Notorious late-night Facebook "poker" raises eyebrows, creeps out every girl in Quincy

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

An infamous user of the popular Facebook internet social networking website has created a stir of controversy in Quincy lately with his ruthless after-hours “poking” of other users.

It all started last weekend when Jimmy Babble, a gas station attendant from Hough's Neck, reportedly "poked" over a hundred Quincy girls in a one hour period, just after getting home from a night of Jägerbombs at the Hofbrau, making it the largest mass-poking Quincy has seen since the last time Neal Diamondz drank Red Bull and vodka.

I don't even know the kid that well," commented Lauren Quinnakid, a lifelong Burger King employee from Wollaston Hill. "He sent me a friend request a while back because he fingered some girl I knew in the Murphy's bathroom one night and then made me give him a ride home. Other than that, I don't know the kid from a fucking hole in the wall. Either way, there's really no reason why I should have to deal with signing onto Facebook this morning to find out that he poked me twenty-three times at the ass-crack of dawn."

Trish “The Dish” Delaney, a seventeen-year-old single mother from Germantown, was also visibly shaken by Babble’s online antics. “I logged onto Facebook last night to create a profile for my baby boy who’s due next month. I’ma name him Eminem Marshall Delaney, right? But I log in and this creep has poked me fourteen times in one night. What the heck, right? Dude is mad sketchy, but I can tell by his shades he might have a few bucks, so I poked him back. You never know, baby’s gotta eat, right?”

Other complaints continued to pour in throughout the day, giving the hardworking moderators of Facebook a run for their money. And after all front doors were locked, and all blinds drawn, there was nothing left for the female population of Quincy to do but wait.

"It's a scary world we live in," remarked Desiree Anthony, a die-hard Deadwood fan from Quincy Point. "You get these kids who are too shy to ever say anything to you in person, and then, before you know it, they're poking you on Facebook while you sleep. On behalf of every girl in Quincy, I feel pretty creeped out. It's good to know that people can't even sleep without getting violated online. I'll probably start using MySpace a little more now, to say the least. Dudes are disgusting"

While local police are powerless to stop Babble from accessing the internet due to his bizarre ability to always find free wi-fi hotspots, the social networking site's founder and CEO, Safo Face, has issued a statement that his account has been deactivated, and he will no longer be able to participate in their service. “What’s up now, dude?” stated Mr. Face after minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Although this drastic measure has spelled relief for most of the female populace, others were disheartened to learn that the poking has not ceased. Literally minutes after his account was deactivated, Babble was spotted creeping around in the shadows of Bad Abbots Irish Pub in Quincy Center, poking girls in the back with a piece of wood he acquired in the parking lot. Unfortunately, no further charges could be brought against him as this was considered perfectly normal behavior by the jaded bar staff.

OxyContin awarded "Official Drug of Quincy"

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

After only ten minutes of deliberation, OxyContin was awarded the "Official Drug of Quincy" at the first ever Quincy Drug Awards, receiving a sixteen minute standing ovation that was said to have been "more intense than a fucking Hitler speech."

The Quincy Drug Awards, which were being held to celebrate the mayor's highly criticized "If You Cant' Beat 'Em, Join 'Em" campaign, took place at the George F. Bryan VFW on Broad Street this afternoon. The award ceremony, which consisted of approximately ten fold-up tables, strategically placed to avoid the well-known water leaks of the establishment, catered to hundreds of spectators, separated into thirteen groups, each representing the different sections of the city.

Tommy Shanasty, a Level 1 Sex Offender who represented Germantown's interests in the event, could not have been more pleased. "Our main worry here was that people were gonna go with weed. It seemed like the obvious choice. People never wanna come right out and admit how many OCs they take a day, but, the way I look at it, if you know everybody's on them, what's there to be ashamed about? I think OxyContin is a misunderstood drug, and it needs to be reevaluated. To tell you the truth, OxyContins have gotten me and my friends through some really hard times."

As to whether, or not, these hard times had actually derived from taking OxyContin, Shanasty was unable to respond, as he nodded out in the middle of the interview and was eventually taken out of the VFW by stretcher.

Though all seemed to fare well with the landslide victory for OxyContin, there was trouble in paradise, as representatives of Squantum made their opinions on the matter quite vocal. "This is outlandish," shrieked Jacia Hearn, a fan favorite at Paddy Barry's "open mic night," known for his ability to elevate to madness at the drop of a dime. "Everybody knows that acid is the best drug out there, especially when you mix it up with some shrooms. Toss in a couple blasts of nitrous, you got yourself a great night. And don't even get me started on coke, kid. That shit has been known to make me lose my fucking mind."

The ceremony then came to an abrupt close as a West Quincy kid apparently caught his two-timing girlfriend giving "the eye" to a socially prominent Montclair kid, resulting in the most insane domestic dispute Quincy has ever seen.

Authorities demand to know which Quincy kid used a fucking white lighter

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

Authorities are looking for a man in his mid-twenties who has been said to have been carrying a white Bic lighter, going against the unspoken code of ethics that binds all Quincy residents.

The "Curse of the White Lighter," which has plagued this city with much unneeded fear and countless tragedies over the years, can be traced back nearly thirty-five years, when Joe "Quincy Face" McClusky purchased a white lighter from behind the bar at The Sag in North Quincy. According to local folklore, McClusky awoke the following morning to find himself at the Ritz Motel, handcuffed to a dead hooker.

"Joe McClusky is the first documented case of the curse," said Paul McGranite, a wealthy investor, and author of You're Fuckin' Done, Kid: Curse of the White Lighter. "And the worst part is, they never did find the key to those handcuffs. He had to carry that dead hooker around with him for the rest of his life. It was as if he was suffering for the sins of everyone in Quincy, and the dead hooker was his cross to bear. And, after a while, he began to feel love for that hooker. But he was so far gone by then that nobody ever saw him much."

Since then, countless documented events relating to white lighters have formed the perfect pattern to describe a full blown curse. Most recently, an unnamed man was spotted using a white Bic lighter at a barbecue in North Quincy, resulting in one of the largest mustard mishaps ever recorded.

"That guy was a dick," screamed Moranzo Llamas, a day laborer from Quincy, known for his unrelenting thirst for a good time. "I look over at him at this party, and I can see that he's using a white Bic. Everybody in Quincy knows that you can't use a white lighter, it's the longest running curse in the city. And he wasn't just lighting a cigarette, either, he was just flicking it, over and over agan, it was pointless. The next thing I know, the guy walks by me and trips, knocking my hot dog off my plate and onto my favorite shirt. It's this awesome button-up shirt I got that has a bunch of marlins on it, and now I'm gonna have to figure out how to clean an eight inch mustard stain. That dude can eat my fucking ass. He broke the rules."

No further information is known about this mysterious man, as no partygoer would publicly admit to knowing him. Until his whereabouts and intentions are known, authorities have asked all residents to remain calm, and have pleaded with local businesses to stop selling these godforsaken lighters.

Charming kidnapper steals the hearts of Quincy residents, shot dead outside Taco Bell

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

Known kidnapper Karlos Gesuhnteit, who has been using the alias Kent Vanderbuilt, charmed the city with his delightful antics yesterday, but was then shot dead outside a Wollaston Taco Bell.

The kidnapper formerly known as Kent Vanderbuilt built up a hilarious comedy routine outside the Mexican-themed eatery on Hancock Street as crowds gathered to watch and Quincy Police closed in. Wanted for questioning in the disappearance of over seventy children over the course of two weeks, Gesuhnteit was spotted by local snitch, Paulie “Walnutz” O’Brien, feasting on a “double-decker” taco and enjoying a bum fight taking place directly across the street at Alumni Pizza. As authorities rushed to the scene, crowds began to form on the sidewalk when passersby noticed the alleged kidnapper from posters placed throughout the city's fast food parking lots.

"We're just lucky we got there in time," said Officer John Steele. "This is what we in law enforcement consider to be a very dangerous man. In addition to the reported kidnappings, we had received multiple reports about a man lurking creepily behind groups of young girls at Wollaston Beach. And while that is far from abnormal, it is our duty as police officers to look into it, even if it's only to appease the parents. Each of the reported victims are female, each of them being between the age of fifteen and seventeen years old, all of them residing in Quincy. Now, traditionally speaking, the females of Quincy are not particularly attractive women---no offense. It is because of this that we do not believe these kidnappings were of a sexual nature. Nobody is going to kidnap an ugly girl and then just keep her in the basement for weeks and do a bunch of weird shit with her, there's just no reason to. It's pointless to even look for these girls, they're definitely dead. I'd bet a hundred dollars on it right now with anyone willing. He was a charming guy though. He was doing this hilarious juggling act when we arrived at the scene and, I gotta be honest, I almost reholstered my gun and let him continue. It's too bad we had to shoot the guy, he'd probably be able to help out with a lot of questions we're being asked."

In a seemingly unrelated event, authorities apprehended a young man with approximately five hundred pounds of high-grade marijuana after he accidentally rear ended six vehicles when attempting to squeeze in between the mess of police cruisers during the shootout. Buckley Tannerfield, 25, of Wollaston, will plead "not guilty" to charges of attempted distribution, claiming all five hundred pounds of marijuana were for personal use.

"That kid was ridiculous," said Timothy Morton, a flat rate technician from Quincy Point. "Who the hell packs that much weed into a Smart car and thinks they're gonna get away with it? And for what, so he could order a few tacos? That kid must have been stoned out of his fucking mind to pull that shit. You should have seen it though, there was literally full bags of weed just falling out of his car, right in front of the cops. Nice and subtle, dude! Have fun in jail."

Phelan-Koch rematch shows promise of severe ass kicking, has residents ready for war

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

Former three-term mayor William Phelan, who announced last Tuesday that he would officially seek a rematch against Mayor Thomas Koch, is gearing up for what some hope to be the most severe ass kicking ever seen.

Phelan, who had spent the past two months exploring the possibility of a run in the upcoming mayoral election, claims to have received overwhelmingly positive feedback regarding his decision to seek revenge on the vertically-challenged man who fucked him out of his job just two years prior.

"Personally, I hope Phelan kicks the living shit out of him," said Partiana Tarter, a local girl with approximately twelve years of high school under her belt. "I've lived in Quincy my entire life, but when it comes time to buy a home, I'll probably have to look elsewhere, as long as Koch is in office, at least. To be honest, I don't really want my tax dollars going towards another one of the mayor's shag carpeting fiascoes, or his stupid Nike Air Force One collection that nobody seems to wanna talk about. Mayor Koch is not fit to lead, he's barely even a high school graduate. We're talking about a guy who makes city checks out to himself and then launders the money through the Coinstar machine in the Star Market on Granite Street. The dude's a dick, and somebody needs to take him down. What better person to do it than Phelan?"

Other residents seemed to have very similar views on the upcoming election, alleging that Mayor Koch has done little-to-nothing for his constituents, spending nearly all city funds on selfish, personal items, such as outlandish toga parties, trips to Venice, a Bose stereo system, an extravagant granite bust of himself, and an over-the-top Dodge Magnum SRT-8 with twenty-inch rims and a custom shark skin interior. "Life under Koch has been hard for the working man," remarked Terrence Billings, a local black. "Mayor Koch is a revolting, unsightly creature, where Phelan is basically just a normal looking human being. It's really not hard. Let's bring Quincy back to what it used to be, folks. It's time to change the sheets."

Uncle Sam billboard on Newport Ave yet again fails to impress, causes lynch mob antics

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of a Nextel i580 cell phone

Yet another sub-par billboard has been put up on the corner of Beale Street and Newport Avenue by none other than Uncle Sam Rounseville, the borderline psychotic real estate agent known for having his name legally changed to "Uncle Sam" in a ridiculous attempt to become the most patriotic dickhead in Quincy.

"I'm getting pretty sick of looking at these things," barked Stina Bellcamp, a master of biomedical veterinary science, and occasional Miller High Life enthusiast. "And the new one just says 'I Shall Return,' and has some stupid Century 21 logo on it. I'm pretty sure that everybody in Quincy already knows that there's no risk of this dude ever going away. Some people just don't know when they're not wanted, and they just keep putting up stupid billboards, and then, even though nobody ever laughs at a single one of them, they just keep putting more up, and it really gets on my fucking nerves. I will never buy a house from Century 21, nobody should. Not after this shit."

Just last night, a lynch mob of sorts showed up at the dreaded corner with pitchforks and torches and attempted to burn the billboard down, releasing Quincy of it's overbearing grasp. Officer Nico Haylen commented on the situation. "As of recently, I've been stationed to this one particular corner, not for any big reason, just a few jams I've gotten myself in, but whatever. I have no idea what is going on with this billboard, or why anyone would actually change their name to Uncle Sam. I didn't ask for this corner, I just got put here until some shit that's going on in my life dies down a bit. I don't understand this Uncle Sam guy's methods, I don't know what his intentions are, I don't necessarily see eye-to-eye with his vague sense of humor, and anybody that disagrees with me is taking one in the kneecap. I know that probably doesn't sound like top-notch police work, but, trust me, it's the only way I know how to keep this city from exploding."

Hundreds of Quincy residents, as well as one ironworker from Abington, have mailed Uncle Sam Rounseville letters, all pleading with him to stop the madness, or, at the very least, make an actual attempt at being funny. All letters, however, have been ignored, making it far too apparent that Uncle Sam has no intentions of leaving, but more so has full intentions of an inevitable return.

Mayor keeps framed photograph of himself on desk, admits to being attracted to own face

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

In a disgusting turn of events, Mayor Thomas Koch has admitted to the public that he keeps a framed photograph of himself on his desk. The photograph, which was spotted in the mayor’s office this weekend by a Jacuzzi installer from Lowell, was described by the mayor himself as “god-like” and “so fucking hot.”

“I’ve always found women to be magnetically drawn to me,” the mayor commented. “Sometimes, I will just look at myself in the mirror for hours, repeating verses from Genesis. Sometimes, it’s the band Genesis, other times, it’s the Bible. It doesn’t really matter to me. Both of them have some pretty amazing quotes.”

“This is some of the most narcissistic bullshit this city has ever seen,” said Tribble “Fat Goose” Walker, a local historian and author of Stop Being a Dick: An In-Depth Guide to Some of the Most Self-Absorbed Assholes in Quincy. “I don’t want to come right out and say that he’s a hideous man, but he’s ridiculously short, and there’s really no reason that any photograph of him should ever been framed. I’ve partied with underage girls that were taller than him, it’s hilarious. And I know plenty of ladies in this town that have said the guy is hung like a salted cashew.”

“It all just seems a little egotistical,” stated Audrey Baloney, Boston’s eighth highest regarded rooftop criminal analyst. “It’s just so overboard. I mean, seriously, who keeps a picture of themselves in their own office? It’s borderline psychotic. Part of me is glad that the mayor is happy with his own appearance, but the other half of me has no idea how he possibly could be. I mean, this is nothing short of a complete waste of a frame. I used to be in the business of frame making, before I started analyzing rooftop crime, that is. I know how much hard work and effort goes into the making of a frame, and I wouldn’t want to find out that one of my pieces was being used for a photograph of some crazy, swollen-headed man in a child’s body.”

Further suspicion arose on Sunday evening, when the mayor painted his face in goat’s blood and was marched through Quincy Center on chariot, causing a general state of confusion among dozens of spectators. “It was like something Julius Caesar would have done,” remarked Kara Siley, a local bartender and heiress to the most powerful restaurant dynasty in Quincy. “It was actually pretty hilarious.”

"Atomic BBQ" to be featured at Beachcomber tonight, question marks abound

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

According to the popular bar's website, an "Atomic BBQ" of some kind will be featured tonight at the Beachcomber on Quincy Shore Drive in the Wollaston Beach section of the city, causing most residents in the area to face the fact that they have no fucking idea what that means.

"Is there a band called Atomic BBQ or are they talking about food?" asked Neal James, a notorious party animal from Wollaston, known for his constant use of overly-aggressive karate chops. "I certainly hope they're talking about food, they always have the finest meals here. The Beachcomber pizza is amazing. It's got cheese on it, some sauce, a little bit of crust, and thirty-seven spices, each of them more bowel-wrenching than the last. And it's definitely not frozen pizza, not at all. There's just no fucking way. It's always fun seeing how many slices I can take down before those mysterious spices hit me right where it counts and I end up crawling to the bathroom just to find out there's no toilet paper. Then comes the second round of the game, where it's a race against time while I try to make it to my house at about 90mph with no less than twelve beers in me. I can only imagine what the barbecue would do to me. I can't wait."

Others who spoke out on this story seemed blinded by confusion and misunderstanding of the vague event listing. "I must find and harness the atomic power of the Beachcomber," said Jefar Kayik, a small-scale terrorist who is constantly sending Quincy officials VHS tapes full of wacky demands, such as the one we received, which was sent to chief correspondent Brunk Edwards. "The tyrannical rule of Mayor Thomas Koch shall come to an end, and I, like almighty Allah, shall be free." Anxiously adjusting his turban, and, for a moment, exposing to the viewer what appears to be a Misfits shirt, Jefar explained further. "Every day that goes by without me receiving the atomic power will result in the assassination of one Quincy resident. I shall cut off their heads, and I shall tear the flesh from the bone. Demon I am and face I peel, all praise the almighty Allah."

Those who are familiar with the Beachcomber, however, seemed uninterested in the upcoming festivities, telling tales of overpriced cigarettes, ridiculous ATM charges, bathroom vending machines that sell glow-in-the-dark cock rings, and the misleading sales tactics of their jello shot girls. "They're so deceiving," said Neal Diamondz, a hard-as-nails rap artist from Hospital Hill. "Those jello shot girls always make me think that they want to be my girl, and that I got something lined up for after closing, but then, after the last shot of the night, they're nowhere to be found. I don't know if they're just sociopathic bitches, or maybe they're taking off with some other dude, but, either way, it never ends up being me. Whatever though, they can go fuck those dudes, I don't care. It don't matter, I ain't even trying to fuck these hoes. More than anything, I just want some free jello shots. There's nothing quite like the feeling you get when you have hard liquor sliding down your throat in solid form, especially when it's making it's way through your esophagus at the speed of a slug. Anyway, fuck the Beachcomber. Didn't that place have a night called Dinkstock a few months back? What was that, like, a gay night, or something?"

As to the exact plans for the evening, employees of the Beachcomber were unable to respond, as they are known for working the "banker's hours" of 12:00PM to 1:00AM, and are most likely still passed out in the pile of drugs and sweat. For those who are brave enough to find out on their own, the event is rumored to begin sometime around 9:00PM, and is bound be full of thrilling surprises, no matter which direction it takes. "As a scientist, I would advise all attendees of said barbecue to wear some form of a radiation protector on their crotch," said Matty Hammers, a well respected scientist who once lived on Pearl Street in South Quincy. "Anybody who has a crotch, and more importantly, anyone who has a reproductive system they plan on possibly using someday, should know that I'm being dead serious about this. Science is no laughing matter, and atomic power isn't always as hilarious as it seems. It actually kills people, believe it, or not. And to be honest, it turns testicles into something so ridiculous looking that I can already tell I'm not going to be ordering lunch today, just from thinking about it. Seriously, do a Google image search on it someday, it's fucking disgusting."

Quincy Scallion's approaching deadline looms large for potential New York Times buyout

BREAKING NEWS: QUINCY SCALLION'S 50th FUCKING ARTICLE!!!
Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

The Quincy Scallion’s hardball offer to buyout the New York Times is fast approaching it’s deadline of Friday June 5, 2009.

The two sides have yet to reach a final agreement on the offer as of this time, with the closing hours building stress and pressure for all involved, and creating a wave of nervous apprehension in the loyal readers of both institutions.

Talks began between the two media powerhouses last month in light of the recent economic struggles and falling stock prices that have plagued the Times. While many analysts predicted an outside force to buy the faltering New York paper, none could have imagined the rapid and aggressive campaign conducted by the upstart Quincy Scallion online news source.

The Scallion, or “Scally,” as it has become known to it's subscribers, has emerged as the South Shore’s leading source of fake and often downright slanderous news. It’s wildly inaccurate reporting techniques and ability to skirt publishing laws and codes of conduct have resulted in a fast growing readership and multiple pending lawsuits. Past breaking news stories exclusively covered by the Scallion include homeless people reacting hysterically to helicopters, neighborhood warfare over a newly built donut shop, and reoccurring reports on a criminally negligent diabetic cop. The New York Times, however, has yet to report on even the latest Madball gigs being played in it's own backyard.

“The Scally is the only news source I trust,” said Stephanie Tannerfield, a fiscally conservative hippie from the woods of Hospital Hill. “All I do all day is just read the Quincy Scallion and get fucking roasted in my tee pee, it’s awesome. I wouldn’t read the New York Times if the pages were made out of double-dipped blotter acid. That's not to say I wouldn't smash the entire paper in my fucking face, if that were the case, I just wouldn't read the thing. That would be awesome though, if newspapers were made out of acid, especially if nobody knew about it. Everybody would be all fucked up on the train going to work---faces melting, people flipping the fuck out, people trying to eat their own faces, everybody fucking shittin' their pants, bodily fluids all over the place, people flipping the fuck out---it'd be hilarious.”

Other residents of the South Shore had their own tales of satisfaction to tell. “I’ve been reading the Scallion for months now,” said Jaime Curbkick, a gambling man from the west side of town. “Two months to be exact---you know---since it started up. I’m not saying it’s for everyone, but if you live in the South Shore, there’s no other news source around that’s gonna help you keep tabs on the awkward happenings of Father Bill's Place. From what I've read about that wacky homeless shelter, the place sounds like a wild ride, to say the very least. And it's always good to know when Obama is gonna be swimming at Orchard Beach in Squantum. Honestly, I can't stand driving down Quincy Shore Drive when it's all backed up. I always get stuck in the very middle of it and then realize I have to take dump, it never fucking fails.

But not all readers of the Scallion agree with those who have so lovingly praised it since it's inception. "Well fuck my fucking face," snapped Gene Schlotsky, a former entrepreneur from Montclair. "The Quincy Scallion has got to be the least credible, most absolute horseshit, news source I have ever read. The only person they ever seem to get to comment on these Quincy events is some absolute dipshit ironworker from Abington. Who the fuck cares what some Abington guy has to say? Certainly not me, that's for sure. If I want a good local news source, I'll go with the Quincy Sun. Now that's a solid newspaper."

In a blatant disregard for an impartial view of these events, the Scallion has set up multiple interview stations around the city in hopes of capturing the man-in-the-street opinions of Joe Public. Most notably, the awkwardly placed “Scall-Zone” interview desk located directly in the intersection of Billings and Hancock in North Quincy was removed due to several complaints and four vicious-as-fuck car accidents. Other stations, however, fared much better in both gathering info and maintaining civil safety, allowing for multiple residents of the area to finally voice their opinion.

“I’m surprised that it’s taking this long, there’s a lot going on in Quincy that people around the country need to know about,” replied Frankie O’Toole, a burgeoning car thief from South Quincy who answered the Scallion only after our reporter swore not to reveal his true name (Marky “The Sharky” Shea).

Zip Flaherty, no relation to Flahr Zipperty, creator of the ZipCar franchise, responded quite enigmatically that “this is a classic example of the proverbial tail wagging the dog.” Nervously massaging his crotch, he went on to explain that "Brunk Edwards makes me think thoughts I never thought I'd think before."

Steve Chabot, a wandering schizophrenic with severe bipolar disorder responded to the news with a stunning display of random information. “Park officials, after draining the Quincy Quarries in 1995, following the death of PJ McDonough, discovered a long buried treasure which was spent over the next five years on Keno, scratch tickets, and a wild outing on the Cape.” Chabot later added that “based on Neilson figures across America, Two and a Half Men enjoys it’s highest ratings in Quincy.”

But no matter what people have been saying, whether it's commemorative plaque-worthy praise, or over-the-top, career-crushing criticism, no one can deny the fact that the Scallion has finally made it's mark in the world of journalism. Whether it's news about the change of ownership at a local breakfast place, the mayor decking his office out with high-priced "gifts" from the taxpayers, or just some literary prose about Quincy kids getting fucked up on drugs, the one thing that is for sure is that the Quincy Scallion has a bright future ahead. And no matter how many enemies this news source has made---whether it's a previously anonymous poster who now goes by the name "Sweden" or just an absolute piece of shit like John Moran who likes to go against us in our comments section (SEE HERE)---no one can deny the fact that there is no place to go but up, because when you start from the bottom, there's just no going down. Just don't necessarily hold us to that.

As to the potential buyout of the New York Times, only time will tell. It is the professional opinion of the Scallion that the Times is not only a far inferior news source, but also significantly less ridiculous, therefore offering absolutely no use to anyone who doesn't completely suck. Keep reading---please!

Third time's a charm as mayor and TV pitchman pawn rare trophy off on gullible businessman

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of Microsoft Paint

In an attempt to raise much needed funds for the city, Mayor Thomas Koch recently acquired the help of infamous television pitchman, Billy Mays, pawning off a rare soccer trophy to one of the most gullible businessmen Quincy has ever seen.

The trophy, which was originally made to award the runner-up in 1988's Quincy Youth Soccer championship, had a fairly noticeable misspelling on it, stating "QUINCY YOUTH SOCCER CHAMPIONSHIT" in a cheaply gold plated embedment, causing it to be set aside for over two decades. It was this misspelling, as well as the age of the trophy, that contributed the necessary factors needed to fall into place in order for it to be considered a "worthy collectible." The trophy, which was valued last Tuesday at a mere $7.00, was sold to the unnamed businessman at the inflated price of $12,500.00 in a privately held auction at the Marriott Hotel in Quincy, making it one of the biggest ass rapings the city has ever pulled on anybody in the past twenty-five years.

"I knew I couldn't get rid of that thing on my own," commented Mayor Koch. "Trophies like the one we sold today have been collecting dust in the basements of city properties for years, and I knew that, if anybody was going to help me pawn that thing off, it was gonna be Billy Mays. I gotta say, I just love his selling techniques, and I have never once found the overpowering level of his voice to be anything less than perfectly necessary. The way I see it, Billy Mays helped this beautiful city make a very large profit today. That trophy probably cost the city about one dollar to make, and after the two grand we're paying the Marriott for the hall space, the rest is just gravy. For a second there, I didn't think we would ever get rid of that thing. We've tried on two separate occasions to auction it off before, but to no avail. We just don't have the competitive edge that Billy has. Everybody had a great time though, I'll tell you that much. You should have seen me up there, I literally couldn't stop laughing when I was handing that trophy to him. That guy got rooked."

When asked if this business venture would pave way for further dealings with the mayor, Billy Mays declined to show any signs of interest in the matter. "Honestly, he's not really my type of guy," he explained. "I won't lie, when it comes down to it, I'm a mercenary. I'll work for anybody who needs me, as long as they have the money, and when there's an option between two jobs, I'll always work for the highest bidder. But with all due respect, Mayor Koch is just a little too liberal for my tastes. I'm a capitalist by nature, and you can bet your ass I vote for the elephant every time. And just like any other self-respecting Republican, I would eat a newborn baby if it meant I could make my pockets fat. Funny, actually, because that's literally what I had for lunch today---baby kabobs. I'm a handsome, middle aged, conservative male, and I'll tell you right now that I believe life begins at conception---but it ends on the skewer. As bad as it sounds, baby kabobs are delicious, and probably one of the more tender meats I've tried. You can quote me on that shit."

All did not fare well, however, as shortly after the auction, Skip, one of the mayor's top accountants, brought forth some troubling news, as it seemed they had forgotten to factor in the $25,000.00 fee they were paying Billy Mays for his two hours of seemingly needless assistance. This figure, when combined with the cost of the hall rental, and the estimated initial cost of the trophy, factored in with the $12,500.00 received through the auction, placed Quincy approximately $14,501.00 in the red. This major accounting flaw is believed to have not only rendered the entire auctioning process meaningless, but caused much unneeded harm and embarrassment to the taxpayers of the city.

Trigger-happy cop causes massive pile up on Route 3A, blames diabetes yet again

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

Officer Nico Haylen, diabetic cop, most famous for his ability to always make the wrong decision when it counts the most, is yet again in the spotlight after causing a massive pile up on Route 3A. The accident, which occurred during a high speed chase that was initiated by the diabetic himself, left three citizens wounded, one of which is still in critical condition.

Since his beginnings with law enforcement, Haylen, a two-month veteran of the department, has been accused of an overabundance of miscellaneous counts of negligence and overly aggressive abuse of power. Adding on to the existing accusations, adversaries and detractors of Haylen's "loose cannon methods" are now claiming the diabetic has yet again put the public in unnecessary danger, and are calling for his immediate termination from civil service of any form.

The accident, which occurred this morning at approximately 4:38AM, happened just after Haylen passed three Middle Eastern men in an early nineties Buick Riviera, at which point the hyperglycemia-ridden officer allegedly engaged in a high speed chase with the vehicle, eventually running it off the road and flipping it over in front of the Granite Lock Co. on Southern Artery, damaging at least six other vehicles.

Sol Shrewdman, Haylen's on-call attorney, wasted no time defending his client. "Here they go again," he remarked. "Once again, nobody can just mind their own business and go about their day. That would just be too easy, now wouldn't it? Everybody has to add their two cents, don't they? My client has committed no crime, none whatsoever. From my understanding, my client's blood sugar was dangerously low. So dangerous, in fact, that he probably could have died, or even lost a foot. My client is an officer of the law, he needs his feet. These are just a few of the facts, no embellishments, no tomfoolery, just plain and simple facts. He was driving down Route 3A, protecting and serving like he should have been, at which point he spotted three Middle Eastern men in the same vehicle---not one, not two---but three of them. And they were obviously up to no good, if you don't mind me saying. See what I'm saying? Am I right? What were they doing together, why were they driving around so early, what were their intentions? Am I the only one here that remembers two buildings falling to the ground? Open your eyes, people, this is the world we're living in. I ask the public to shut their eyes and picture what could have happened had my client not been there to stop it. No man should be persecuted for preventing what very well may have been the largest scale terror attack Quincy has ever seen---nobody. It's a complete injustice."

Shortly after the accident, Officer Haylen was admitted to Quincy Medical Center, where his blood sugar levels passed with flying colors. Approximately one hour later, Haylen exited the building by way of the media, using a hospital wheelchair, which, according to doctors, was entirely unnecessary. There is no update yet on the status of the man left in critical condition, nor has Haylen or his attorney made any comment on the fact that all three men were deemed to be of Italian decent.

Every single person in Cathay Pacific ordered to "calm the fuck down"

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

Trouble was amidst last night for the Cathay Pacific in North Quincy as every single patron in the restaurant was ordered to "calm the fuck down." It was this occurrence, as well as a long, problematic history of late-night poppycock and hogwash, that has local residents wondering if the Cathay Pacific will ever smarten the fuck up and run their business like normal human beings.

Cathay Pacific, frequented by both sides of the law since the early 1980s (to the best of anyone’s recollection), is located behind the "NORTH QUINCY HIGH GIRLS VOLLEYBALL STATE CHAMPIONS" sign, welcoming foreigners from as far as Gallivan Boulevard, and alerting all competing high school girls’ volleyball teams of the city’s domination of the sport. This is not the first time the restaurant has been ground zero for hooliganism.

"Nobody was even eating," remarked Moranzo Llamas, a shockingly handsome day laborer from West Quincy. "I didn't even get a chance to touch my rangoons, it was that fucking crazy in there. The owner of the place was so pissed off. I haven't seen an Asian man get that red before since my boy, Safo Face, stapled Stevie Wong's nutsack to the desk in 3rd grade."

While confusion and anger reigned supreme inside, crowds gathering outside in the parking lot fared no better. "Gorgeous" George Camaro, a deadbeat father of two from Wollaston, expressed understandable disappointment in the whole affair. “Every time---every fucking time I come here---this is just ridiculous. Can’t a man come out on a Monday night and eat a Pu pu platter for six to his head and just relax?!? Apparently not. I even saw a cop bottle another cop in the back kitchen.” It remains unclear as to why Camaro was in the back kitchen, or where he buys his intense, musky cologne, which the management received several complaints about throughout the night.

While authorities would not come right out and say exactly what occurred in the family restaurant, it is believed by many that they were, in fact, the true instigators of the melee. "Everybody get so crazy wild," commented Donald "Big Guns" Chung, head busboy and occasional karaoke performer at the restaurant. "I try stop crazy, but no one listen. They so crazy wild. Even cop, they no listen either. They so crazy---so crazy wild." But of all the confirmed craziness in what is slowly, but surely, starting to become known as an ordinary night at this poorly regulated eating establishment, the strangest of all is the eyewitness accounts stating that the night ended with two cops dragging a man dressed like Ronald McDonald into the open, wooded area behind State Street Bank and dishing out what they referred to as "the most vicious beating a clown has ever received."

City officials are still debating amongst themselves on lawful action towards the infamous nightspot, even as many of their colleagues recover from being smashed over the head with ceramic scorpion bowls---a favorite weapon of both staff and customer. “There are currently no plans to suspend Cathay Pacific’s liquor license, as that would surely put it out of business,” explained Bob Silly, a completely fabricated drifter from East Squantum Street. “Quincy businesses simply cannot survive without booze. Look at what happened to Christy’s convenience stores.”

The record turnover of staff who simply cannot put up with night after night of childish behavior already costs the restaurant thousands of dollars a month. Adding to the headache, patrons' inability to follow even the most simple rules of courtesy often results in pools of blood and duck sauce running down the pavement towards the Neponset River. All in all, it's a pretty ridiculous place, to say the fucking least.

Mayor Koch removes speed limits on Newport Avenue, unveils Newport Autobahn

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

Following advice from German investors, Mayor Thomas Koch has unveiled his long rumored Newport Autobahn Project. Formerly known to reporters only through smuggled documents labeled “Operation Faster, Furious-er & Safer: Wollaston Drift,” the long rumored motorway project was unleashed on the public today during an outdoor ceremony held in the Wendy’s parking lot on Newport Avenue.

By removing all speed limits, street signs, and rules, the mayor and his newly formed Department of Make Things Way Faster (DMTWF) hopes to create an altogether more enjoyable driving experience on the brand new four-lane superhighway.

“Break out the champagne, Quincy!” screeched the mayor’s aide and newly hired head of the DMTWF, Jeffo Brian. “Long has this city needed a much, much, much faster and more enjoyable way to get from one end of Quincy to the other. By examining footage of the German Autobahn, famous for being the playground of the rich and famous, as well as it’s wicked insane car crashes that leave almost no one alive, and by having a team of researchers watch The Fast and the Furious and The French Connection---back to back, at least twice---we have done it. The Newport Autobahn will begin directly outside the Wendy's in Wollaston and end somewhere near the Monadnock Mountain Spring Water bottling plant next to the Quincy Adams train station. Trust me, this shit is gonna be fucking insane.”

A question-and-answer period then followed the ceremony. “It was just easier to take the signs down at night,” the mayor responded when asked as to why there was absolutely no warning about this extreme change in traffic laws. “Our last meeting ended in a session of heavy drinking at Malachy’s, and we all ran out and started ripping the signs down ourselves. We figured that, since we had already started, we might as well finish.” As to the seemingly arbitrary location of the beginning and end of the superhighway, Jeffo Brian advised that this had already been taken into careful consideration. “Yes, it seems strange to start and end in those places,” he admitted. “But preliminary tests have shown that people love Wendy’s, and now you can just tear right out of the drive-thru and make it to the southbound highway in, like, one minute. Think about that---that’s insane!”

Closer examination of the blueprints, however, scrawled hastily on the back of a flyer for a long-since-past Disengaged show at the now defunct Dee Dee’s Lounge, show that the original scope of the project was originally much larger.

“Yeah, we had some budget issues,” Brian announced. “There was gonna be this nasty jump near the John Adams mansion where, if you timed it just right, you could launch over the train tracks and cut over to Hancock Street. It would’ve saved a lot of time for morning commuters. Also, Skip in the accounting department had an idea for a totally unnecessary ‘loop-de-loop’ at the intersection of Newport and Beale. Thing would have cost about forty billion dollars, but it looked sick on the drawing he made. We’re not ruling out these ideas just yet, but we’ll have to wait for next year’s budget. There's only so much money to go around, you know?”

Wasting little time, the mayor and his aides cut the red ribbon, officially opening up the speedway amidst scattered applause. “He who dares!” Koch yelled, all while taking sips of his complimentary Wendy’s Frosty. “Survival of the fittest!” followed Brian. Unfortunately, the day was not without tragedy, as Jeffo Brian, while testing the project for the very first time, was killed when his car spiraled out of control and collided into 245 Newport Ave in a flaming wreck.

As is standard protocol for any Quincy city official, an autopsy was performed immediately after the remains of Jeffo Brian were found. First hand reports indicate that speed, coupled with a careless disregard for the laws of physics, lack of a driver's license, and an absolute mind-blowing amount of champagne and Frosty’s contributed to his death.

Female crime boss wreaks havoc on South Shore, gets passed off as "that time of month"

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

Maggino Brianalli, reputed female crime boss of Boston's La Chica Nostra faction, was reportedly seen murdering a Quincy man behind Ups N Downs, the notorious Boston bar formerly known as the "Pony Room," causing authorities to prepare for what may be the biggest gang war this area has seen since the late eighties.

"Talk about having a hissy fit," remarked Kevin Hammark, a Quincy local known for his ability to stir the pot. "This is what happens when you put women in charge, they start acting all catty and shit. Somebody better send this bitch a couple bottles of Midol before she starts taking this shit over the bridge. That's the last thing Quincy needs, some menstruating crime boss running around like a freak off it's leash, taking dudes out just because she has cramps and couldn't just settle down and deal with 'em like a normal chick would."

The gang war, which is being fought between organized crime syndicates in Quincy and Boston, has been going on for the past four decades, although was seemingly stagnant until yesterday afternoon, when authorities were dispatched to the scene after residents heard what sounded to be twelve shots fired at approximately 3:18PM. "Both cities are fighting for their right to use Ups N Downs as a meeting place for their gangs," commented Matty Hammers, a criminal scientist known for his constant use of hammers in situations that do not necessarily require them. "You see, Ups N Downs is right on the border between the two cities, and for years, these two factions have been fighting over the right to call it their own. A lot of people don't realize this, but the scene in True Romance with Christopher Walken and Dennis Hopper was actually loosely based on events that took place at that bar. Very loosely though. Either way, it's an excellent bar, with a charming interior, to say the least, so I can understand what all the fuss is about."

"I think we can all see what's going on here," stated Lynn Seagreen, a bartender at Murphy's Twin Shamrocks. "Once again, the men in this area are giving absolutely no credit to a woman who has worked her way up through the ranks of organized crime. Everybody walks around this town and praises Whitey Bulger like he's some type of god, but, when it comes down to it, Maggino Brianalli has achieved much more in a shorter amount of time. But every time she takes someone out, everybody just makes it sound like it was PMS-related. People should just give credit when credit is due, it's fucking ridiculous."

No further reports of violence have been linked to these events, however, it is expected that retaliation on Quincy's part will be implemented sometime before the coming weekend. Possible thoughts for a Quincy retaliation include having Germantown kids crash the wedding of a prominent Boston mobster, sending Brianalli a white Bic lighter in the mail, or possibly bombarding a known Boston mafia club with dozens of "Flaming Dunks," which are nothing more than Molotov cocktails made using a Dunkin' Donuts "Great One" cup. Until then, authorities have warned the public to watch out for any peculiar activity on the Quincy-Boston border, and have offered a $500 reward for any information leading to the location of whoever took such a clear and up-close picture of the shooting.

Wisecracking parrot beaten to death in Furnace Brook Parkway apartment complex

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

Lefty, a well-known parrot from the Wollaston area of Quincy, notorious for his never-ending wisecracks and ridicule of all those who crossed his path, was found dead this morning from what authorities say appeared to be head trauma caused by thirty-to-forty blows with a blunt object. Neighbors who had a history with the bird gathered outside the apartment complex to both answer questions and celebrate.

Val Vickson, a door-to-door Clubman After Shave Lotion salesman who was recently diagnosed with brain tumors and a lisp, quipped that, "Lefty ith probably ruining Thatan’s life down in Hell right about now. I’m tho glad that bird ith dead.”

It is unclear exactly who was responsible for beating the bird to death, but police say there is no shortage of suspects. Officer Nico Haylen explained that the bird was widely hated and even expressed little sympathy himself towards the death. “Look, by law we have to solve this and bring the responsible party to justice. But the last time I drove down this street, I could hear that piece of shit laughing, and I’m almost positive it called me a nerd.”

Neighbors who knew the bird well told tales of constant judgment and mental anguish, claiming even bird lovers had reached the end of their rope with the infamous winged smart aleck. "It was so obnoxious," stated Matty Southside, a wisecracking bird lover from South Quincy. "It was only a matter of time before somebody took him out. He was such an overly opinionated bird. He definitely thought his shit didn't stink---and it did---it smelled like shit."

Abington ironworker Tom Turkolio was the first non-Quincy resident to respond. "Working with iron in Abington has taught me a lot about the psychology of Quincy kids," he remarked. "I don't know if anybody knows this bird's back-story, or not, but he used to belong to Jeff Brophy back in the day. It's pretty obvious why this bird turned out the way he did. He's basically just a Psittacidae version of the biggest dirtbag Quincy has ever seen. I do realize that I'm talking about a parrot---I really do---but we're also talking about a parrot that smoked two packs a day."

Lefty’s owner was unavailable for comment, as was the bird's previous owner, Jeff Brophy. One person who was available, however, was Señor Breadmango, the lovable janitor of the building. Sweating nervously, Breadmango stated that he was “away on business” during the time of the attack. “I clean the building. The bird...it's not a good bird. I don’t like the bird, and the bird…it don’t...it never like me,” he stated in his trademark take on the English language.

Police and other authorities acknowledged that the bird had a spotty record and was the cause of many sitcom-style shenanigans during it’s brief reign of terror in the lower Wollaston area. Arrangements for the bird are to be made private, although a donation can be made in the bird's name to any major cigarette company.