A skeleton with a cleaved skull entombed under a car park is that of the embattled King Richard III, archaeologists said this week. Dammit, I lost the office pool. I had "skeleton with cleaved sternum found beneath pastry shop operated by left-handed former prostitute." I hope you did better.
A funny King Richard joke! My kingdom for a funny King Richard joke!
The above item was fairly literate wouldn't you say? I think it's safe to say we're maturing rapidly around here. It's like "The Benny Hill Show" morphing into "Frasier." I hate when that happens.
And just like that, we're back to Benny Hill.
Somebody wants to build one that will carry people over the falls and beneath the Memorial Bridge in Rumford. All fun and games until Rummy the Rumford River Monster starts eating people right off the line like sweets off a candy necklace. Which will only add to the fun. I say let's do it.
Apparently, a nice woman called another reporter and demanded to know why staff writer Mia LaFlamme wasn't calling her back. Mia is obviously the incarnation of my feminine side and I hear she's a real witch. I apologize heartily for anything Mia has done or will do. Hell hath no fury like an alter ego scorned. Does this persona make my butt look big?
Monsters part deux
Late Tuesday night, I finished writing a novelette, kind of a monster story about a group of people stuck at a newspaper during a historic blizzard. It doesn't go well. Just about everybody dies and dies horrifically, many of them editors who are eaten. Great fun. But at the time I was writing it, I had no idea that a historic blizzard was bearing down on us and, worst of all, it's happening on days that I'm scheduled to work. Does my forehead feel warm to you? I think I sense a couple sick days on the way.
Finding Nemo and punching him in the ear
But of course, by the time this sure Pulitzer Prize-winning column hits the streets, the storm will be over. We will have shoveled our driveways, scraped our windshields and moved on. Somewhere in the distance, a dog will have barked. The storm is behind us. Now how the hell is the media going to scare everyone into their basements? Hint: We'll think of something.
I'm holding them for a friend
When I go out to ambush people at the grocery store to ask about shopping for the impending storm, I put six embarrassing items in my own basket to put others at ease. Guess them and win big prizes or something.
At Bartlett and Walnut streets in Lewiston, in a very prominent spot on a very popular corner, someone spray painted fairly graphic accusations about a local woman. I can't tell you what the message says because it contains what is known in journalism circles as "bad words and stuff." But I can tell you that one of those words is flagruntly mispelled. Now, then. Let's see one of you Facebook spelling and grammer enthusiasts go out and correct that.