Do you still think I’m pretty?

Over the scanner, we had a fellow calling the police to report constant harassment by prostitutes in downtown Lewiston. Said he can’t go out to get a sandwich without being propositioned. I wonder what this dude uses for cologne? Anyway, I should call the police to report NOT being harassed by hookers. If you’re on a motorcycle, they won’t even look at you. It’s very hurtful. And they haven’t even mentioned my new haircut.

‘Manure spreading causes stink’

Apparently waste from a farm animal spread across a field for the purpose of fertilization causes an aroma considered unsavory by a significant proportion of the populace. Who knew? I suppose for our next headline, we’ll inform the readers that stepping in the canine equivalent of said manure can be unpleasant for people who chose to go unshod. You’ve been warned.

See you in November

My motorcycle is out of the shop — the Suzuki DR650 named El Mechon, for those of you who are writing my life story. I haven’t been astride El Mechon since late autumn, which means for the foreseeable future, I’m going to be making up for lost time. I wanted to warn you because since I’ll be mailing it in from mud holes and sand pits in the middle of nowhere, it might not be of the Esquire quality you’ve come to expect from Talk of the Town.

Ha ha!

I almost said that with a straight face.

Cuff ’em

A pair of yoots in Lisbon were found handcuffed together last week at the end of an alleged crime spree. Place Nelsonesque “Ha ha!” here. I’d love to unsheath my rapier of scorn upon these two lads, but I just can’t do it without a feeling of crushing sanctimony. Over the course of my weird life, there were no less than two occasions when I had to be freed from handcuffs that had not been applied by a qualified law enforcer. Once, I was cuffed to my gym locker and had to call for the janitor. The second incident is one I absolutely refuse to talk about, so quit bugging me about it.

Cop out

Do you suppose that when a cop encounters a suspect who has pre-cuffed himself, the officer feels a sense of disappointment? After all, the ka-chink sound made when the cuffs are applied has to be among the most rewarding parts of policing. That and saying, “There’s nothing to see here, folks, move along.”

‘Lewiston might be ready for chickens’

The founders of this great city would be so proud to have read that recent headline. One can picture them in the early days, dreaming of a dazzling future as they built their first cabins along the banks of the Androscoggin River. Some fool tries to bring chickens into the village only to be stopped by one of the wise town fathers. “No, Ezekiel. We’re not ready for that. Not yet.” Said town father then stares dreamily off at the rolling hills, envisioning a time when the Town of Lewis will be ready at last for those chickens.

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