Belle Eva Unger

 
JULY
 
 

July 7 -- Hello again, my patriotic ones! Most of the details regarding the Fourth of July festivities are featured on pages 1 & 2 of the Sentinel, and even though I do have at least one tale to share, that must wait until after I tell the wonderful news about Billy Clegg.

He got sprung! Billy's hearing took place over in Phelps County this past Friday, and I must say, I now have a new name added to my list of VIP's. That would be one judge named The Honorable Theodore (Todd) Sweeney, who presided over this ridiculous case of Billy's supposed breast fondling. Judge Sweeney, in his infinite wisdom, took one look at the cleavage carried by this accusing PETA lady and promptly dismissed the case for lack of evidence. Isn't that just the most divine slice of common sense ever carved up for us, dear ones?!?! xoxo.

Since I wanted to record for posterity Billy's joy upon his arrival home, I sent my crack reporter to photograph the event. Now, because he is not of legal age to be on my payroll, I've stopped using his real name. He is my "Super-Snooper-Scooper," so I just call him SSS. Those of you who follow my column might remember that SSS recently was instrumental in discovering a long-lost script written by a certain relative of mine, but considering what transpired at Billy Clegg's house, I think it best we protect the identity of my reporter best we can.

Looks like either Billy lost weight while incarcerated, or somebody stretched the tarnation out of his shirt. Anyway, the first sign of trouble can be seen in this photo. Billy appears to be in some sort of pain... like he's got a corn cob stuck up his... well, here, you figure it out.

Whatever the problem, Billy was in such a rush, he didn't bother locking the door behind him, and my well-trained SSS sneaked in for some top-notch, photographic coverage. Neither SSS nor I can tell you what caused all the steam, but SSS says Billy was making sounds like no man should ever make.

Needless to say, Mr. Clegg was not at all pleased to discover somebody was taking photos of his "private" moment.

Billy supposedly packs a very effective left hook, so I'm glad SSS hightailed it out of there. According to SSS, he had no choice. Couldn't tolerate the gag-a-maggot odors coming from that room. Last thing SSS reported hearing was silly Billy in hot pursuit trying to hop down the staircase with his jeans and boxers still at his ankles, and as SSS exited the door, he heard a crash and a rumble, a cursing and a tumble. He also thought he heard a loud pop, but was so far ahead of Billy he couldn't be sure what it was.

Turns out SSS did hear a pop. The sound of Billy's forearm snapping like a twig as he rolled head over heels down the stairs. So much for Billy's happy homecoming. He celebrated at the Meddletonville emergency clinic, and because he has neither insurance nor much cash to speak of, they gave him the economy treatment... which takes us back to square one.

I guess Billy won't be left-hooking anybody anytime soon! xoxo. It's doubtful that towel and rope concoction he got from the emergency/economy fix-it shop will do much for his proper healage, either. Pitiful Billy can't even reach up to adjust his cap. If he lets go the rope, down goes the arm, so please folks, do what you can for him.

Oh, and by the way, let me put out a special notice to Pudge Parker: Mister hot-shot, if you will put your money where your mouth is (or in this case, note-writing), and drop in your promised 50 cents, Billy just might have enough to get a hard cast put on his broken arm (not to mention a stoppage of seepage (-:).

Well, fan my fidgety fanny, it seems I've used up all my column space talking about Billy Clegg. Silly me! Looks like my Fourth of July story will have to wait until next week. So, until then, this is your Around Our Town editor, Belle Eva xoxo.

 

 

July 14 -- Hello to all my fellow Crocker County Meddletonvillians. You know, the world is filled with many wondrous things which started out as anything but... BUT, like the caterpillar no longer satisfied with being a worm confined to limbs of a tree, ugly transforms to beautiful, and taking wing, shares its newfound glory with everything it touches.

Leona Beck proudly informs me that she and husband Albert are now grandparents. Yes, baby Beck is named Kellen by daddy Stewart and momma Jacqueline, and even though newborn white babies are not the least bit cute... what with their red splotches and contorted faces... we all know that within a few days, Kellen Beck will be absolutely adorable. So, Leona, be patient!! xoxo

I promised you some news from our Fourth of July celebration that wasn't covered in the Weekly Sentinel, and here it comes. Seems the trombonist for Harry Hamilton's Hornblowers failed to take my advice regarding too much whiskey too early in the day. Ben "Beanstalk" Nelson was feeling no pain as he wobbled back and forth and side to side. Didn't effect his playing, though. In fact, he was popping those dixieland bottom runs like I've never heard him do before, but then, in between two numbers, Beanstalk reached down to release his spit valve, tipped over backwards while blowing and sprayed everybody in the first few rows with his foul-smelling, whiskey-laden saliva. Combining this with additional odors of his rotten-toothed gum disease, we nearly had us a regurgitation festival right then and there. Good news is, Ben was steadied by his band mates and managed to finish their set. Better news is, that smell soured everybody's appetite for alcohol, thus avoiding all the drunkenness and ugly scenes that come with it. So, thank you Ben!! xoxo

Now, the Sentinel covered our Pie Eating Contest and its bizarre outcome involving six-time defending champion, Pudge Parker. What I didn't know is that even though I'd given him the day off, my crack reporter SSS had his camera with him and took pictures heretofore-neverbefore published. I just love that young man! Some day I'm going to hug him so tight his innards will come a-squishing out of his nose. For now, I'll just give him upper case!!! XOXO!!

Here's Pudge backstage before the event, brimming with patriotism and confidence. GO, PUDGE, GO!!

Pudge was on pace to break his record from last year, downing first a peach pie, and then a raspberry in less than one minute. Then, somewhere in the middle of his third, a blueberry, disaster struck.

At first, everybody got a good laugh. We all figured Pudge was playing games with the other contestants who were still working on their first pie, but by the time SSS snapped the last picture, it became clear something was terribly wrong with Pudge. While we all scrambled to his aid, one cackle continued mocking him from the audience. That would be the one and only epitome of evil, Pudge's newly-made nemesis, Mrs. "Poop-on-a-Stick" Ethyl Veral.

As would come to light after doctors at the Meddletonville Emergency Clinic pumped out Pudge's stomach, Mrs. Veral had for the first time ever donated a pie for the contest... a raspberry... laced with ipecac syrup... and she paid contest coordinator Mona Montague $20 to make sure that pie was in Pudge's line for consumption. Such an awful, AWFUL woman! Ethyl Veral gladly confessed all to Sheriff Howard "Ruff" Rausch, heartily guffawing throughout her entire speech.

Well, guess who gets the last laugh... we all do, that's who! xoxo.

Pudge is fine. Says he might add that syrup to his weight-loss program which started the conflict with Ethyl in the first place.

Crocker County Judge Wally Cronkletonkite barred Mona Montague from future contest participation, ordered her to donate the $20 bribe from Ethyl to the contest prize fund along with a $50 fine, which made the total first-place award $220. Judge Cronkletonkite then sentenced Ethyl Veral to 90 days of community service at the Charlie T. "Free" Wheeler Psyche Clinic, where her duties will be to empty pee bottles and fecal pans. No report yet on how she's doing so far, but I suspect Mrs. Veral is finding it difficult to inhale deeply enough for her resoundingly-cruel cackle. xoxo

This left the contest committee in a bit of a quandry as to whom should receive the award. While we all tended to Pudge and his dramatics on the table, Clyde Jenkins continued devouring from his line of delicious delights, consuming his fourth pie and declaring himself the winner. In fairness to all, the committee split the award between Clyde and Pudge. And in a gracious display of honoring his commitments, Pudge donated his $110 to Billy Clegg's medical fund, meaning Billy now has proper treatment for his broken forearm. I am extreeeeemely proud of you, Pudge!

As final proof all's well that ends acceptable, my assistant, SSS, made amends with Billy by snapping his photo as he sports his new contraption.

Thank goodness Billy finally changed shirts. If I see another picture of his disgusting gut, I might take some ipecac myself!! xoxo. That's a wrap, folks. My vacation begins now!! Until next time (August fourthish?), this is your Around Our Town editor, Belle Eva xoxo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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