Bereaved

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Goodwill Executives Arrested After Years Of Skimming Donated Goods Off Top

ROCKVILLE, MD—In what authorities are calling one of the most wide-reaching and deplorable cases of embezzlement in recent history, seven executives at Goodwill Industries International were arrested Thursday for allegedly skimming used clothing, old furniture, small appliances, and thousands of other donated items from the charitable group.
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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This Great Song, Bar Sources Report

TOMAH, WI—Pausing their conversations momentarily to call attention to the music playing on the establishment’s jukebox, sources at local bar Shepherd’s confirmed to reporters Friday that this is a great song.

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Bereaved

I hope you are all sitting down, because I have some-thing terrible to impart. No, the President was not assassinated. If only that were the case! The news is far, far sadder. But first, I will string you along with some largely unnecessary details presented in a rambling, discursive manner, so as to build suspense and fulfill my word quota.

Yesterday, the Zweibel Estate was awash in rose-petals and scarlet buntings, because at last I was to receive my beloved sweet-heart, Miss Bernadette Fiske. This day was to be doubly special, for Miss Fiske and I were to be wed in my private chapel. She would become the new Mrs. T. Herman Zweibel and dine on nothing but cream and pheasant, sit upon brocaded cushions, and wear hair-combs fashioned from unicorn-horns! So nervous and anxious was I, every time I heard a foot-step, the contents of my bowels burst forth like the Johnstown Flood. How long I had waited for this wondrous moment–holy matrimony with my lady love! Perhaps she would allow me to call her simply "Bernadette," I thought.

As the day stretched into evening and evening into pitch-black night, I sat up-right in my wheel-chair, dressed–if I may be permitted a vulgarism favored by the youth–"to the nines" in my seersucker courting-suit, my five hairs slicked back with Macassar-oil and my collar starched so stiffly, the top of it was lacerating my neck. Yet Miss Fiske had not yet appeared, even though I had supplied the train and canal-barge fare that would enable her to travel to the Estate.

Gradually, my joy turned to concern, then terror, then impatience, then the deepest fury. The miserable bitch had stood me up once again! She stood me up when we began courting, she stood me up when she was to be introduced to my family, she even stood me up when she became pregnant with my child! What kind of sweet-heart was she, any-way? At the stroke of mid-night, my silent wrath could no longer be restrained. "Standish!" I cried. "Procure the Swiss Guard, the iron-clad, the zeppelin, and the two-headed hound! I want that filthy vamp found, treed, and worried to bits! She'll stand me up no more, by cracky!"

"Indeed she will not, sir," Standish said, a telegram in his hand. "I'm afraid I have bad news, sir. As Miss Fiske was about to board the canal barge to the Estate yesterday, she suddenly swooned. There was a physician present, but he could not save her. The cause of death is believed to have been extreme womanness, brought on by mild exertion. Apparently Miss Fiske was simply too feminine to live, sir."