THE ML WEEKLY NEWS Thursday, November 15, 2001
Rated PIG (Parental Indiscretion Guaranteed) Issue #004
Editor in-chief: The KodeMaster Food Preparer: "Mom!!!!"
Grammer Checker: Sah-Rae Hyjo Content Provider: Micro Hue
THE SAGA CONTINUES
All citizens of MLerville watched with amazement as Sipahigiri reached the 13th chapter late Sunday afternoon. When we walked down what can be loosely described as the Main Street of town and interviewed fellow pedestrians, this proved to be true.
"Wow," someone could only utter in a subdued voice before clarifying, "you actually interview people? Amazing."
"How does she write so fast?" asks one in awe. "I mean, she only started it a few weeks back and now we're more than halfway there!"
Having endevoured to know mathematics just as much as the object of their affection does, those who believe that Benton's A Doll-babe proceeded to question the accuracy of that statement.
Upsetting the moment, the Hadji groupies then roared, "Where's our beloved turbaned-boy and what on Earth happened to Kefira?!"
Throwing punches at the arms of the Hadji groupies, the JJHRers lament, "Hey, we're not the only people going through the wringer, you know!"
Thankfully, before the impending brawl broke out, Ina-chan, who had been observing the proceedings in quaint amusement, looked up with a face full of horror and points wildly, "Oh, no! Mike Green!"
All of the Action/Adventurers who had been converted from their heathen ways to the ranks of the HRers then shot their startled heads up out of the crowd that had previously been on verge of riot.
They hastily fetched their disused flamethrowers to shout crazily, "Mike Green?! Where's that piece of scum?!?"
Others in the crowd then showed the ex-Action junkies pictures of their bathrooms and state that they'd be happy to show them something even scummier than Mike Green if they only get out a mop, bucket and dishcloth.
The majority of the Action people responded to this with a great deal of confusion since they usually invite their parents over and calmly yet forcibly insist that they do it for them. "Scum?? What scum?" the group utters whilst squinting at the pictures. "That's not scum!"
However, realizing that Ina-chan's wild gesture was merely a facade and that the origin of all this was groundless, the crowd soon wizened up and glared firmedly at the person in-question.
Also wizening up, Ina-chan quickly dashed off and escaped from the increasingly restless crowd to live another day.
Others merely click their fingers and sigh, "Killjoy!"
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
(Some material may have been edited or
created due to formatting and other reasons)Dear Editor,
In light of your recent refusal to return the photographs, let this following poem composed at my request -- by someone whose IQ is obviously far greater than yours -- act as a warning to you:
All my foes have screamed and fought,
before they're strung up, and bound and caught.
I'll smear your face with apple-cream pie.
Return it now, or you're gonna die.
Cheerfully toting her gun,
-- Special Agent Wilhelmena Stoker Harkness.
EDITOR'S ROW
Sadly, due to reasons still unknown to this journalist who is filling in for the moment, the Editor recently made a shock disappearance and no-one at the ML Weekly News Building currently knows where on Earth he is... assuming that he is still on the planet, that is.
WEATHER REPORT
In the rush to produce this issue after the events of the previous week's unavoidable communication blockages from a .45 'persuasion device' that was in the hands of a rather annoyed female, this humble paper seems to have mislaid its meteorlogicial experts amidst the confusion which followed.
The culprit of this vile and nefarious mistake is suspected to be our gracious (hacks) Editor (splutters) who, while trying to dial the relevant parties -- during the incident last week that we would prefer not to mention -- actually managed to dial his sleezebag or what is otherwise known as a lawyer.
The order for a pizza with the lot apparently seems to have been interpreted as a demand to fire every single one of our esteemed (and otherwise incompetent) meteorlogicial people.
To their credit, our former weather reporters took the dismissal gracefully and only threatened to burn down our homes if they weren't reinstated. All this was before they were dragged off the scene by men in white coats from Arkham Asylum.
The local fire-brigade is currently awaiting the outcome of the offenders' treatment with a look that can best be described as that of dread.
In the meantime, would anyone care to apply for the now-vacant positions? If you do, please send your application on the back of a snail to our address and we'll reply to you eventually. It may take a millenia or two, but still, we'll get back to you.
Please note for the record, however, that we refuse for the sake of our own health and sanity to admit to our ranks anyone else with clown facepaint and a super-wide grin, dressed up as bats or other strange animals, or those who shout "PIKACHU!" from rooftops. We have enough trouble keeping our editor under control as it is.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH
My sister and I were driving along the other day when she asked me, what would I like for my computer.
I thought long and hard about it, and came up with the following hypothesis. When a girl gets a Barbie doll, she then wants the extra ballgown for the doll, then the hairbrush, and the car, and the house, and the friends etc.
When a guy gets a computer, he wants the extra memory, the bigger hard drive, the maths co-pro, the better motherboard, the latest software, and the bigger monitor etc.
I told my sister all of this, and finished up with : "So as you can see, computers are Barbie dolls for MEN!"
She called me a chauvinist. And hit me. Hard.-- Grant Smith, 19:24, 26/2/94
