Monday, November 30, 2009

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.”

Friday, November 27, 2009

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.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

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 fucking 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)

Friday, November 20, 2009

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 so
ld 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."

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

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.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

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.


Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Human centipede controversy raises eyebrows amongst locals as more evidence resurfaces

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

More evidence has resurfaced in regards to allegations that Mayor Thomas Koch has, in fact, been experimenting with creating a connected, three-person "human centipede" of sorts, as two photographs have made their way to The Quincy Scallion by way of an anonymous tip sent from a tipped-over Germantown mailbox.

As the allegations state, Mayor Koch is involved in this controversial experiment in an attempt to rock the science world in a way Quincy hasn't seen since Dr. Crully Fantasia created a pill that makes Squantum kids unable to listen to the Clash.

The human centipede, which involves three separate individuals, who are connected by having their faces sewn to the asses of the person before them, is rumored to share one digestive track, as the excrement of the first person is said to travel through the remaining two individuals by means too disgusting to mention.

"I don't think it's right," claimed Paul McGranite, a fan favorite from North Quincy, who once bit a puppy's face off in an attempt to disprove that all vegetarians are pussies. "There's really no reason why you should ever sew somebody's face to another person's ass. Most people will eat an ass if you ask them to, but they prefer to be asked nicely. And I'm not saying I know much about human centipedes, because I don't, but there are at least three things I'm sure of: Nobody wants to be involved in one, there is absolutely no good reason why the mayor of a city should ever be experimenting with one, and, if you absolutely have to be a part of one, it's always best to be the guy in the front."

The experiment, which has allegedly been going on for the past six months, is said to be overseen by a mysterious Dr. Karl Von Asstomouth, who was last in the news after allegations of having a ridiculous last name caused him to retire from the medical field forever. Until, of course, he allegedly began abducting Quincy residents and sewing their faces to other people's asses.

Dr. Karl Von Asstomouth, caring for his human centipede in the comfort of his home.

"The city is in no way experimenting with a human centipede," lied mayoral aide Joe Schlopp. "Let me just assure you of that right now. Even if we were, why would it matter? Wouldn't you want to know if it could work? I mean, we're talking about technology that can literally connect one man's face to another man's ass. If people could survive that way, the entire city could become one giant centipede, leaving all the pizza for me and the mayor. I'm not saying that's what we're attempting here, but I also won't insult anybody's intelligence and say that it hasn't at least crossed my mind. This is a 'turn a blind eye' situation, if there ever was one. The human centipede could work, if we could only find a way. And, with any luck, we will find that way. One day, we will all eat from the ass of the mayor, and it will be glorious."

There is no word yet as to whether Schlopp realizes that, if the entire city were to become a giant centipede, there would be no one left to cook pizza. However, the possibility that Schlopp himself knows how to make his own pizza, while slim, does exist. But experts claim that Schlopp not only couldn't cook his own pizza, but can barely eat it without getting over half of it on the mayor's beautiful $18,000 carpet.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Quincy goes international as Dee Dee's Lounge announces opening of dive bar in Hong Kong

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

In a stunning turn of events, former Wollaston watering hole, Dee Dee’s Lounge, has relocated to the Wah Lei Stun district of Hong Kong in a bold and brazen attempt to “turn the tables" on the things. By openly treating it’s long term business goals like a 4th grade game of checkers, the infamous beer depository has upped the stakes in the non-existent rivalry of authentic Chinese cuisine and authentic, unlicensed Quincy drunk-tanks.

Buck Tooth, the muscle relaxer popping owner of Dee Dee’s Lounge, has personally vowed to make his establishment a 24-hour “pain in the ass” to the entire Wah Lei Stun neighborhood.

“You wanna kick us out of our spot?" Tooth said. "Well, we’ll see what happens. I sold my house and most of my neighbor’s house to bring the entire Dee Dee’s Lounge building over to Hong Kong. We’re going to be open twice as late, have twice as many bad hardcore bands play, have twice as much puke on the sidewalk outside, and have roughly six times more Nowhere USA stickers on the streetlights outside. That’s a promise you can take to the bank, four-eyes!”

While it’s too early to tell if the bar will thrive in it’s new surrounds, locals who were interviewed remained highly optimistic. “Very good,” mumbled Zhang O’Douls, between slugs of counterfeit Evan Williams. Pausing briefly to vomit on his bootleg Shot Dead t-shirt, O’Douls was heard to whisper to no one in particular that “white people are pouring into this neighborhood and stealing all of our bartending jobs.”

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Quincy residents unwilling to kick costly Koch habit, redheads mourn throughout city

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the Patriot Ledger

Winning the election by more than two thousand votes, Mayor Thomas Koch defeated rival Bill Phelan in the first mayoral rematch Quincy has seen in 75 years.

Celebrating his victory at the Elks Lodge on Quarry Street, Koch addressed his supporters to thank them for what had become a long and tiresome campaign for all.

“The people of Quincy have spoken,” the mayor said. “And the people of Quincy are not yet willing to give up on Koch. No matter how much of their hard-earned money is carelessly spent, and no matter how bad of an idea they know it is, the people of Quincy will always choose Koch. Because Koch will never let you down. And I will make myself accessible to anyone in this fine city who needs me. I will, first and foremost, make sure that Koch is available to any citizen who may need Koch. If you need Koch at three o’clock in the morning, then you will get Koch. No more driving around in the middle of the night, desperately calling people on your cell phone, frantically searching for Koch. No more waiting in line at parties for your chance to get in on the action. Every citizen will get their fare share of Koch. From now on, Koch will be a part of every Quincy resident’s life, and that is a promise. This city was built on people who love Koch, and I will show this city my appreciation in the coming two years. Because this is a city that needs as much Koch as it can get. Long live Koch!”

At this moment, a poorly choreographed dance number broke out, which consisted of Freak Nasty’s “Da Dip” playing at an ear-shattering volume, while the newly re-elected mayor began grinding with all who passed.

Mayor Thomas Koch, busting out a slick freestyle over the beat of "Da Dip."

“That mayor had some pretty spicy dance moves,” said Andrea Whitman, a girl who once left her pants, driver’s license, and credit card at Paddy Barry’s. “He came right up to me and put his hand upon my hip. And then, as I remember, I think he dipped, then I dipped, and then we dipped. It might have been the other way around, but I’m fairly confident it was in that order. Either way, it was great to see him. I was fucking shitfaced, and I’m always in the mood for a little Koch when I’m drinking. They just go together so well.”

Breaking out into the crowd, the mayor then grabbed a microphone and began singing along with the music until his chord was eventually unplugged by an unidentified caterer.The festivities then came to a close, as authorities responded to disturbance call and ordered all those in attendance to “go the fuck home.”

The people of Quincy then parted ways, each of them heading to their own, separate abodes. But each of them with a little piece of Koch to take home with them. They knew that they, too, needed Koch. They were addicted to Koch. And no matter what common logic would suggest, they knew that they wanted to live in a city that was ruled by Koch. They needed a city that was filled with ridiculous highway passes and on-ramps, and giant islands filled with nothing but benches and trees. They didn’t wish to keep bars like Tully’s Café or the Granite Rail. And they certainly didn’t want a Registry of Motor Vehicles so conveniently located in the center of town. They just needed to rip apart roads, knock down buildings, buy plush carpeting, and spend more on taxes. It was a dream they all shared, and a dream that had become true, at least for another two years. And with that, the entire city shut their lights off and went to bed. And they all lived pennilessly ever after.

All in all, it was a bad day for redheads.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Candidates squabble during last-minute bid for votes, Tom Jones somehow involved

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

Mayor Thomas Koch and former mayor Bill Phelan almost came to blows today in the final hours of what has become one of the most ridiculous mayoral races Quincy has ever had to deal with.

From accusations of overspending, overeating, overtly lying, and improper reporting of overages, both sides of the race have made them all. Whether it be about carpets, belly size, hair color, or something that actually has something to do with the city, no mercy was shown throughout the long and grueling battle that many are glad in drawing to a close.

It was a battle that some have called "a battle that shook the world."

"That was a battle that shook the world," said Mark Doherty, a Dorchester resident who has absolutely nothing to do with the election. "I mean, I've only been to Quincy sixteen times, but, every time I was there, people would be talking about this dude 'Tommy Taxes,' and then this other dude, who I think was nicknamed 'The Red Power Ranger,' and they'd always get all worked up about it. This one time, back when my band used to play Dee Dee's, I saw this one dude spike another dude's Bud Light with thirty-seven hits of Ecstasy, just because he was a Koch supporter. That poor guy was dry humping people's faces all night long. He even ended up on YouTube."

There is no word yet on whether, or not, Doherty's face was dry humped on that fateful night at Dee Dee's Lounge, although expert facial characteristic analyst, Claude Jonestown, believes it was.

"That kid's face definitely got fucked at Dee Dee's," claimed Jonestown, as he awkwardly soothed his nipples with a cranberry-scented moist towelette. "You can tell by the way his right eyeball would rapidly spin in circles every time he talked about that night. Either that or he was on a bunch of shit. Who knows?"

Mayoral candidate Bill "The Red Power Ranger" Phelan and gang, walking a dog to the polls

The confrontation between candidates began at the Dunkin' Donuts on Quincy Shore Drive in the early afternoon, when Koch and Phelan ended up grabbing for the same Great One regular, causing an instant rush of tension to fill the sea-scented air.

Mayor Koch, hungry for the support of his registered voters, then reportedly reached for a nearby cruller and began devouring it in a most hideous manner, screaming, "I win! I'm the mayor! I control everything! It's my turn! I'm takin' it out on you! The world is mine, and no one can take it from me!"

It was at this point that former mayor Bill Phelan began taunting the incumbent, immediately challenging him to a series of wind sprints, quarry jump stunts, and marksmanship games.

"That's when the entire place just started screaming," claimed Silent Mike K., an otherwise quiet individual who was just unable to hold the excitement inside for once. "People were flipping out like it was the Super Bowl. They wanted to see Tommy and Bill go at it, it was clear. They wanted to see a fight. And then that weird thing happened, and nobody in the place even knew what to do, because it was just too weird. And sudden."

What reports say is, at this moment, Darlene Grapefruit, a mother of twelve from Squantum, dropped to the ground and began convulsing like an epileptic freak.

Aside from her exact name, amount of children, and location of residence, all that was known about this woman is that her husband, Ricky Grapefruit, had just gone to a Tom Jones concert seven days prior. And when Darlene Grapefruit's legs spread open, and everyone in the Dunkin' Donuts dropped to their knees in horror, it only further proved the theory that, if you go to a Tom Jones concert, seven days later, Tom Jones crawls out of your wife.

I actually have this exact poster in my room. I'm not even kidding, either.

With complete silence in the establishment, Tom Jones then performed "Sex Bomb" to the confused, yet oddly intrigued, patrons. Whether fat or skinny, no female was exempt from being smothered by the sight of his slippery glances and gyrating hips. It was the kind of thing you picture when you imagine a Sozio Furniture salesman doused in Clubman® brand after shave lotion, as he is unleashed into a crowd only moments after drinking his third consecutive bottle of Stoli Razberi. It was a really disgusting scene.

"It was fucking gross," exclaimed Michael "Mid-Div" Triangle, last in the news after a failed attempt at trying to convince somebody that the Beatles sucked. "Tom Jones was just dancing around and being wicked gross, and he was still covered in bodily fluid. It was horrible. He was fingering people's wives. He was fingering people's teenage daughter's. He even fingered my chicken parm flatbread. I don't even know what happened to Koch and Phelan through this. I think they just snuck out the back door and took off. They left us to deal with Tom Jones. Tom Jones became our responsibility. It was just too much for us to bear---so we burned him---we burned him and that whole building down to the ground. It was exactly what anyone else would have done if they were in our situation. I'm completely sure of that."

Monday, November 2, 2009

Sparks fly on eve of Election Day as heated mayoral race nears close

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

Tensions flared this evening as one of the most heated mayoral races this city has ever seen drew to a close at a last-minute debate, which was held at an undisclosed VFW on Broad Street.

Among those in attendance were Mayor Thomas Koch, former mayor Bill Phelan, and approximately two hundred drunken residents, each with something to say.

Incumbent Mayor Thomas Koch, recently sponsored by Papa Gino's, was said to have lost the debate after flying into a fit of rage after realizing that his pizza crust had not been cooked to the golden brown perfection he was used to, resulting in one of the largest, most chaotic riots Quincy has witnessed since Halloween weekend.

"That muthafucka went crazy up in this world," claimed Neal Diamondz, a wicked good kid from the Hospital Hill section of Quincy. "Once he bit into that crust, you could almost feel the air in the room get thicker. Nobody could breathe. It was like an episode of the fuckin' Twilight Zone in there. Shit got weird for a minute. That fat mayor started screaming Madball lyrics and whipping chairs across the room. And then, that red-headed dude who used to be mayor had to hold the fat one back until the cops came. That redhead knew what was up, too. To quote the three hundred and eighty-seventh best rapper of all time, he got all up in his face and was like, 'Fat boy on a diet. Don't try it. I'll check ya ass like a looter in a riot.' It was pretty much the funniest thing I had ever seen. That redhead just grabbed the fat one and started ringing his neck like he was fuckin' Ike Turner."

Stopping for a brief photo op with notorious Quincy gangster, Desmond Brianalli, Diamondz continued. "That debate was the best party I had ever been to. I endorse Bill Phelan. He knows how to man-up and handle a situation."

Brianalli and Diamondz, mugging it up for the camera on a sultry afternoon.

Authorities were dispatched to the undisclosed VFW almost immediately, where they were faced with fierce rioting and the horrible intentions of it's inhabitants. Tear gas was released into the function hall, although this had little, to no, effect on the crowd, as most of those in attendance were already immune.

A special tactical team was then sent in, however, they quickly surrendered to the ensuing madness, as all offensive fighting techniques were immediately mistaken as "sick-as-fuck dance moves," which eventually led up to what was later referred to as "one of the better dance-offs of 2009."

"There was nothing left to do," claimed Officer Nico Haylen, as he attempted to explain why the police department was unable to perform the task at hand. "Our strategy to go after these rioters was very simple. First, we were gonna cut them off, then we were gonna kill them. But it didn't go that way. They were too powerful. That's when I knew we had no other choice. So, I turned to Chuck, and I said, 'Send 'em on their way.' And in went the Whitman girls."

The Whitman girls, still dressed in their Halloween costumes, fucking some dude up.

Armed with nothing but consumed vodka and inherent rage, the Whitman girls were unleashed on the crowd by authorities, where they proceeded to beat the living shit out of anything that even moved. Making their next move, authorities then began pumping Nightstick through the windows at top volume. All through Broad Street, the droning, hypnotic sounds of Weymouth's finest filled the air, causing authorities and criminals alike to drop to their knees in utter fear and confusion.

"That fuckin' music is weird," remarked Heather LeWetone, an aspiring Dunkin' Donuts shift supervisor and director of the direct-to-DVD smash hit, Green Street Hooligans III: Bad Times in Bingtown. "Fuckin' Weymouth, dude. What a bunch of weird people. I don't understand Weymouth. Nobody does. And they never will."

As the festivities then came to a close, a familiar face arrived, causing many in the audience to begin instantly vomiting.

Cheryl "Ruthless Toothless" McShirelle, posing for a most unfortunate camera.

"Everything was fine until Ruthless Toothless showed up," said Ham Dangleton, an all-around wacky guy from the wrong side of the MBTA tracks. "Nobody likes that girl. You can't even get a fucking blowjob from her because of all the partial teeth she has in her head. There ain't a single full tooth in that head, but there's a little bit of each one. It's like no one tooth is willing to die. There's always a little bit of one that sticks around. It's fucking gross."

There is no word yet on the expected outcome of tomorrow's election, nor has there been any word on how long exactly Ruthless Toothless plans on staying in town. The answer to these questions may never be known, although it is expected that the answer to the first question will more than likely be known at some point tomorrow.