selected by community members, local politicians, and Christmas Care Bear donators.

Those honored were: Police Chief Jim Kingston, Deputy Daniel Shame, and patrolman Keith Mauve.

“A gentleman in the streets, but a freak in the station.”

A veteran of the department, Chief Kingston is known for his clown like antics in the office, yet on the job, he’s as serious as the heart attack he isn’t planning to have in a couple years. Off the beat, he’s constantly telling politically incorrect jokes containing hilarious racial slurs, making off the cuff flirtatious remarks around his office staff, and dropping fake spiders in the urinals. Once, he even gave his shy, dedicated secretary a pair of edible panties for a Christmas gag gift, only to have the undergarment (or what was left of them) be discovered by his wife as she emptied out his pockets. “The entire office got a good laugh,” Kingston reminisces with a wry smile, “But Cherry didn’t see the humor. To make it up to her, I had to buy her a thong for her birthday. I wrapped a diamond ring in it just to be on the safe side. Unfortunately she didn't know the ring was in there when she tried the thong on. In retrospect, it's pretty funny. But at the time, let's just say I'm grateful we had a good proctologist.”

Not only is Kingston a cautious forward thinker, as demonstrated above, but he’s also a philanthropist, determined to better the world through his organization’s charitable works that he pawns off to other people. Operation Christmas Care Bear is over a decade old, yet still in its infancy as far as state registration is concerned. Under the leadership of Chief Kingston, this fine charity has collected hundreds to thousands of unaccounted for cash, some of which has even been handed out to the local poor and other eligible citizens. The charity has been second to none in gaining local publicity, usually via newspaper articles about state investigations into its legality. What a clever and cunning strategy this is to attain free advertisement for what is in reality little more than a slush fund. In this way, Chief Kingston has demonstrated himself to be an ingenious entrepreneur.

"Not entirely heartless."

Deputy Daniel Shame, an 8 year veteran on the force whose hair color indicates a much longer period of time, was recognized for his ability to spot a flock of prostitutes from a mile away. No matter where ladies of the evening loiter, Shame has a nose for sniffing out the red light district. He’s also entrapped many of them in the back of his patrol car, and hauled them off to a cold jail cell but not before a bit of complimentary necking that gives the prostitutes a sense of welcome in Broken Springs. Is it any wonder why so many hookers decide to come back to our fair streets, night after night, only to be hauled off to jail time and time again? Surely, Officer Shame has enticed them into appreciating our quaint village, the view of which is beautiful out of his squad car ‘s back window.

"It’s a bird, it’s a plane… nope, it’s too short."

Not only has Shame demonstrated superb people skills, but he also has the highest pull over rate on the department. On any given night, he averages 533 pull overs in an 8 hour shift, half of which are either minors or minorities. And his ticket to pull over ratio is the best among his colleagues. He averages a ticket every 1.45 traffic stops, whether the ticket bearer violated any laws or not. These impressive numbers have earned Shame the nickname Superman within the department. He hands out violations faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than our Mayor’s flatulence after dinner at Taco Bell.

Shame has also taken the initiative to personally hone his target skills at a local private residence in Broken Township, which has improved his aim in case he ever has to fire his gun while on duty. While his extra curricular activities came under much scrutiny by the Police Commission and out of town news reporters, the Broken Springs Opportunists Club presented him with a certificate of achievement for going above and beyond the call of duty. Not everyone would insist on perfecting their skills under their own motivation like Shame continually does.

“Idly protecting”

Patrolman Keith Mauve, known to the force for his incredible Police Academy credentials, was acknowledged for his practicality and pragmatism while on the job. He has set state records for his mile per gallon achievements. On average, his patrol car gets an incredible 52 miles per gallon, which helps offset the budgetary splurges elsewhere. Officer Mauve’s selflessness helps avoid the unnecessary purchase of expensive gasoline, which will assist in the future purchase of tasers and Keno tickets. The secret, Mauve insists, is in the idle. Once on duty, he quickly drives to the Subweigh Sandwich Shop (making sure to obey the speed limits and use his turn signals, of course) where he patrols US 31 from the comforts of his car seat. With last year's Christmas bonus, Mauve purchased a down filled pillow that he insists helps ward off seat sores. Every two hours, he shuts off his car’s engine, thusly conserving even more fuel. If it’s an especially cold Michigan day, he builds a small fire in the passenger seat by rubbing two sticks together, a little trick he learned as a Boy Scout. Mauve’s sense of frugality also helps keep his squad car almost entirely maintenance free, except for the customary breakdowns that one expects from a Chevrolet.

Officer Mauve was also saluted for his gender appreciation in the workplace, most notably demonstrated in his proficiency for putting down the toilet seat in the station's unisex bathroom.




All three officers received certificates of achievements and cop bobbleheads to put on their dashboards to show off their illustrious accomplishments.

Rapist on the Loose

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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.’”

NFBS's Crime of the Week

Chocolate Thunda was the case they gave me!

This week's crime of the week comes from the files of the Broken County Department of Records. At approximately 3:22 PM on Friday, December 16, 2005, a relatively unknown author by the name of Sore Throat (a.k.a. White Throat, Cut Throat, and Scratchy Throat) posted a message on a relatively unknown web site called the Broken Springs Straight Shooter.

In this Internet posting, the author accuses several news sources of ineptitude due to their inability to deliver a news story. After an investigation of the web address in question, it appears the author of this and only five other Internet postings on the web address in question, is guilty of the same crime, that is the failure to deliver news stories in a timely basis. A review of the postings reveals that the author suffers from long windedness and an addiction to the interview process. In the last posting marked Wednesday, February 1, 2005, the shady “Throat” asserts that Chief Kingston has signed a book deal, a preposterous allegation because everyone knows that the Chief‘s local public education disqualifies him from literacy.

Crime Starters is seeking the person or persons conspiring, authoring, and posting entries on the "Broken Springs Straight Shooter" blog site for failure to satirically profit from the local political times in Broken Springs. Anyone with information on this Pseudo Throat and the blog site in question is asked to sign the guest book of the "News from Broken Springs" blog site. As always, you will be given a free doughnut and we won't misspell your name!

Chief Kingston's Doughnut Testers to Assist the President

By: Chocolate Thunda baby! Shaken, Not Stirred!

In an unexpected move, the Mistawalka Police Department has decided that they will not assist the United States Manly Secretion Service in protecting the president when he arrives on Thursday in this area. MPD officers stated in a release, “Due to the tight budget this fiscal year, it would be unfair to expect the city to pay overtime to officers for something that the federal government should already be able to handle.” They also added that the reason the budget is so tight is because of the President’s tax cuts to the superrich, which has strapped the state of Indiana for much of their needed revenue.

It’s much the same story north of the border in Michigan, where police departments struggle to stay under budget and fund mandatory expensive electric surveillance programs under orders from Homeland Security. In Broken Springs, where a millage renewal will come to a vote later this year, reserve officers attending the Police Academy cannot even afford schooling without help from the taxpayers. Despite these financial hardships, all Broken Springs police officers and village employees recently received 3% pay raises. And nearly all of them have jumped at the opportunity to assist our able President.

Just as guaranteed as my tomorrow morning bowel movement, those who crawl up the thin blue line that separates corruption from money laundering in Broken Springs have offered to replace Mistawalka’s police absence. Also known as the Doughnut Testers of America, Chapter 3901, Broken Springs Police Department has volunteered to glad-hand with the Commander-in-Chief. The most powdered and powerful of the department, Chief King-Ding-a-Ling himself, made the following statement about the assignment with the US Manly Secretion Service. "I feel that our over-vacationed, over-eatin‘, under-worked department has a real chance to shine and prove to all the Troublemakers, Shallows, and Supervisors out there that we‘re good at something other than eating doughnuts and Subweigh Sandwiches." The chief continued, "With the opportunity to get more money for the department, we can get more items that we want but don't need like tas... er I mean manuals on proper race relations. Once we figure out how to use the tas.. er I mean Electrical Correctional Equipment, the troublemakers of this fine Village/Metropolis will learn to submit to my every whim!" He then laughed evilly.

As if that wasn't enough, Sheriff Paul Bunion then walked in and pushed Chief Eats-a-Glazed away from the mic. Putting one arm to the forehead of Kingston while the Chief violently swung for all his worth, Broken County’s Bottom Feeder pipes up. "On behalf of the Broken County Sheriff's Department also known as Doughnut Testers of America, Regional Chapter 54, I accept your nomination for the seat of head jelly fil...umm… oh crap...wrong speech...one moment here, it has got to be somewhere. Jimmay, What did you do with daddy's speech? Oh, here it is, here we go. OK, on behalf of the Broken County Sheriff's Department, we also would like to extend our support to the United States Manly Secretion Service because those commie Mistawalka City Police pansies will not show up on Thursday. The benefits of being able to balance my nine million dollar budget and have some left over to purchase the retard helmets I need would do wonders for the department. I believe that once you see what small town police communities can do, the people will have no choice but to elect me to another four years and Jimmay and I can continue the hunt down those Red Troublemakers at no extra expense to the taxpayer."

There was some more yapping of the jaw as Jimmay and Boss Hawg insisted that there is no crime in Broken County, thanks to them. Meanwhile, someone in the press corps, (assumedly from the Herald Pollution) jumped up with the news that their wallet was missing. So while Chief Kingston took a description of the wallet and scribbled down the poor sap’s soon to be maxed out credit card numbers, Sheriff Bunion babbled on and I fell into an alcohol induced coma. When I woke up, Bubba was hugging me saying, "You got such a pretty mouth!"

Oh Crap! Did Jimmay deputize me as the one and only Chocolate Thunda? Did I drink just a little too much at the Broken Springs Watering Whore and pass out at the Press Conference? Will Jimmay get his...Taz...ers? Will I stop trying to freak you, the reader, out with possible bad endings? Well, one thing’s for sure! I need to stop because this call to Shallow Throat is costing her nine dollars and twenty cents a minute. Until I get bonded, don't drop the soap!

Brokeback Springs Chapter Two

Continued from Chapter One

---

The criminal suspects who lived out at Brokeback Springs had vehicles entering and exiting their premises day in and day out. Shane Del Mar and Jimmy Twist worked twelve hour shifts surveying the driveway, armed with a pair of dirty binoculars and a notebook and pencil with which to record license plate numbers and car models. A week into their month long stakeout, they cut their shifts to daylight hours only, since they never could see anything in the dark anyway. The other half of the day they spent sleeping, eating, drinking, and dancing.

At first they only danced with the horses, and only after they’d drank too much tequila. Jimmy would sing a little and Shane would play his harmonica, but Shane wasn’t particularly skilled at blowing on organs, so Jimmy would often rip the harmonica away from Shane and teasingly threaten to pitch it into the fire. The younger cop would always get his instrument back, however, on the condition that he wouldn’t lay a lip on it.

Instead, he laid his lips elsewhere. Around the butts of Marlbaro Red Full Flavors. On spoonfuls of baked beans cooked over the open flame. On the aluminum cans of PBR, “a man’s beer,” as Jimmy called it. He even once laid his lips on Jimmy Twist’s cheek after Jimmy told him the story of a dog he had as a child. As he recounted how the pup had chased a squirrel into the road, only to be run over by a lime colored Volkswagon, a slow tear crept down Jimmy’s face. In a moment of brotherly compassion, Shane wiped that tear away and gave his friend and colleague a warm, soft kiss on the cheek. Neither one thought it was gay because it wasn’t. Well, maybe it was a little. But they were both drunk and a bit too stoned to think about it. To them it seemed natural as they both covered their swelling genitalia.

To be continued...