Bereaved

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Vol 36 Issue 12

Kitchen Staff Warned Not To Make Fun Of Regional Manager

TRAVERSE CITY, MI–Shift manager Dennis Brandt issued a stern warning to his Bennigan's crew Monday not to make fun of visiting regional manager Gary Wallace. "I'm telling you right up front that Gary has a bit of a weight problem," Brandt told the staff. "So if I see anyone giggling or making fun of him in any way whatsoever, there will be consequences. Got it? Because if he catches any of you laughing, it's me he's gonna go after, not you." The staff has previously received stern warnings not to make fun of the woman with the limp who frequently eats there and the man with the scar who delivers the Coke syrup.

Clinton Fumbles With Submarine Controls; 'Everything's In German!' He Shouts

SOMEWHERE IN THE NORTH SEA–His hand-picked mob of go-to-hell leathernecks counting on him for their very survival, President Clinton tried frantically Monday to make sense of the German-labeled controls of captured Nazi Kreigsmarine Unterseeboot 639. "I can't make head or tail of this Kraut malarkey!" Clinton told mortally wounded Seaman First Class Bruce Cohen, the plucky kid from Brooklyn who heroically fended off Stuka dive-bombers with the deck gun. "We've got to blow the tanks and dive now! Now! What the hell is 'BALLASZTWASSER'?" It is believed to be the most gripping moment of the Clinton presidency since April 1998, when he told unconscious HHS Secretary Donna Shalala, "You've never given up on anything in your life, you bitch, now fight! Fight!"

Man Carefully Selects T-Shirt For Night Out

WILMINGTON, NC–After nearly half an hour of trying on different T-shirts, Wilmington resident Larry Goltz finally settled on a black Peterbilt Trucks shirt for a night on the town Saturday. "I was going to wear my Blockbuster Video T-shirt, but it's white, and I wanted something a little nicer for a Saturday night. Plus, I wore that one when we went bowling Tuesday," Goltz said. "I was also thinking about my plain red one, but for some reason, I was in the mood to wear something with writing on it. And I like the way the Peterbilt logo on the chest draws attention away from my belly." Goltz said he is "99 percent sure" he made the right choice.

Last Month Apparently Women's History Month

ATLANTA–According to an ad in a March issue of Bon Appetit magazine lying around dermatologist Dr. Ira Haas' waiting room, March was, apparently, Women's History Month. "I had no idea," said Gail Travis, who happened to come across the ad, which read, "Join Almay In Celebrating Women's History Month," while waiting to see Haas. "That's the first I'd heard of it. Oh, well, guess I missed it." People across the nation are equally surprised. "Are you sure? I thought it was Black History Month," said Timothy Durkee of Wayzata, MN. "Or maybe that was February." Liz Unger, CEO of Almay Cosmetics and co-chair of the Women's History Month Project, described the month-long celebration of "women's remarkable contributions through the ages" as an "unqualified success."

I Can't Believe I Missed The Oscars!

What sort of entertainment journalist am I? I was all psyched for the Oscars this year, as I am every year. Would Gwenth Paltrow look slim? Would Tom Hanks be sporting his madman beard? Who would take away the Best Adapted Screenplay award? I couldn't wait to find out!

U.S. Population At 13,462

WASHINGTON, DC–With the April 1 deadline for returning Census 2000 forms finally passed, the Bureau of the Census announced Monday that the U.S. population stands at 13,462.
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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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Family

Report: Dad Wants To Show You Where Fuse Box Is

YOUR LOCATION—Noting that it’s important to be prepared in case of emergencies but it’s also a good thing to know in general, your dad announced today that he wants to show you where the fuse box is.

Comedy

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."

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