Local schoolboys tossed aside as mysterious heartthrob emerges at Quincy High School

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

The male students of Quincy High School took a major hit this week, as a mysterious stranger emerged, adorned in the torn jeans and open flannels of an early-nineties grunge fan, and with a stare so piercing it could sink deep into the heart of even the most androgynous girl.

Advancing through the halls at the cool speed of a turtle, reeking of Noxzema and last night’s fuck, Jordan Catalano paved way to the student registry, ready and willing to call Quincy his new home.

The arrival of Jordan Catalano, of course, did not come without protest, as many of the school’s eye-catching regulars are now complaining about what appears to be hard times to come.


Jordan Catalano, pulling his signature "I couldn't care less" move on an unsuspecting girl.

“I just can’t catch a break since this kid showed up,” grumbled Billy McPhillips, the head quarterback of the Quincy High School Presidents, who was voted “Most Attractive” in his junior year yearbook. “I used to get more ass than a proctologist until this Catalano guy came to Quincy. Now I’m getting handies in West Quincy for thirty bucks a pop. This is fucking bullshit.”

With the muscular arms of a professional athlete, built for those crowd-pleasing 30-yard touchdown passes, as well as the occasional, vigorous, late-night fingering in the backseat of his father’s Mustang, McPhillips then began banging on tables, visibly shaken by his recent decline.

“I just can’t take it anymore,” he screamed, as he darted off into the distance to settle the score. "You haven't heard the last from Billy McPhillips! You can count on that."


Billy McPhillips, obviously displeased about his new-found rival.

Flooded with patients, the nurses at the high school also complained about Catalano’s presence, claiming over half of the school’s female population have been receiving fluids through an intravenous drip, as the pure sight of Catalano alone had caused them all to lose their natural bodily fluids by way of their panties.

“These girls are all dried up,” claimed nurse Julie Bummings, an all-around wacky medical expert, last in the news after allegations of reusing postage stamps nearly caused her to resign. “This kid is just too good looking. I got girls walking around here with about as much moisture in ‘em as a salted cashew. Somebody put a fucking mask on that kid, already!”

When asked to comment about his sudden arrival, Catalano merely looked downwards and put his hands in his pockets, all while Imperial Teen’s “Yoo Hoo” played mysteriously from the school’s brand new Bose speaker system.

Billy McPhillips was found dead shortly after he was interviewed by what appeared to be a most vicious, self-inflicted punch to the face.

In compliance with his very specific Last Will and Testament, he will be buried at sea, at the exact coordinates 42.2667°N 70.9578°W, as his love for the Hough’s Neck section of Quincy was surpassed by no other.

Snowy conditions cause mass hysteria among New Englanders, cancellation of Suicide Girls burlesque show at Sly Fox Tavern

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

A burlesque show by the Portland, Oregan-based Suicide Girls was postponed today after thousands of Quincy residents, yet again, proved that they are unable to handle driving in snow.

The Suicide Girls, who are best known for dancing around topless, began operations in late-2001, as a way to express their overbearing sexuality and "daddy issues" on stage, and eventually, as their popularity grew, the World Wide Web.

The event, which was schedule to take place this evening at the Sly Fox Tavern in West Quincy, was cancelled last-minute, as over ninety percent of the residents in the area had already totalled their cars, only further proving the fact that no New Englander can ever remember how to drive during those crazy times in which rain freezes and then falls to the ground.


The Suicide Girls, dancing around like a pile of sluts at a party with plenty of Adderall.

"I don't understand what the fucking problem is," said Kevin Stickowski, a seasoned veteran of the car dealership world, and author of the self-help book, Kid, Are You Fuckin' Serious?: Get'cho Act Togetha, Kid! "We live in New England. What's the big fucking deal? Every single winter, it's the same old story. Everyone drives around at about ten miles per hour, and then they still crash their cars. Why can't anybody just get used to the fact that it's gonna snow? And now look at what happened. West Quincy lost what was probably their only chance to see a pair of titties that weren't literally touching the ground. Fucking bullshit!"

Of all the car accidents reported, one of the worst was on Chickatawbut Road, where a smooth looking foreign automobile crashed into seven moving cars. This, as eyewitnesses say, caused one of the biggest pileups Chickatawbut has ever seen since the time Orlando Bloom casually cruised by a group of young gay boys, causing them to all pile on top of each other and fuck each other's faces.


The major eight-car pileup on Chickatawbut Road, in all of its disastrous glory.

"There's just something about New England drivers that science will never be able to explain," said Matty Hammers, a top-notch scientist, and self-proclaimed "Avon Barksdale of Quincy," last in the news after several failed attempts to make beer-and-then-liquor not make you sicker. "It just seems like this happens every year. Nobody knows what to do when it snows, so they just kinda glide across the roads until they hit something. It's almost funny, if you think about it. Until people die, that is. And then it's just hilarious. Unless, of course, the person who dies is a good kid. Then it just sucks. But the odds of that happening in this town are pretty fucking slim. There's a lot of expendable people in this city. Just sayin'."

When asked if they would ever attempt a return to the City of Presidents, the Suicide Girls declined to answer, as they were too busy whipping their tits out and somehow attributing it to an act of misplaced feminism.


Another Suicide Girl, this one exposing her breasts to an easily distracted world.
THIS IMAGE WAS CENSORED, AS IT IS THE QUINCY SCALLION'S BELIEF THAT
BIG TITS SHOULD NEVER OVERCOME AN OBVIOUSLY UNATTRACTIVE FACE.

As of now, authorities have asked that all timid folks and all-around meat whistles remain at home and refrain from using public roads, as it has been known to cause mass hysteria and mind-bending accidents.

As it remains unclear if the ever-so-respectable Suicide Girls will ever return, it is recommended that any Quincy resident who is in dire need of seeing tits go to Club 58, preferably with a gigantic bag of low quality cocaine.

It is this reporter's belief that no man should ever pay dime-one to see a pair of washed-up punk rock, goth, and/or indie boobs, as there are boobs everywhere you look, and you can actually see them, if you only tried. And I would rather a half-hour lunch with Kathleen Hanna over sex with every single one of those bummin' Suicide Girls, or whatever the fuck they call themselves.

Anyone can be born with a pair of tits and run around acting like they're Betty Page with tattoos, but it takes a truly iconic individual to develop a personality that interests others. And that, my friends, is a fact. Well, it's probably more of an opinion, but it's my opinion, which is basically a fact. See ya fuckin' later, kid.

Handicapped theatre group’s Christmas play receives piss-poor reviews, zero funding

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Let’s Do This, a city-funded theatre group comprised of physically handicapped, mentally retarded, and all-around ridiculous people staged their Christmas play, Robot Cop, on Saturday night, resulting in unanimously bad reviews from all in attendance and a cancellation of their 2010 funding from Mayor Koch’s office.

The 3½ hour production was held on a shoddily built stage resting awkwardly against parked cars on Hancock Street outside of City Hall.

Selected randomly from a list of Quincy based performance groups, Let’s Do This began their production at 8:00PM, with the understanding that it was to end only a half hour later, in accordance with city laws concerning amateur theatre.

The gathering audience began to notice something was amiss almost immediately as a wheelchair bound actor shot out from behind the main stage curtain on fire, launching into the crowd and dying immediately.

The curtain then rose for a moment, briefly revealing a hideously painted backdrop that some assumed was meant to be a futuristic, post-apocalyptic city, with the words “North Pole” scrawled on a banner, before falling back down and remaining closed for approximately ten minutes.

Muffled screams were then heard, which were then rapidly drowned out by the sound of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” blaring at an ear-shattering volume from the stage speakers.

While the curtain remained closed, hundreds of multi-colored balloons ascended from behind the stage carrying a 20-square-foot tapestry of former Hollywood scoundrel, Raul Julia, into the night sky. Bored silence rippled through the crowd as the balloons drifted off into the distance.


The giant tapestry, currently believed to be floating forebodingly near Super Stop & Shop.

James Gravy, a Woburn-based pyrotechnical expert, then detonated a large amount of his personal 4th of July fireworks stash dangerously close to the front row, scarring many children and dogs, and causing local Christmas enthusiast, Alf Nelson, to keel over and die.

Reviews came pouring into the Mayor’s Arts & Entertainment hotline almost immediately following the event.

“That was insanity,” growled Babu Porkchop, a salt miner from lower Merrymount. “It appeared to me that they were trying to recreate the movie Robocop, but they got absolutely none of the Christmas spirit of the original. I mean, Robot Cop? Really? Are they fucking serious about that shit? C’mon!”

“Easily the worst Christmas play I’ve ever seen,” replied Brendan “The Rifleman” Stremmi, a single dad, currently squatting in a Wollaston backyard. “I took my kids here to see some culture, not see a bunch of deranged clowns shit their pants and cough up blood. I could have taken them to IHOP for that.”

Austin LeTruth, a key player in the Voyager Space Shuttle disaster, agreed with the negative feedback. “The costumes were terrible. That mute guy kept forgetting his lines. And for forty-five minutes, nothing happened except a guy wearing a cape drinking a carton of rancid milk.”

Pausing briefly to bust out a distortion-heavy guitar solo, LeTruth added “If this is the best Quincy can do for Christmas, then I’m moving to Rwanda.”

Seconds after LeTruth’s private jet darted off towards the dark continent, the mayor’s office issued a formal apology and announced it will sever all ties with the Let’s Do This entertainment group.

“They're finished,” bellowed Mayor Koch. “I’m deeply sorry to all the families who were in attendance. I promise you this won’t happen again.”


Mayor Koch, ready to collapse after a reported thirteen slices of meatball pizza.

Mayor Koch’s speech was later revealed to be recycled word-for-word from last year's Christmas apology speech, which was issued after numerous endangered silverback gorillas were dropped headfirst from a harrier jet over Quincy Center into a vat of melted rubber.

Missing squirrel found murdered on Putman Street

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of a Nextel i870 cell phone

The body of a missing squirrel was found murdered on Putman Street this morning, causing citizens to lash out after City Hall's refusal to get involved.

John "Smoking Guns" Cunnif, the squirrel who had gone missing in the otherwise peaceful Merrymount neighborhood, was found dead just after daybreak from an apparent vicious bludgeoning.

While autopsy reports are still in progress, City Hall has so far refused to release any statement on this recent rise in squirrel murders, which has plagued the city of Quincy for the past three weeks.

Just last week, Kenneth P. Talbot, a fan favorite among squirrels and humans alike, known for his daily walks through the Montclair section of Quincy, was found with thirty-two BB gun pellets to chest. Talbot died later that same afternoon at Quincy Medical Center after three hours of intense cardiac surgery.

"We just couldn't save the poor guy," said Dr. Desmond Shaw, Quincy Medical Center's top squirrel surgeon. "It's just too much to take. Every single day, more and more squirrel violence occurs in this city. There's just no rhyme or reason to it."

Dr. Desmond Shaw has so far maintained a steady 0% success rate for saving squirrels, although promises to try harder in future attempts.

There is no word yet on why these recent murders have taken place, however, experts in this field all agree that some sort of human-squirrel war has been waged. If this stands true, it would appear that the years of constant, unspoken tension between the two breeds of vertebrate mammals has finally reached its boiling point.

Theories on who is responsible for the murders include, but are not limited to, Freddy Madball, the Great One Killer, and the infamous Cardoza drug cartel.

So far, no arrests have been made in any of these cases, as authorities have reported no current leads in the investigation.

Outstanding Quincy Citizen of the Year Award given to mysterious cat

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Mayor Thomas Koch awarded the prize of the 2009 Outstanding Quincy Citizen of the Year to a mysterious cat who was a last-minute addition on the nomination ballot.

The awards, which were held last night at booth #6 of the Beale Street Brigham’s restaurant, featured live music from a 1989 jukebox and full catering from the ice cream parlor itself. It was attended by the mayor, top aides from City Hall, a small delegation of the local press, and the award-winning cat, Leo-Hector.

Leo-Hector, previous address unknown, but now residing in a penthouse suite on Quincy Shore Drive, arrived at the award ceremony by way of McGrath Taxi, his pre-furred (oh please...) method of transportation. With absolutely no expression on his face, Leo-Hector jumped out of the cab’s back window, leaving behind a generous $20 tip which was nearly $20 more than the tip Mayor Koch left for his delivery of Papa Gino’s meat-lover's pizza.

This caused a brief moment of awkward silence, as the owners of Brigham’s were forced to accommodate the outside food source, and the Papa Gino’s delivery man was forced to walk back to his work a mere twenty feet away with only thirty-five cents to show for his troubles.

Spirits rose, however, only moments later, as Stu Sodapopaninski, the head cook at Brigham’s, took a cue from Leo-Hector’s expressionless yawn to fire up Danzig’s “Mother” at an ear-splitting volume.

Joe Schlopp, former assistant to the mayor's assistant, opened the ceremony by recounting the many acts that led to Leo-Hector winning the Outstanding Quincy Citizen of 2009 Award.

“It was a close win this year," bumbled Schlopp. "We had Jimmy McMuffin from Wollaston, who graciously sent Seasons 3-5 of his Sopranos DVD collection to victims of Hurricane Katrina. We had Marc Gizelli from South Quincy, who vowed not to steal from 7-Eleven for three years, in order to help the economy get back on it’s feet. We even had Shirly Ducklah from Merrymount, who tirelessly banged all of the Quincy Police Department to help raise morale after the Great One Killer struck again. And who could forget Juan 'Bleeding Gums' Fernandez? Here is a man whose tireless work in the field of unasked-for-abortions prevented any more Milton kids from appearing on the horizon. A man whose dedication to not helping fat woman sent a strong message of pride to us all. A man who was so confident in his abilities as a sexy gynecologist, he didn’t even bother going to medical school.”


Dr. Juan "Bleeding Gums" Fernandez, getting ready to go in for a nice deep one.

Continuing to speak to the audience with his fly was down, his shoes untied, his socks mismatched, and what appeared to be over thirty-two fluid ounces of A1 Steak Sauce® stains on his outfit, Shlopp continued. "We knew this year had to be special. And when we heard about Leo-Hector, we knew we found our man. Or cat. Whatever.”

At this point, the lights dimmed and a Blu-ray presentation of Leo-Hector’s time in Quincy was shown to the crowd. Ominous music played and a voice that can only be described as a perfect mix of Robert Stack and Charlie Chaplin began recounting Leo-Hector’s story.

“Last Friday night, a Quincy kid was in dire need," the narrator spoke. "He was booted out of JJ Foley’s in downtown Boston, and only had $10 to his name. It was 3:00AM, and there was no way for him to get back to his beloved Quincy home. Then, a miracle happened. A cab pulled up and opened it’s doors. The kid entered. What he saw amazed him. There was Leo-Hector. A cat. With a perfectly crisp $10 bill under his paw. The two split the cab back to Quincy, both artfully pretending to pass out when the driver asked for a tip, and a friendship was born.

“Now, if you think that’s all Leo-Hector has done for this city, then you are mistaken! Reports soon rushed into the mayor’s office of Leo-Hector helping people in every corner of Quincy. If someone needed to bum a cigarette at the North Quincy train station, there was Leo-Hector with a fresh, crisp pack of Marb’s under his paw. Need to buy just one more 8-ball at six o'clock in the morning, but no one’s around? There was Leo-Hector with a fresh, crisp baggie under his paw. How about the single mother that was denied a six-pack of Icehouse beer at the Regal Beagle, just because she was $5 short and was only 17? Yep, Leo-Hector, with a fresh, crisp fake ID under one paw, and a fucking monster sack of Susan B. Anthony coins under the other.”

At this point, members of the crowd began to rise. A steady stream of “yah, dood!” and applause rained down upon Leo-Hector. Remaining completely indifferent to the thunderous praise, Leo-Hector stretched out, clawed the shit out of the chair next to him, and then went back to sleep.

“Man, that cat is about as cool as a cucumber,” Mayor Koch was later heard to remark, as he viciously sank his teeth into a smooth blend of meats and cheeses.

City placed under martial law over missing pair of Adidas shell toes, murder

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Quincy was placed under martial law this morning after pair of Adidas shell toes turned up missing in the Wollaston section of Quincy, and, less importantly, the skull of a missing prostitute was found in the foot trails behind Merrymount Park.

The shell toes were reported missing just after dawn, when Jackie Transfusco, an unemployed Lady Gaga fan from Fenno Street, woke up to find that his closet had been ransacked overnight by bandits.

As usual, Officer Nico Haylen was the first to respond.

"This is a heinous crime," Haylen said, as he casually adjusted his gentleman zone. "No Quincy resident should live in fear of having their shell toes taken from them in their sleep. Shell toes are a necessity in this city, and it is every citizen's right to bear them. Aside from being unemployed, Mr. Transfusco is a model citizen, and I will stop at nothing to retrieve his shoes. That's a fucking promise."

Stopping momentarily to flounder on the floor in a vicious fit of diabetic shock, Haylen continued. "As for the skull we found, we were able to, through acts of science, assume that it belonged to a prostitute who had gone missing a few months back. It is my experience that hookers are a feared and unloved breed. When they go missing, the search is often very minimal, and usually done with such haste that it might as well have not even happened. Nobody cares about a dead hooker. Or even an alive one, for that matter. From the rising gas prices, to the recent pandemic of the H1N1 virus, hookers have plagued this city with bad luck and overpriced blowjobs for years. Hookers contribute nothing to society. Nothing."

The decaying skull of what scientists assume to be a dead prostitute, just chillin'.

As with other murders in recent past, a Great One cup was found in the general vicinity of the remains, this time two blocks north, in a dumpster just outside of the Wollaston Dunkin' Donuts.

Authorities have asked all those concerned to please ignore this recent rash of "Great One Killer" murders, as, thus far, it has been "only prostitutes," and it is best to "just let nature take it's course."

As reported, Quincy will remain on martial law throughout the weekend, which is said to entail multiple road blocks in obvious locations, as well as a series of unmarked cars, each with more antennas than the last.

Quincy resident breaks MBTA world record, law

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Dave “Drinka” Adamson, a 42-year-old resident of Father Bill’s Place homeless shelter, broke MBTA world records last night shortly before being arrested at the Quincy Adams train station.

Adamson set a new record for traveling the entire length of the MBTA on all routes, including train, bus, and ferry in under three hours.

It is assumed that Mr. Adamson broke the record accidentally, as surveillance footage shows him boarding a train at Quincy Center, and then passing out.

It was a cycle that the drunken derelict would repeat an astonishing sixteen times over the course of the trip, until his trial and error wanderings eventually managed to get him back to Quincy.

Upon being charged with 37 counts of lewdness in public, 20 counts of indecent exposure, 1 count of reading the Boston edition Metro upside down to give off the impression of being literate, and 6 ½ counts of telling people on the subway his opinions on things, Mr. Adamson was then brought to the Quincy Police headquarters holding cells.

Adamson broke the MBTA's previous record from six years ago, as set by a 4-year-old child named Wenderto Alomar, who was abandoned by her parents at the Savin Hill station and then adopted by various workers on the MBTA.

According to legend, Alomar would be cared for by a subway or bus driver until her incessant whining would cause them to pass her off to another transit worker. This cycle continued until she was booted off of a moving Green Line train into the Charles River, where she fell to her death.

Long-lost final Skrewdriver album unearthed in basement of Quincy Records & Tapes

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

The master tapes for a long-lost final Skrewdriver album were found in the basement of the now-defunct Quincy Records & Tapes yesterday afternoon, after a team of scientists stumbled upon them during an attempt to dig to the Earth's core.

The album, which was lost shortly after singer Ian Stuart's death, had been missing since 1993, and had been widely considered to be gone forever, until now.

What is most surprising about these master tapes is the tremendous amount of guest spots featured on the album, which appear to include many early-nineties hip hop artists, ranging from West Coast G-funk artists, such as Kurupt and Cold187um, to underground East Coast rappers, such as Nas and Kool G Rap.

It is these recent findings that has the generally well-liked racist community up in arms, some of which have displayed signs of utter disbelief, claiming that the release of these master tapes would not only ruin the good name of racist bigots worldwide, but could also possibly be considered an act of communism.

NotCommon Records founder and CEO, JoJo Dancer, has already expressed interest in putting these masters to disc, in an attempt to produce enough copies for sale in time for the current Christmas season.

As stated in his press conference at Spukie's Pizza, Dancer plans on releasing the track, "Built Up, Knocked Down 2: The Zoo," which features both GZA and Raekwon of the Wu-Tang Clan, as the lead single. It will be based on the sales statistics of this single that will determine the amount of copies that will be pressed into solid gold compact discs, although experts predict that the amount will exceed one million.

Music blogs and message boards across the internet are foaming at the mouth in anticipation. Many advertisers on sites such as Yousendit and Megaupload are speculating that this is the most eagerly awaited illegal download since Alec Baldwin’s infamous voicemail rant, where he used his finely-tuned narrator-style voice to turn his daughter’s self esteem into a putrid pile of garbage.

Louis Vermil, the first person to ever suffer acute alcohol poisoning from O’Doul's, remarked that a crossover project of this magnitude is just what the record industry needs to get back on it’s feet.

“Things are tough all over," said Vermil. "Music itself is pretty much dead. It just can't survive in these times. There hasn’t been a major, groundbreaking release since Garth Brooks dropped that Chris Baines LP. That shit was hot.”


Skrewdriver, posing for a photo shoot behind Napoli's Pizza in Quincy Center.

Pausing briefly to read a September article of The Quincy Scallion, Vermil continued. “This, however, stands to be an even more impressive album. I mean, the amount of 'yo’s' and 'oi’s' on the first six tracks alone are rumored to be in the thousands. There will be vowels everywhere!”

The liner notes found near the demo tapes reveal Mr. Stuart's intention to break out to a new audience and expand his following. A track listed as “Timberland Boots & Braces (It Don’t Stop Y’all)” was earmarked to appear on the Judgment Night movie soundtrack, but unfortunately was not submitted in time to meet the deadline. Stuart pondered that a possible left-wing conspiracy forced him to sleep through his alarm clock and therefore not deliver the track to the post office before it closed.

Also of note are scrawled lyrics next to a track tentatively labeled “Blue Power (Smash the Reds),” which was to have guest spots from Suge Knight, Foozball, and Scribbly G. Willikers. The track was a collaboration between Compton area Crips and the London branch of Blood & Honour to diss both the Bloods gang, as well as communism as a whole. It was never completed, however, due to G. Willikers’ untimely demise on the Yankee Cannonball ride at Canobie Lake Park.

Hollywood heartthrob and owner of the Brockton Rox baseball team, Bill Murray, was also reached for comment for some reason.

“This whole thing sounds about as nice as pie,” quipped Murray, in his trademark deadpan response. “How about this weather, huh? Seventy degrees in December? One time I saw a guy put his socks on over his sneakers. Now that’s a story to write home about. Either way, Skrewdriver is one of the best bands I have ever heard. Their live performances were pretty intense. Next to the Ducky Boys, their shows were probably the most brutal around.”

GZA, RZA, and Bill Murray, grabbing a bite to eat in a replica of Eddie's Diner.

As to the fate of this long-lost Skrewdriver album, no one is sure. If test runs show positive signs, as they presumably will, it is expected to be released on 12/12/2009, as any true fan of Ian Stuart knows of his love for ones and twos, as well as his general acceptance for nines and zeros.

Biker gangs and skinheads battle in the streets

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

A war between a biker gang and skinheads has erupted in the streets of Quincy, causing many residents to become increasingly annoyed by the overbearing sound of loud motorcycle engines and vague threats of separate economic and cultural development for whites.

As reported by authorities, the war began when a group of white separatists, known as the League of Extraordinarily Anglo Dudes, (or "L.E.A.D." for short), arrived in the city, and began setting up a new cigar shop in North Quincy.

This, of course, did not go over well with the Sons of Granite, the Quincy-based motorcycle gang responsible for nearly a dozen traffic violations and misdemeanors over the past twelve years.

The initial fighting, as police reports say, began after Jackson Telmax, Vice President of the Sons of Granite, allegedly walked past the North Quincy cigar shop and was taunted by the League of Extraordinarily Anglo Dude's head henchman, Renny Hollrins, for having such pristine white sneakers.

It was at this point that Telmax struck a hauntingly attractive pose and engaged in what was reported as "the longest staring contest Quincy has ever seen since the first time Officer Nico Haylen met eyes with local rap artist, Neal Diamondz."

"It's a war zone out there," remarked Jemma Hanshee, a resident of North Quincy, and author of Pregnant Women are Disgusting: Seriously, Why So Fat? "I was at the Chantey last week and a fight almost broke out. Can you believe that? It was a pretty intense scene. All the skinheads were just flipping the bikers off and calling them names. They kept calling Jackson Telmax 'pretty boy' and 'adorable,' and stuff like that. I felt really bad for him. He couldn't even finish his Michelob Ultra. He was that fucking hurt by what they were saying. My heart really goes out to him. He's a great guy. And for someone who's such a pretty boy, he really is adorable."


Renny Hollrins, totally unwilling to put up with any form of shit from anyone.

The fighting only worsened days later when Jackson Telmax found a complete bottle of his Aussie Aussome Volume Hair Spray Gel Fusion emptied out in his bathroom sink, causing him to fly into a rampage that left him with eight bloody knuckles, three broken toothbrushes, and a completely devastated toilet basin.

Immediately filing a report against the League of Extraordinarily Anglo Dudes with the Norfolk County Sheriff's Office, Telmax then took it to the streets to commence in a battle to define all battles.

Stopping briefly to fix his untreated hair, Telmax then met eyes with several members of the skinhead organization, causing him to hop back onto his Harley Davidson and head back to the center of town as fast as he could, where he, yet again, enlisted the help of local law enforcement, as opposed to just fucking handling it.


Jackson Telmax, pleading with the sheriff's office to help him get his hair product back.

"He was really out of sorts," said Deputy Sheriff Johnny Doright. "I've never seen Jackson that upset before. Personally, I thought his hair looked great. If you ask me, it was perfect. And his sneakers were immaculate. How that man is able to constantly travel through the long-forgotten dusty highway trails of Quincy all day long and keep his sneakers so white and pure, I'll never understand. But I'm not here to figure out life's mysteries. I'm here to protect and serve, and that's exactly what I do best. So, I hopped in my cruiser and I interrogated the League about his hair product, but they didn't seem to know anything about it. I asked them straight up and they said they had no idea what I was talking about, so there really wasn't anything I could about it. I don't really know what purpose they'd have with such an industrial strength spray gel, anyway. I mean, we are talking about skinheads, right?"

Authorities have asked that all residents please stay clear of any bikers and skinheads for the time being, and that all those who may be involved to keep their "colors" at home.

"What kind of a city would tell colored people to stay home?" barked Craig Jefferson, an African American resident of Merrymount, who has a knack for misinterpreting things. "This is complete bullshit."

No further information on this ongoing war is known, although it is expected that it will merely continue on in the passive-aggressive manner in which it started, as all Quincy beefs do.

As of the time of this article, Jackson Telmax has not been reimbursed for his spray gel, nor has anyone come forward with information as to who was responsible for the most vicious and inhumane act that has divided the city in two.

Financial woes for Nicolas Cage worsen as Quincy-based properties amass debt

Article by Brunk Edwards and Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Actor Nicholas Cage, best known for killing criminal mastermind, Cyrus “The Virus” Grissom, in the 1997 documentary, Con Air, appeared in Quincy District Court today to answer questions regarding back taxes owed on various properties around the City of Presidents.

Mr. Cage, formerly known as Nicholas Coppola, and almost never known as DJ Jazzy Moonbucks, remained mostly silent throughout the hearing as his Scottish attorney, Billiam Bollace, answered questions pertaining to “financially ridiculous purchases" the cash-strapped actor has made in the city.

Some of the stranger properties and items Mr. Cage owns are the stone watchtower on Wollaston Hill, the second floor of Central Middle School, a prehistoric dinosaur skull found in a Wendy’s bathroom, which scientists estimate is 67 million years old, and a Toyota Corolla found in a Wendy’s drive-thru, which automotive experts place as being over 20 years old.

Cage, when asked about these strange purchases in the Granite City, merely uttered an inaudible monologue of scattered words and movements, all done with his signature blend of awkward hand gestures and untimely pauses.

This monologue, however, was quickly interrupted as attentions were distracted by a series of computer-generated explosions, each more thrilling than the last.

Nicolas Cage, attempting to inform the people of Quincy his side of the story.

Cage’s $25,000-per-hour hi-definition light show failed to explain his purchase of a shower curtain consisting of 300 mint condition copies of The Freeze’s Rabid Reaction record sewn together.

Honorable Judge Bill Meade, however, was adequately impressed with a wild rant from the actor that expressed remorse over buying a cubic ton of premium grade Quincy granite per day for the last 400 days at a value of over $2.1 million dollars.

Cage had the granite excavated from his private quarry daily, then shipped to his four-story tree house on Elm Street, where he would grind the rocks to dust using a diamond-tipped Slap Chop® and then snort the filtrate.


Cage's four-story tree house, as seen from the roof of the Elm Street Wash and Dry.

A lengthy stay in one of Quincy’s many rehab clinics is widely assumed to be part of the defendant's plea bargain.

Sipping quietly on a hot chocolate consisting of boiling Amazonian cocoa butter and "half and half" from the South Quincy 7-Eleven, Cage mused that his days of wild spending and reckless, carefree fiscal mismanagement may be at an end.

“At the rate I was going," the actor stated. "I would have to make Snake Eyes 2, 3 and 4 just to pay the maintenance bills for the built-to-scale Titanic I have in Houghton’s Pond. And, even then, I'd still be breaking even.”

City fucking baffled as North Quincy High School Red Raiders defeat Quincy High School Presidents for first time since invention of football

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

For the first time since the invention of football, the North Quincy High Red Raiders defeated the Quincy High Presidents in the annual Turkey Day game rivalry, causing residents of the city to wonder if any of life's expectancies are guaranteed.

It was and upset victory that shocked the 02169 zip code, as it is historically the only uplifting thing residents of that particular area can count on.

From West Quincy to Germantown, and everywhere in between, fans of the Presidents filled the streets, each of them searching for answers to questions that no one was prepared to answer. It was a bleak and miserable scene, reminiscent of dark and dismal atmosphere which filled the episodes following Bobby Ewing's death on the Lorimar Television production, Dallas. And all throughout the city, the feeling of utter confusion filled the air like an unseen plague sent from the heavens to destroy a community that already had very little morale to spare.

"This is horrible news for everyone," said Jimmy Flynn, a North Quincy High School graduate who realizes all too well that the Turkey Day game is all Quincy High School has. "I feel like I just swallowed gum. The neighborhoods surrounding Quincy High School have very little to look forward to. This game means everything to them. These poor kids have to sit around and watch all the North Quincy High School kids graduate and lead successful lives, all while they sit around and pop pills and die at the age of twenty-three. You take that game away from these kids, they have nothing. Quincy High defeating North Quincy on Thanksgiving has become a natural law of life. When you change something like that, anything goes. There are no more laws, there is no more justice, and the laws of gravity no longer apply. It's a fucking free-for-all out there, and nothing will ever be the same."

Representatives of Quincy High School's football program were unavailable for comment on this matter, however, experts predict their comment would have been something along the lines of, "Dude, are you fucking kidding me?"

Until further notice, authorities have asked all residents of the 02169 zip code to stay at home, take a shitload of OxyContins, and chill the fuck out, making it "business as usual" for all those involved.

Peach Pit franchise to open in South Quincy

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

The popular Peach Pit franchise has announced plans of opening a new location in South Quincy this morning, causing many residents of the area to begin rethinking the possibility of growing sideburns.

The Peach Pit, which was made famous in the popular night time television drama, Beverly Hills, 90210, has since become a household name to all, especially the undying fans of Joe E. Tata, who is best known for playing Nat, the lovable, but sometimes ruthless, owner of the formerly fictional establishment.

Beverly Hills, 90210 was loosely based on the 1988 North Quincy High School play, Montclair, 02170, which told the tale of Sweden Walsh, a former Minnesota native who moves to the Montclair section of Quincy and quickly gets caught up in the high stakes world of drinking at golf courses, celebrating 21st birthdays at Malachy's, and spray painting shamrocks on corner stores.

But all is not well in the tight-knit community of South Quincy, as no one resident can agree on the location of where the new Peach Pit should be.

Those who grew up on the President’s Pharmacy side demand that it be built in the location that currently houses the South Shore Savings Bank. While those who grew up on the Miller’s Pharmacy side of the neighborhood have also staked claim on the popular dining spot, claiming it would be a perfect replacement for the Varsity Club.

While both pharmacies have since gone out of business and been replaced by many other businesses since, this only further proves that the great Miller’s-President’s War still goes on, causing authorities to be on red alert, as last reports of this infighting resulted in no less than seventeen kids getting slapped, at least three atomic wedgies, and one kid who got so bummed out that he had to go home.

“The Peach Pit should be on the Miller’s Pharmacy side of South Quincy,” claimed Shawnie Brando, a man who once showed up to school wearing a Hole shirt and a pink barrette in his hair. “Miller’s Pharmacy had an extensive collection of penny candy. All President’s Pharmacy had was a free blood pressure machine. I’m not saying I didn’t like the blood pressure machine, but I’d much prefer candy. The Peach Pit should replace the Varsity Club. That bar sucks. If I wanted a vague Irish and sports theme, and slightly-better-than-average food that has been marinating in butter for weeks, I’d go to Murphy’s Twin Shamrocks. We need a place where you can hang out all day long, simply because one person in your entire group ordered a single slice of pie. But maybe that’s just me. I’m a known loiterer, I’ll admit. But I still think it’d be cool to have it around. I love Joe E. Tata. Next to Orlando Bloom, he’s probably the best actor to ever set foot on the stage.”


A typical scene from FOX's beloved teen drama, Beverly Hills, 90210.

“Fuck the Miller’s Pharmacy kids,” barked Matty Southside, a man who once wore an Eazy-E shirt to church, with nothing in his hair but the blood of his enemies. “Those kids act like all we had on our side was a free blood pressure machine. Anybody ever hear of Bradford Park? I’d like to see one of those Miller’s Pharmacy kids try to use that basketball court without getting a GT Performer thrown off their face. There’s really no reason why anybody should ever cater to their side, when they could clearly cater to ours. We had 7-Eleven growing up, they had fuckin’ CVS. Do you have any idea how easy it was to steal from 7-Eleven? I used to walk in there with elbow pads and knee pads, pretending to be a skateboarder, and then just load the pads up with candy bars. Fuck penny candy. How about free candy? How’s that float your boat? Mark my words, if they build a Peach Pit on the wrong side of South Quincy, I will straight murder one kid from Squantum every single day until they make things right. There’s only one right way to go about this, and they better chose wisely. As usual, I am not fucking around.”

There is no word yet on whether, or not, Matty Southside realizes that Squantum has absolutely nothing to do with this. Although, it is expected that his aggression can be immediately attributed to the fact that Squantum kids use an "SQ" abbreviation, which South Quincy kids feel should be rightfully theirs.

While no one can be sure as to where the location of the new Peach Pit will be, one can only assume that, no matter where it is built, there will be blood.

Until further notice, authorities have asked that all forty-seven residents of South Quincy please remain calm, as the Peach Pit has promised to offer friendly service and home style meals for an honest price, no matter where their customers hail from.

Tori Spelling was unavailable to comment on this article, as she was too busy being the most hideous looking creature of the night that anybody has ever fucking seen.

Read: The Tragedy (by Elizabeth Longfur)

Homeless bum sex on Broad Street, city intrigued

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

A pair of homeless people were caught having sex in a busy parking lot between Fratelli's Bakery and Pearle Vision last Friday, after the driver of a passing school bus reported what appeared to be "disgusting bum sex" to authorities.

Police arrested the man and woman shortly after, however, were unable to erase the image from the minds of those who bared witness to the hideous, inhumane act.

"They were still in the act when I arrived," claimed Officer Nico Haylen, who asked that his name not be used in this article. "When I first pulled up, I thought the guy's face had been sewn to her rectal region, almost as if it was one multi-limbed being, connected through some strange experiment, in which both parties share the very same digestive track. A human centipede of sorts. But then I realized that he was actually just willingly eating her ass. It was a disturbing sight to see, especially considering the fact that he was 82-years-old and she was only 19. I gotta give him credit in the stamina department, though. That guy leaves no deed unfinished, that's for sure. I sat there for a good ten minutes, just watching his technique. He knew what he was doing down there. He had done this before. He even spit on his hand and finished her off with a wet one. It was sorta cute."

Merle Humphries, the homeless man in question, was then taken to Quincy Medical Center, where over thirty-two gallons of Carlo Rossi Blush was pumped from his stomach, which was later resold to Carlo Rossi Vineyards, where it was repackaged and sold as a seasonal, limited-time-only merlot.

This merlot, or "Carlo Rossi's Merle-Oh," as it is called, can be purchased at Atlas Liquors for a fair and reasonable price, and is said to be "shockingly different," as well as "refreshingly smooth."


Humphries, smashing a heaping portion of Cream of Wheat into his homeless face.

"This is just a publicity stunt created by Fratelli's Bakery and Pearle Vision," claimed Jeff Brophy, a man who claims almost everything that happens in life is a publicity stunt. "First, Harry's Carpet fixes an election to get Mayor Koch into City Hall so everyone would see their new luxury carpet line. Then, Beak Wilder gets married for some stupid viral marketing campaign for The Quincy Scallion. And now, we have bakeries and eyeglass stores combining their efforts and advertising through gross sexual acts with homeless people. It's crossing the line, and it's not right. And it's fucking disgusting. This city is absolutely insane, and pretty soon, it's about to fucking explode."

Aside from her name, no information is known in regards to the homeless woman in question, although Officer Haylen claimed she was "strikingly attractive" and "oddly familiar looking." It can only be assumed that she is of Polish descent, and was, at one point, the head cheerleader at her school, captain of the volleyball team, and in love with a man whose cellular phone was approximately the size of a jukebox.

Kelly Pakowski, along with Humphries, were both charged with lewd sexual acts in public, operating a homeless penis while intoxicated, consuming bodily fluids near a food establishment, and making crazy, spur-of-the-moment decisions.


Pakowski, sporting a post-sex smile and a set of glamorous shoulder pads.

Neither Fratelli's Bakery or Pearle Vision would confirm or deny allegations of organizing the public encounter between Humphries and Pakowski, although authorities have said that they will not be charging either of the businesses with anything at this time.

Authorities have asked that all homeless people, especially those who are residing at Father Bill's Place, to stay clear of the parking lot at this time, as the mysterious sensual aura the lot has become known for is currently being investigated by a team of local businessmen.

"There's just something sexy about that lot," remarked Matty Hammers, a fly-by-night scientist who once drank sixteen shots of Maker's Mark before his morning jog. "As to the reason why, we're still looking into that. It's funny, though, after all the tax dollars that Mayor Koch dumps into this project, it'll probably just end up being due to the blend of scents given off by industrial-strength eyeglass cleaner and fresh roasted snickerdoodle coffee."

Roxie’s Market exploits obscure legal loophole to operate bizarre business practices

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Famous market and butcher shop, Roxie's Market, a Quincy food industry staple for generations, has exploited an obscure legal loophole in order to conduct strange non-meat-related business, states a new study.

The study, which is part of a year-long investigation conducted by retired private eye and perennial Great Cuts customer, Montgomery Wednesday, was presented via a press conference held this morning at City Hall.

Mr. Wednesday’s allegations include, but are not limited to, backroom freezers containing supercomputers, used primarily to hack into MySpace accounts and "view more pics" of hot girls, a counterfeit operation, in which Clubman® brand after shave is brewed in a sink in the janitor's closet, and piles of what appears to be thousands of rejected homemade scripts to the since-defunct 1984 helicopter show, Airwolf.

As usual, Roxie's Market was unable to comment on this matter, as all employees were too busy chasing shoppers around in an attempt to mark down their already notoriously low prices.

"You must believe me," said Mike Triangle, a spicy little meatball from the Merrymount section of Quincy, and director of the sloppily-titled pornography film, Bukkake Balboa IV: Black to the Future. "There's a lot more to that place than a couple of finely-aged ribeyes and an extensive variety of gourmet deli mustard. I heard there's a guy in the basement that's been working non-stop for the past twelve years, trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind the fact that Slick Rick and Jason Bateman share the same birthday. And it's obvious to me that the same guy who made their neon sign is the guy who made the sign at Sully's. Nothing will ever change my stance on that one. I don't give a fuck what anybody says. I don't know about you, but I don't wanna be buying perishable meat products from a place that has dealings with the likes of Sully's, even if it's an indirect connection. Sully's has to be one of the creepiest bars in the city, and that's saying a lot, because this city is insane. I'll never understand the shit that goes down in Quincy. It's all so puzzling to me."


Mike Triangle, trying to make some sense out of a city that has apparently lost control.

The exact law that Roxie’s Market is using remains unclear, but it is believed to be a city law resulting from the landmark 1912 case of Wooblydoobly v. The City of Quincy. This case stemmed from an argument between Francis Bizmarkie Wooblydoobly and the city of Quincy over Wooblydoobly’s insistence that “any butcher shop within five miles of a cemetery, automobile washing station, and/or a local constabulary has the right to ‘exercise unnatural and/or unnecessary side occupations of any caliber’ within it’s allotted property.”

Strangely enough, it is also on record that Wooblydoobly had never owned a business, let alone a butcher shop, and was simply filing frivolous lawsuits against the city in retaliation for no one believing him about a World War that would erupt only a few years later. Wooblydoobly won the case as all twelve of the jurors, plus the judge, were incredibly drunk.

“It’s amazing what you can learn from historical documents,” remarked Wednesday, as he finished his ninth black coffee of the day. “Those shady meat merchants really dug deep on this one. This law basically allows them to get away with anything. I mean, I saw them feeding hard-boiled eggs to a dog for two straight hours the other day. That’s just ridiculous! I also have reason to believe that the disappearance of local old-timer Alf Nelson is linked to Roxie’s Market. We found receipts in his house for low fat chicken mutton on sale for $2.99/a pound. You can’t beat those prices. Poor bastard's probably melting in a vat of acid in the basement.”

Authorities following up on Mr. Wednesday’s suspicions on the whereabouts of Alf Nelson where relieved to learn that the old fella was not actually rotting away in the basement of Roxie’s, but, in fact, had died peacefully in the parking lot after an unchained pit bull escaped it’s owner’s yard and mauled him to death.

Mr. Nelson’s shattered, mangled corpse will be put to rest care of Lydon Funeral Home. As of now, no display time has been announced, as it is assumed no friends or family will bother to show up.

While the low prices on fresh meat continues unabated, along with a relentless barrage of accommodating workers help shoppers with their every need, there remains to be seen if an end to the increasingly bizarre, non-meat-related antics of Roxie’s will cease. For now, there is simply no better location in Quincy to buy fresh bald eagle sandwiches, download the answers to next years SAT questions, or repair smashed alarm clocks and Toyota Corollas than Roxie’s Market.

Controversial food delivery methods mistaken as yet another Japanese attack

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

A controversial form of food delivery service was mistaken as a Japanese attack yesterday when Quincy Center’s Fuji 1546 attempted to deliver a large order of pan-fried gyōza and seared maguro sushi to a security guard at the Fore River Shipyard.

These delivery service methods were said to entail no less than sixteen Nakajima B5N bombers, each equipped with Type 91 torpedoes, filled to the brim with delicious Japanese cuisine. In addition to these bombers was a single Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter plane, equipped with an impressive Bose stereo system, which blasted Faith Hill’s “There You’ll Be” as the delivery was being made.

This disruptive means of delivery caused a deep feeling of unease among locals, causing a four-minute-long battle of wits, as no actual weaponry was made available for Quincy residents to defend themselves against what was mistaken as an unexpected air attack.

“I was driving past the shipyard on my way to Amazing Video,” said a shameless Kenny Jabbarino, a "smell my fingers" kind of guy from Adams Shore. “It was my girl’s birthday and I wanted to get her something nice. That’s when I saw the planes. They were closing in on the USS Salem with tremendous speed. I immediately pulled over and began throwing Perc 512s at them, attempting to at least deter them from the attack. But the 512s had no effect on them, so I reached into my fifth pocket and grabbed an OC 80. I threw it in my mouth and swallowed, waiting the necessary thirty seconds it took to obtain the super strength needed to defeat sixteen planes. I took a running start and shot up into the air, protected by nothing but the hard rubber front of my shell toes and the heavy wool of my pea coat.”

Stopping briefly to crack open can of ice cold Bud Light, Jabbarino continued. “I blasted the first plane in the nose, causing it to spin wildly and crash into the water. The second plane started coming towards me, and then the third. I punched them both out like I was a Sterling Middle School ruffian taking out a couple of timid North Quincy kids. Before I could reach the other planes, they began to retreat back to their runway above Fuji. I stayed in the air for a few minutes more, just so I could stare at them while they fled. And then I dropped into the water. It was fucking cold in there. By the time I swam to shore, my penis was about the size a baby shrimp from a shockingly underpriced Long John Silver’s special. Luckily, I had just purchased that gift from Amazing Video, so I was still able to go home and please my girlfriend on her birthday. It’s funny how things have a way of working out like that. Bitch was straight up screaming, it was great. We went through an entire roll of paper towels. If it wasn't for Amazing Video, we'd have some seriously unhappy women in this city. What an amazing store that place is. I owe them everything.”

Fuji 1546 owner, Jimmy Liang, was unavailable for comment on this matter, as he was busy setting up his all-new thirteen story teppanyaki bar in Wollaston Center. However, his associate, Tommy Wingman, did promise that the establishment would make an effort to adopt a less threatening form of delivery service in the future.

HAPPY VETERANS DAY!