Burt Reynolds Lives Like a Princess

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Vol 30 Issue 05

Instant Gratification Sped Up

WASHINGTON, DC—Bowing to the demands of the American people, U.S. officials sped up instant gratification yesterday, making wish fulfillment more immediate than ever before. "Although gratification has been instant ever since the early '70s in this country," said William Lawson, chair of the National Gratification Investigatory Committee, "many Americans were still complaining it just wasn't fast enough." According to Lawson, from now on, gratification will actually be faster than instantaneous, occuring some .002 milliseconds before desire is even felt.

Film To Be Made Into John Grisham

OXFORD, MS—According to entertainment industry insiders, Columbia Pictures' 1995 courtroom thriller, The Witness, will soon be made into noted fiction writer John Grisham. The story of a blind boy who hears a racially charged murder take place in a Washington, DC coffee shop, The Witness will become a six-foot-one, 190-pound, best-selling lawyer-turned-author with a penchant for writing gripping page-turners set in the legal world. "We believe this recent box-office smash will make a great Oxford, Mississippi-based author," said David Rudner, Columbia Pictures' spokesperson. "The gripping dialogue and nail-biting trial scenes should have people who meet Grisham on the edge of their seats." The Witness: The Human Being is due out in July of '97.

Area Panties In A Bunch

CROSS PLAINS, GA—According to police, a pair of area panties was discovered yesterday all wound up in a bunch and badly in need of some loosening. "Whoever owned these panties," Cross Plains Police Chief Jonathan Norcross said, "obviously needed to relax. Failure to chill out is the number one reason so many panties get bunched in this country each year." Though the panties investigation is still pending, Norcross denied rumors of a connection between yesterday's incident and a pair of Atlanta-area undies discovered last Sunday in a bundle.

Jews To Celebrate Rosh Hashasha Or Something

JERUSALEM—Jews the world over are preparing to celebrate Rosh Hashanukah or something this weekend, the traditional Jewish holiday marking some sort of rebirth and new beginning, or maybe the Jews' liberation from some foreign ruler 55,000 years ago. "Rash Kishansha is a very holy time for the Jewish people," said Paul Castellano, a guy from Houston whose gastroenterologist is Jewish. "I think Dr. Futterman said it's the holiday where they light that chandelier and blow that horn." Lasting 12 days, Ran Hosea is followed by Yor Kiplach, the Festival of Sand, during which no buttered bread may be eaten in remembrance of the flooding of the ancient Temple of Hosea.

Nike to Cease Manufacturing Products

BEAVERTON, OR—Citing creative confinement and a desire to focus exclusively on what it does best, the Nike Corporation announced Monday it will cease manufacturing athletic shoes and other sports-related merchandise in order to devote itself fully to the creation of state-of-the-art television advertisements.

Local Teen Slated to Masturbate Furiously

SALEM, IN—In a move designed to relieve several years of pent-up sexual frustration, area teen Jeremy Royce is slated for fever-pitched, white-hot masturbation later this evening.

MTV Launches 'Rock the Census' Campaign

NEW YORK—With four years to go before 2000, MTV is already launching a campaign designed to ensure widespread Generation X participation in the decennial national census survey.
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    The arrival of summer means that the nation’s beaches will soon be crowded with swimmers, tanners, surfers, and more, so it’s important for everyone to be conscious of each other’s space and needs. Here are some etiquette tips to ensure that everyone has a safe and relaxing time at the beach:

Burt Reynolds Lives Like a Princess

I've interviewed scores of Hollywood stars, but I never took them at anything more than face value, especially Burt Reynolds. I never guessed the truth behind this model of masculinity, whose virile mustache has lit a fire in the dreams of countless lovelorn. But who would have guessed that his mustache hides a pretty pout? Who would have guessed that Burt Reynolds, manly star of Cannonball Run and Sharky's Machine, lives like a princess?

When I pull into the driveway of Burt's oceanfront mansion, I expect to be greeted at the door by Burt and perhaps be offered a beer. Instead, I'm escorted down chandelier-lit hallways by a wigged man in a frock coat and tights, who explains to me in hushed tones that certain preparations are still being made. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a chamber filled with bustling attendants, running to and fro in a storm of perfume and hairbrushes. In the center of the room sits a figure in a silk corset whose face is hidden from me. I am moved along.

As I wait in the garden outside, I enjoy the blooming roses and the rushing water of a splendid fountain. I sip peppermint tea, and cool garden breezes caress my skin. But these luxuries are quickly forgotten as the air is filled with the dulcet soprano voice of Burt Reynolds, singing softly.

After a rustle of petticoats announces his appearance, Burt steps into the garden. Resplendent in a pink velvet gown, he extends a bejeweled hand. "Enchanté," he whispers, and we sit in the shade of a spreading magnolia.

"I'd like to show you something," he says, pulling a flower from an ornate golden case. "This is a magic blossom—with one sniff, you can smell what anyone in the kingdom is cooking! Would you believe I got it from a swineherd for 10 kisses?" We both laugh over this charming anecdote. But when I ask about his past, Burt grows solemn.

"I had three older sisters who hated me, for I was the prettiest child," he says. "They made me slave away in the kitchen, and called me names. Horrible names, like 'stupid goose' and 'scullery girl.' I longed to escape from that life, and with the financial success of Smokey and the Bandit, I did."

"I am happy," he says, with a touch of sadness in his voice. "But sometimes I wonder what the world is like beyond my garden wall."

After gifting me with one more lovely song, Burt regretfully announces he is retiring. I join him half an hour later in his private bedchamber.

He begins to thank me for coming, but is distracted by some sort of discomfort. Even with a dozen mattresses piled on his canopy bed, he cannot relax. Melancholy swells from his pretty eyes as he weakly tosses and turns. Suddenly, his problem becomes clear to me. I carefully reach underneath the mattresses and pull out a single pea.

Gratitude floods Burt's face, and he allows me to kiss his hand before he sinks into slumber. I am led to the front gate, where a carriage awaits me. I am filled with sadness at leaving Burt Reynolds, and I find myself wishing I could stay with this precious soul in his castle by the sea forever.

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