Last week, Dennis the Spider had his web damaged when a twister, the size of a bowling trophy, touched down near his home.  He filed a damaged property claim with his insurance company, WormHole Square Mutual.  Unfortunately, his claim was denied.

                      “Basically, they rejected my claim because the contractor who installed my web did not get the required building permits approved by the city inspector,” Dennis said.

                  In addition, as a policy, WormHole Square Mutual does not cover damages to property that has been spun with spider silk imported from China… and has a Frank Lloyd Wright vibe in the design.

                     “They claimed the spider silk from China didn’t meet code.  But that’s just some corporate bullshit they said to get out of paying my claim,” Dennis says.  “I would have spun the goddamn silk myself, but I’ve got a silk gland problem, my doctor says.   I try, but the only stuff that shoots out of me is a blend of silk that is forty percent polyester, fifty percent tweed, and about ten percent pubic hair.  It’s not strong enough, like real silk, to hold up to the elements.  Who wants to fall through the kitchen floor at midnight getting a midnight snack of insect wings?”

                  In addition to the cost to repair his web, Dennis was also seeking to recoup other costs related to the property damage.  Unfortunately, he was not reimbursed for those costs either.

                  “Okay, so this is all about the fact that I’ve been getting complaints from the HOA for not paying my dues on time,” says Dennis.   “Aaaaand for leaving dead ants and flies outside in my web, often for more than two weeks at a time.   Okay, guilty as charged.  But what the hell does WormHole Square Mutual have to do with how I deal with my HOA?  It’s none of their goddamn business!  First, they hassle me about having Bianco tile in my foyer and now this?”

               Dennis has since begun a regiment of testosterone, vitamins B1 through B12, and binge watching the old TV show Adam 12, and plans to spin his own webs in the future.

                                    Achard Tartton, 47, a dragonslayer from the upper west side, has been singled out by his family as having serious hoarding issues.   And although Achard’s one bedroom apartment is overrun with excessive amounts of wagon wheels, water buckets goblets, and dead dragons, he is adamant that he doesn’t have a problem.

                           “Okay, sure, maybe I’ve got so much stuff crammed in here that I can’t get into the bathroom to use the chamber pot without using a car jack and a forklift,” Achard says.  “But that’s not hoarding.  That’s bad Feng Shui.  Nothing a few potted plants and strategically placed area rugs can’t fix.”

                     “Achard has all of the symptoms of the classic hoarder,” says therapist, Julie Winters.  “Denial, first of all, and the need to bring more useless stuff into the environment, like old threadbare horse saddles, termite infested, treadless wagon wheels and VHS copies of The Walking Dead, which only exacerbates things.  And most hoarders, like Achard, have dead animals and dead zones of Netflix reception scattered around the space.  And this goes along with their general substandard level of dental hygiene.  In addition, the inability to complete a basic crossword puzzle without the help of  a wizard, like Merlin, or a Strayer University graduate is very common.”

                    Julie has been working with Achard, trying to convince him to throw out some of his clutter.  But Achard insists that everything in his apartment serves a viable purpose in his life, including mega-stacks of items in his kitchen, which include Shaq sneakers and rotary phones.

 

                   Last Tuesday, Dudley Spates, 44, purchased a pair of boxer shorts from a local thrift store.  A week later he had some serious misgivings about his purchase.

               “The problem wasn’t the itchy, hairy, red sores that formed on and around my man-junk about ten minutes after I put on the shorts,” Dudley says.  “Not only did I have crabs and all types of what not creatures in my shorts… I had a few small lobsters, and a crayfish wearing a FUBU jacket in there too.  I know it’s hard to believe.  But I had the authorities check it and sure enough the FUBU jacket was authentic.  But the main gripe I have is that the boxers have some stripes missing from the pattern on one side, and it makes it very difficult to attract women.  I don’t know, I think the asymmetrical vertical stripes have some kind of negative, psychological, subconscious affect on women that makes them shy away from me… in droves.”

                  Dudley scratches his forehead, and then his private area, continues.

                “I mean, I’m a risk taker.   I like to gamble and I’m frugal, so the thrift store was the perfect place to buy underwear.  I didn’t even wash then before I put them on.  But these boxers are killing my love life.  I’m forty-four.  I should’ve been married by now.  Or at least engaged.  Or at least befriended on FaceBook by any random stranger with an open mind, closed eyesight, low self-esteem, and rock-bottom expectations.”

              Worst of all, Dudley is unable to remove the boxer shorts because of some residual adhesive along the waist band that has merged into his skin.

                  “I’ve tried everything to get these damn shorts off, but nothing works.   Solvents didn’t work.  Sandblasting didn’t work.  And the exorcism was ineffective because the boxers are more than 50% polyester.”

                        For now… Dudley’s love life remains on hold.

                                   Last month, a local fast food restaurant installed a Jousting ONLY drive-thru pick up window.   Unfortunately things have not worked out quite as well as the restaurant owner had planned.

                       “The idea was to save on rental space by making the drive-thru lane narrower,” says, owner, Deanna Flores.   “And to make the line move faster by having only horses running through the lane non-stop.   The first problem we discovered was that not a lot of our customers even had horses.  We had folks coming thru the lane on mules, ponies, seahorses, and even horseflies, but not many on actual horses.   So we loosened our restrictions and allowed anyone coming through the drive-thru riding any type of horse-related beast to be served.”

          Ms. Flores looks regretfully at the remnants of the drive-thru, continues.   “But then we started having other problems too.  Legal problems.  Lois Cartright, our lead cashier, was impaled when she failed to close the drive-thru window prior to giving a customer back change.  Johnny Blazo, another cashier, lost his right eye when he misjudged a bag exchange.  And then he lost his left eye when the customer came back to get some extra packs of ketchup.  Tragic.  He was going to school to become a film director in the domesticated poultry porn industry.  ???????   Then Johnny Blazo sued us.  His contention was that the restaurant was negligent for not providing him with an appropriate suit of armor while he was on duty.   Nonsense, because we provided all of our drive-thru workers with a sturdy baseball cap, fitted with a sun visor made of recycled plastic from our very own individually wrapped cheese slices.”

                   Ultimately the Jousting ONLY drive-thru window failed and the restaurant filed for chapter 13 bankruptcy.   However, Johnny Blazo’s lawsuit against Ms. Flores was dismissed when the judge in the case ruled that two functioning eyes were not required for work as a director in the domesticated poultry porn industry.

                Yesterday, Alan Cole, 45, reported some very unusual side effects after receiving the Covid-19 vaccine.

                 “Well, everything was fine… and then about six hours after I got the vaccine, both of my forearms started swelling up, like, four times their normal size,” Mr. Cole says.   “And then for no apparent reason, I started eating spinach like crazy.  And then I felt a burning desire to become a sailor… or to cuss like one… or at least learn how to tie a fucking anchor hitch knot, for fuck’s sake.   That was quickly followed by the urge to smoke a pipe.  Again, for no fucking apparent reason what so motherfucking ever.  Odd.   In addition, I had this urgent taste for some extra virgin olive oil, so I would drink a ton of that.   After which,  I felt this strange, uncontrollable urge to have sex with skinny, flat-chested bitches.  And finally, my appetite to eat spinach grew even more intense, so I would put some of that extra virgin olive oil on top of that shit.  Only to find out the olive oil was not so extra virgin at after all.  After which, I would go forth and beat the living shit out of any fat guy with a bushy moustache that I saw.  Again, for no goddamn apparent reason at all.”

            Mr. Cole did report one additional, significant side effect of note.

             “So… there was another fucked-up, consequential thing that happened to my ARM after I got the Covid-19 vaccine,” Cole says.   “My Adjustable Rate Mortgage increased by .3%.  Ain’t that a bitch!”

 

 

 

           Today, Yosemite Sam cancelled his NRA membership, citing America’s senseless gun violence, politics, and a need to disassociate himself from the terrible acting of Charleston Heston in the movie The Ten Commandments, as the reasons.

        “Truth be told, they was about to cancel my membership anyways due to non-payment,” Yosemite says.   “Times are tough and dagnabbit, I’ve got better things to spend my money on instead of a highfalutin organization that actively fights against sensible gun control.  From now on I’m going to spend my money on practical stuff like, roller coaster rides, anger management classes, undistilled moonshine, moustache waxes, and the thrill of hookers, my height, who are also too short to get on roller coaster rides.”

         In the interim, Yosemite researched and tried to come up with a suitable replacement for his arsenal of pistols.

         “I considered a number of different weapons to deal with varmints including a tank, a rocket launcher, and various anvils loaded with explosives.  But before I got a chance to get it on, so to speak, with my weapons, I was served with a Cease and Desist letter from a certain Coyote who will go unmentioned.”

                 Yosemite has since chosen a rather large machete as his weapon of choice.

        “This big knife is a lot quieter than my guns, and I never have to reload.  Downside is…  it’s a bit bulky.  It drags the ground when I walk, and it’s a lot harder to sneak it through the TSA airport security people than my old musket and UZI.  But I still got the best of both worlds,” Yosemite says.  “My machete provides me with protection against the various rascals out here.   And with it I can still exercise my right to bear arms.  And here’s a bonus;  everytime I say machete, I get the sensation of Danny Trejo searching for his keys in my pants pockets.”

              Last month, Howard the Turtle, sold his shell, bought a shipping container and has made it his new home.

                      “My old shell didn’t have quite enough room to accommodate my newly acquired hobbies, which include indoor pole dancing, Jello wrestling, and speed chess,”  Howard says.

                Howard’s old shell home was only four square feet.   He looked at other types of metal container homes with more space, including, an empty coffee can, a mailbox, an old Kenmore washing machine, and the dumpster behind the 7/11 on South Broadway.  Howard found those housing options unsatisfactory, especially the washing machine and the dumpster.

          “The fabric softener made me itch and the spin cycle gave me vertigo.  And frankly, I wasn’t crazy about the dumpster’s location.  And the rumors about the rats who bombastically debate the aphorisms and irony of Nietzsche, in the alley, late into the night, was a real concern.”

           Howard’s new shipping container home has a total of one hundred and sixty square feet of living space.

                   “My old home was basically a one bedroom studio apartment.  I sold it to a hermit crab who was also looking to upgrade to a larger living space,” Howard says.  “It was a relatively smooth legal transaction, except for the excessive realtor’s commission, and the part where they had to surgically detach the shell from my back, which created a gaping hole and exposed some damaged shingles.  Which made my home owners and health insurance rates shoot through the roof!”

                 Shipping container homes have become very popular over the past several years.

             “I love my new home,” Howard says.   “It’s located on great beach front property and it’s roomy enough to accommodate the thousands of turtle hatchlings that emerge every summer.   There are a few downsides, however.  Because it’s a big metal box, it basically becomes an oven in the summertime.  And I have to crank up the AC full blast to keep from becoming turtle soup.  In addition, because my home is a big, metal box, it’s been struck by lightning thirty-six times… this week.”

                  Yesterday, Travis Belcher, a bar of soap, filed a complaint with the WormHole Square Labor Commission under the Occupational Health And Safety Act, citing unreasonable and hazardous working conditions.

                   “My work assignment was to wash a three hundred and fifty pound sumo wrestler,”  Mr. Belcher says.  “I’ve had jobs in the past that put me in some dangerously, nasty places like, Afghanistan, where I had to scrub the hands of Afghan opium, poppy farmers, inside a horse trough, while being shot at by the Taliban.  I’ve also had to scrub the hands and faces of Iraqi oil well workers, inside a wishing well tainted by fracking and the bathwater runoff of Saddam Hussein.  That’s right, a nickel would get you clean hands and a hope and a prayer of living to age thirty.  And a dime would get you a clean buttocks and hopes of  living to age thirty-one.”

              Mr. Belcher remembers, drops his head with residual dread, continues.

              “But this sumo wrestler washing gig was by far the worse.  I mean – working conditions that were so dark, dank, and confined, with unbearable humidity so wet and heavy that only a mosquito in a scuba suit could survive.  All this after the guy had just finished a sumo wrestling match that went into triple overtime.   Operating in those tight, grimy, crevices was like navigating through a crack-alley in Baltimore City at midnight,” Belcher laments.  “We’re also talking sweaty arm pits lined with enough hair to upholster a full-sized futon.  And I’m not one hundred percent sure… but I think the guy had at least three asses.   I’m not sure that’s even legal outside of the state of Georgia.”

            Mr. Belcher’s complaint is still under review by OSHA investigators at this time.

 

                               Yesterday, at approximately 1:45 PM, a velociraptor who was disguised as the Monopoly Man, breached WormHole Square High School and attacked substitute teacher, John Lacy.

                                “Honestly, I thought it was one of the students, at first,” says Mr. Lacy.  “You know, because of the violent nature of the attack and because the assailant had very bad grammar.”

                Eyewitness accounts suggest that the School Police Officers were derelict in their duties at the time of the attack.

               “Not true,”  says School Police Officer, Randy Ruckleshouse.  “I was in the cafeteria at the time of the incident, weighing the pros and cons of ordering something on the menu that vaguely resembled meat loaf.  When the distress call came over the radio, I did what any highly trained professional cop would do.  I ordered the meat loaf… with gravy.”

                     And there are a lot of questions as to how the velociraptor gained entry into the school in the first place.  A velociraptor with no ID, sporting a vintage moustache and wearing a top hat?  Really?  Who let this creature into the school?  Again, eyewitness accounts point to lax security screening by School Police.

               “Not true,”  again says School Police Officer, Ruckleshouse.  “How was I suppose to know that thing wasn’t a student?   Yeah, he had a moustache, but most of the kids in this school have been left back so many times, they all have moustaches.  Even the girls!”

                      Mr. Lacy, who was grading papers at the time of the attack, says the whole ordeal has him second guessing whether or not he wants to continue being a substitute teacher.

                    “I just don’t know if I have what it takes to be a teacher at the high school level anymore,” Lacy says.  “I’ve become jaded and… well, not having arms is going to make certain requirements like, lesson plans, pointing to the blackboard and beating erasers, a challenge.  I took this job because I thought it was be safer than my old gig, which was disarming WWII floating mines.   Sure, I thought I might get shanked by one of the students, shot up by a deranged psychopath… or forced to sit through a PSTA meeting in its entirety.  But I never imagined getting mauled by a highfalutine miniature T-rex.”

                      The velociraptor in question is believed to be the same creature who has previously attacked an eighty-eight year old grandmother, a pimp, an Amish man, and a subway performer.  The velociraptor was last seen running through the school’s cafeteria, where it avoided the meat loaf and exited through a side, emergency door.

                      Last week, NASA’s rover Perseverance touched down on Mars after a long, six month journey through space.

                 “After spending billions of dollars on this mission, the dryer sock I lost right after my divorce, was the last thing I expected to see on the surface of Mars,” says Shaun Leonard, director of NASA’s Planetary, Rocketship, and SuperNerds Division.   “Our mission is to find out whether or not life ever existed on Mars.  So far we’ve seen images of dust storms, red rocks, a plasticine George Jetson action figure, and something we believe was once an old Arby’s restaurant.  And a pile of something we have determined to be sandwich meat from that Arby’s, which we believe can now be used as rocket fuel.  We’ve also discovered mineral samples in a dried river basin that, under first examination, suggested that water was once present on the surface of Mars.  But under further evaluation, it was determined that the dried river basin was simply the calcified, bitter tears of millions of Detroit Lions football fans.”

                      The Perseverance Rover is equipped with the latest cutting edge scientific technology, including, X-ray cameras, Air Bags, and an optional Bose sound system.

                “Some parts of the Perseverance rover were assembled with LEGO pieces to help keep the weight and costs down,” says Leonard.  “In addition, the mission was rerouted around the New Jersey Turnpike to avoid addition costs in tolls.”

                    As for the Lost Dryer Sock, Leonard was stunned to see it appearing in images coming from the Perseverance rover into the NASA control room.

                        “I remember that sock well,” he says.  “It started out as a pair of white, mid-calf crew socks.  I remember the last time I wore them.  I was playing Dungeons and Dragons on my day off,  while binge watching the Star Trek Original series, Next Generation, Voyager, Discovery, Enterprise, and the little known spin off, Picard & His Deep Space Nine.”

  “My wife had had enough… of not having enough,” Leonard says.  “So she announced her intention to divorce me.  It was during a scene where Spock finds out his passport has expired.  He was also diagnosed with arthritis in his fingers, putting the Intergalactic Bowling Championship in jeopardy.  Needless to say, I considered her timing extremely insensitive.”

     The Lost dryer sock was last seen running into a crater on Mars called Jezero.  NASA has now lost all visual contact of the sock.