A Thrilling Climax

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Vol 35 Issue 14

Efforts Of World's 16 Billion Chickens Still Not Adding Up To Much

OMAHA, NE—According to a U.S. Poultry Council report released Monday, the collective efforts of the world's 16 billion chickens have yet to yield any appreciable results. "For thousands of years, chickens worldwide have put a tremendous amount of energy into their various activities, which include flapping, squawking and pecking with a great deal of vigor," the Poultry Council report read. "But it remains unclear what has been accomplished as a result of their unfocused efforts."

Husband Calls For Greater Separation Of Church And Mate

PORTSMOUTH, NH—Citing a disruptive influence on the everyday operation of the Touhy home, Dennis Touhy called Monday for greater separation of New Hope Tabernacle Church and Connie, his mate of 14 years. "It is wholly inappropriate for my wife to become involved in so many church activities at the expense of her role as my mate," Touhy said. "As the first article of our prenuptial agreement clearly states, 'Connie shall not spend every second of her spare time attending choir practices, planning the annual fundraising bazaar and involving herself in other such church activities.' That article has clearly been violated."

Don't Nobody Wanna Hear Area Man Run His Mouth

MACON, GA—According to a recent Gallup Poll, zero percent of Macon residents wanna hear area fool Ricky Baston run his mouth like a all-night bus, and he ain't sayin' nothing anyway. The poll found that don't nobody wanna hear Baston talkin' 'bout, 'I gonna get me a car,' and, 'My old lady been ridin' my ass' and all that. The poll confirms the findings of a recent ABC News/Washington Post phone survey, in which 100 percent of Macon residents described themselves as wanting Baston out they damn face.

Listener Consumed By Spittle On Corner Of Mouth

DOWNERS GROVE, IL—The words of area resident Pete Fargas were lost Saturday on listener Lois Dumas, who was rendered unable to concentrate due to a gob of spittle on the left corner of Fargas' mouth. "He kept talking, and I kept nodding, but I really couldn't focus on anything but the spittle," Dumas said. "I was just hoping he would eventually sense its presence and clear it away with his tongue, but he never did."

Customer Awkwardly Accepts One Cent, Receipt

BERKELEY, CA—Coffeehouse patron Lenny Niyo awkwardly accepted one cent and a receipt Monday after purchasing a $1.99 biscotti. "It made me feel kind of cheap, standing there waiting for six or seven seconds while the receipt printed out and the cashier put away my singles and got the penny, but it would have looked weird if I'd just walked away, too," Niyo said. "It's not like I wanted the receipt. I was sure the biscotti would work out fine." Niyo has reportedly not been this humiliated in a food-service environment since May 1998, when a waiter told him to enjoy his meal and he replied, "You, too."

Destination: Another Level

Baby, you are the one true love of my life. You are the one I dream about both night and day. You are the one who lights the fire of my desire. Also, you have beautiful facial skin.

Breakroom Tension At All-Time High Following Mug Dispute

PHOENIX—Diplomatic measures have failed to ease breakroom tension following Monday's latest mug dispute between Southwest DataTech employees Iris Cole and Steve Mees. "An already tense atmosphere only deteriorated when Iris caught Steve using her mug yet again," an unnamed accounting-department source said. Cole, whose mug features a cartoon bear sleeping next to a sign reading, 'Wake Me When It's Friday!," rejected Mees' excuse that his mug looks similar to hers.
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FIFA Frantically Announces 2015 Summer World Cup In United States

ZURICH—After the Justice Department indicted numerous executives from world soccer’s governing body on charges of corruption and bribery, frantic and visibly nervous officials from FIFA held an impromptu press conference Wednesday to announce that the United States has been selected to host this summer’s 2015 World Cup.

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A Thrilling Climax

Last week, I told you how Standish and I had happened upon my vast fortune in a clearing in the middle of a forest. My joy at finding my precious wealth soon faded, however, when I espied my thieving nemesis, Black Scarlet, cavorting with none other than Mr. Tin, the ro-bot who once served as my nurse.

Faithful readers of the Publisher's Message will recall how, several Christ-mases ago, Mr. Tin fell madly in love with my iron lung and abandoned my employ, wheeling away his beloved with him. Treacherous metal turn-coat! He despised me because I never returned his pathetic entreaties for love and acceptance!

Seething, I could only watch helplessly behind a bush as Black Scarlet and Mr. Tin reveled amongst their ill-gotten gain. As they frolicked, I strained to hear their conversation with my ear-trumpet.

"Tin, my friend," Black Scarlet said, "thanks to you, I have achieved my long-time goal of relieving the vile plutocrat Zweibel of his riches. Many times I have bribed and cajoled his servants to disclose the where-abouts of the swag, but only you knew its precise location. You shall be rewarded handsomely, good ro-bot Tin!"

"How it cheers me to know," Black Scarlet continued, "that old Zweibel is as penniless as those he so cruelly exploited! And now, I will be able to distribute this booty to the deserving home-less and destitute, discard my red-and-black mask, and return to public life once again under my true identity: the lead singer of Queen, Freddie Mercury! No, I did not die in 1991—I went under-ground and assumed the unlikely alias of a saucy, epee-wielding, devil-may-care gentle-man-bandit of the open road!"

I did not understand Black Scarlet's latter remarks, but his cheek so other-wise enraged me that, in a burst of energy the likes of which I have not felt since I was 94, I fought off Standish's restraint and raised myself from my wheel-chair.

"Wretch!" I cried. "You may have stolen my fortune, but you shall not complete your nefarious mission if I have any-thing to do with it! Yes, 'tis I, T. Herman Zweibel, and I have come to reclaim both my dignity and my wealth! Standish, procure the bowie-knife! I shall run this evil-doer through and restore the tarnished Zweibel name to all its lustrous glory! Stand and deliver, scheming black-guard!"

Black Scarlet looked as though he had seen a ghost. But before he could recover, a booming voice and the click of a gun's safety sounded through-out the clearing.

"Sheriff's deputy! Reach for the sky, and don't move!"

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