Sep 12, 2007

The Bodies In My Backyard

They're all here, folks. The answers are all here, in my little town. It's such an evil little manipulating, back-stabbing, corrupt stew of players that you can actually trace all the reasons, the money, ingenious plots and missing persons conundrums of recent memory to Right Here.

Nicole Simpson's real murderer? Here. We exacted a bit of Pirate Justice on his ass, and after the garrotting, we took his body to the Santa Maria Restaurant, where you can "feed the fish while you dine!" Seriously. Ya'll leave O.J. alone. Update: nevermind.

You wonder where Osama is and why Bush can't catch him any more than Billy Clinton could? Wonder no longer. He's here. My little town captured him, killed him, and served him up like a trussed pig on British Watch Night three years ago. We have our reasons. Old Moorish Revival reasons, that go back centuries. Imported those reasons here with Menendez. First dibs. Sorry.

Sasquatch? Here. We tossed his carcass out onto Fish Island after Hurricane Frances. He was fun to have around, a great party guest; he would keep posing for pictures, hogging the camera everywhere. He crossed the line, however, when he wanted to run for City Council. This caused such a jealous rage from the Yetis already sitting in the council that we had to off him. But ya'll go ahead and keep looking.

D.B. Cooper? See his pic, there? He was running a local fishing charter here for years. He's not dead yet, but wasting away quite happily at Scarlett O'Hara's, regaling the bikers with his outlandish getaway story. He's a local hero, of course, welcomed here with quiet winks and knowing smiles when we found out who he was. The alcohol content of this town acts as a preservative, so ol' Coop (we call him that) may just be around for a while longer.

If you can think of others, just ask me there, in the comments. I'll check around and see who knows what. The Russian Mafia here has all the money connections. And they know things. The Patel Hotel Cartel can stow and transfer people from room to room around this city for years. I'm not saying they do, just saying they could. The Menorcans can sell some little something at the local Giant Flea Market faster and quieter than a Chicago Teamster. The 400+ year inbred families of the Spanish settlers, well, they're not much for brain power, but they know how to make things happen, and they're mighty patient.

What? You haven't read about any of this in the News? I'm shocked.


Update: Yes, Jimmy Hoffa, too. Long story...

Update: Nevermind. THIS JUST IN! Fidel Castro's carcass was just discovered at the foot of the Bridge Of Lions. Well, there's no lions there just now, just a lyin' S.O.B. who was found stashed behind one of the construction barges. Seems like he welshed on a guarantee to supply cheap diesel fuel for the bridge renovation project. Bet ya'll didn't know that Cuba has oil wells, huh? Well, it does. Insert conspiracy theories here:

4 comments:

Peggy U said...

And no doubt Amelia Earhart and Steve Fossett as well. Oh hey, that reminds me, there's this creepy little short story I have to send you. I'll see if I can find the link. It's been a long time since I read it. It's about a town where the people are fishy.

Jimbo - PRS said...

Re: Jimmy Hoffa

Glad you have him. I get awful tired of that "He's buried in the end zone in Giants' Stadium" baloney.

Joan of Argghh! said...

Yeah, well, I'm not saying we actually, y'know have him. We just know at which spot he was thrown into the Bay of Slaughter. If the tides were right, his body is likely about 12 miles north of here acting as a beach replenishment agent up in Vilano.

Nonny said...

Ooh how sinister yet interesting I like it!