Jay Kenny, A Roanoke man, sat in his favorite comfortable chair Thursday, thinking the world would just pass him by as it has done for the last five years. That is, until a book deal and a Sports Illustrated contract fell into his lap from the ventilation system overhead.
American author Jay Kenny making headway toward goals
“I was just staring out the window thinking, ‘Gosh, the world sure does change as fast as the second hand counts a minute nowadays.’ But I remember noticing that my back lawn and the bushes and trees always look the same,” said Mr. Kenny, retail employee.
Jay went on to express his renewed attitude toward life, and lack of certainty around what he will do next. “Now that I can be the writer I always dreamed of bein’, I just don’t know what I’ll write about! Sports? Politics? Social trends, the government? War and peace; it’s all out there for me,” he said with a grin.
Jay Kenny said he’d already grown accustomed to day-to-day life without ambition. “Paper hits the door every mornin’. The songbird sings my favorite tunes,” he said. He went on to describe how he’d come to delude himself into believing a life without any distinction whatsoever does not evacuate the happiness from his soul, but in fact brings him a form of satisfaction. “Things here are just how I want them to be. Pretty much all the time. Grass stays cut. Neighbors are friendly. Known them about fifteen years now. What little money I get pays the gas bill, heating, lights, health insurance, life insurance, car insurance, homeowner’s insurance, water. With what’s left I buy food. Sometimes I have enough left and I’ll even buy myself a big old steak dinner. Me and Gus,” he said, pointing to his dog. “I guess I might just write about that.”
Mr. Kenny said he would not investigate the duct-work of his home, telling reporters the weight of the curiosity around what caused his dreams to come true by simply neglecting to actively pursue them can be remedied with a good Marlboro cigarette and a shot of whiskey. “I don’t like to ask no questions,” he said. “Something told me I’d be a big novelist one day and people would want to know what I’ve got to say about things. I just believed in myself. And that’s probably how I was able to keep my routine of television, forty hours at Staples, and shopping at Kroger. I knew it’d all pay off eventually.” And it did.
Roanoke, Va.–A Roanoke man savagely mutilated himself Friday while trying to prove to his ex-wife he was “still man enough to sexual role-play and use a skill saw naked.” Sources say he was attempting to sacrifice the family housecat to the love gods when things suddenly appeared very wrong.
Tina Shrubman, a 46 year old “homemaker” described the scene to police and reporters a “bloodbath, not in the sexual way, but almost,” as the man’s dismembered tool flopped around like a suffocating fish on the counter-top in her Martha Stewart-influenced kitchen. Lustily, Shrubman bit her lower lip.
Lieutenant Leroy Jackson, who is not supposed to disclose any details around an ongoing investigation, revealed to reporters, “Cletus Ragburn, waited for Ms. Shrubman’s return in her living room, naked, prepared to operate a table saw mounted on two sawhorses. Confused, she instinctively pepper-sprayed him, causing his thumb to react, triggering the power saw to spin out of control and fall to the floor, castrating him in the process.”
When asked where the pet would be sent for treatment, Jackson replied, “I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”
Joe Diamond, attorney for Ragburn’s johnson revealed that the member was seeking severance pay, a full health insurance package and a guaranteed nine-to-five stroke job.
Virginia, U.S.–The local human plantation of Roanoke, Virginia is at the brink of destruction.
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There is a major reason to believe, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that waves of mountain lions did descend on the people of the Roanoke Valley in the great retaking of the cherished homeland. Sources say it is the largest incident on record of the overtaking of an American city by the surrounding wildlife.
A peace treaty is being worked out with the animals, but no inside sources have yet indicated any premonitions around the terms of the agreement. Anonymous sources report that Roanoke mayor David Bowers, best known for having sold the town to Wal-Mart out of gambling desperation, denies any involvement with unpaid, lion-related debts, saying, “I wouldn’t make a wager with those penniless rubes. They only want your flesh anyway.”
Field analysts say the animals have taken to gathering in the Roanoke Civic Center where humans are hunted for entertainment following a sold-out Toby Keith concert.
Jim Fixx, our reporter on the scene, identified twelve positive kills before he himself was eaten alive by a ravenous pair of adult hill cats.
Town spokesperson Lightfoot Steifewagen recalled a feeling of terror, when on her evening run to Wally World was pulled over by lions and questioned. “They wanted to know where I was going,” she said. “They asked where I came from. Like it’s any of their business!”
Attorneys for the swarm of mountain lions have stated the occupation is officially a peace-keeping mission intended only to affect a very precise few people who took part in the alleged attempt to overthrow the laws of nature. But he added, “No one is directly at fault for the decline of the mountain lion’s land, but because all have systematically taken part in the mass rape of it as every nut and every cog is needed to turn the gears of Humanity – the Great Fucking Machine.” It is a principal moment in interspecial relations in which a beast, with an attorney’s help has leveled the playing field with man.
So far, the verdict is split. If no verdict is reached after a second round of hearings Tuesday, the Roanoke County vs. Mob of lions trial could move on to the Virginia Supreme Court, where experts say the level of clusterfuck is expected to be a critical mass situation. Commander Von Hertenweiner, lead gang-rapist of the lion’s crack legal team on the case, said, “I foresee a dimension of politics so unexplored that NASA scientists and mathematicians have been placed on temporary standby, awaiting transmissions from the top.” Judge Joe Mathis, who is expected to rule on the case, said “Next week’s hearings should go as smoothly as an abortion case, or a sudden lion attack.” He concluded, “If things get too hairy, I will back someone into a corner and hold them in contempt of court after they lash out at me with rage.” The press room then let out a chuckle, quit their jobs, and went home to ‘blog about it.
In other news, rising again to defend the Glory of Mankind, as he has done countless times before and forever will do into perpetuity, Winston Churchill had this to say:
This evening, a black hole instantly spawned inside our solar system. The event occurred so suddenly that scientists have not been able to determine its preconditions, but more presently, they are concerned with how humanity will go about tackling this catastrophic phenomenon of rapidly-impending doom.
Two brave Elf Waxtronauts
Commented Stan Stientenblauer, the Pentagon’s leading astrophysicist and top scientist on the case reported to the press moments ago that, “It’s dangerous to the Earth. It is also dangerous to humanity and her precious, precious domination over all of Mother Nature. Our clocks are beginning to speed up but our perception of time is slowing down. Tomorrow’s traffic report is not looking good. And you can forget about Monday.”
This small Virginia town is writhing in turmoil. To escape the confusion of what is shaping up to be True Armageddon, Roanoke citizens have taken to their televisions, watching emergency reruns of Frasier, Lost, and 24. Some have ordered pizzas. Some are on a savage looting spree Downtown. Other citizens, like Leesa Brenner, a Roanoke Junior High School teacher told E.W. Times reporters from her front porch, “I Just want to put this whole mess behind us.” Her ex-husband but live-in boyfriend, carpenter Steve Crowe, threw his hand up to the sky, and announced, “It’s time to get on with life.”
The couple would not agree to any further questioning and went back into their home, where Maury could be overheard declaring someone the father of an unwanted child. Overhead, the black hole can be seen clearly in the evening daylight. Streaming sheets of rearranged matter clouds together perfectly from all directions into the vacuum of the all-consuming abyss, and growing exponentially. Doctor Raymond Sexjoy has warned of a highly-inevitable spaghettification due to set in within twenty-five minutes, pursuant to our crossing of the event horizon, due to take place just moments after the upcoming opening credits to The Simpsons. Commenting on humanity’s ability to control the crisis, Sexjoy said, “Oh heavens no. We’re all fucked,” as he lit a cigarette, and twisted morbidly out of proportion until he exploded apart into a stream of atoms.
More as this develops into Hawking radiation.
Today, Call of Duty 4 took a tragic and deadly turn for the worse after SmokeyMcBong420 and PwnasaurusDeth traded insults over their PlayStation 3 headsets. Several eyewitnesses have independently confirmed that Pwnasaurus claimed to have lost a match due only to lag, irritating SmokeyMcBong and forcing him to challenge Pwnasaurus to a real life duel. Tragically, Pwnasaurus revealed his address to Smokey, who turned out to live within one mile of his house. Pwnasaurus had nothing but a double-barrel shotgun to protect himself, and fought conservatively-remaining under cover until Smokey approached his range. Smokey, an avid Sniper in Call of Duty, armed himself with a scoped .22 caliber rifle, and scanned the street for Pwnasaurus from his roof. Pwnasaurus took 5 rounds to the head, none of which had the power to penetrate his skull. Despite his wounds, Pwnasaurus skillfully snuck behind yards and fences until he had fully flanked Pwnasaurus. With surprise and massive underestimation of his 12 gauge’s effective range, Pwnasaurus was able to blow the entire neck and head off of Smokey with the first blast, and both his legs with the second. Shortly thereafter, Pwnasaurus died of blood loss from his head wounds. Neither were able to respawn, but both scored +10, resulting in a tie game.
It’s as easy as BCC: Barricade, Concoct, Communicate.
Pile all of your furniture up against your front and back doors, along with any other additional entrances to your soon to be Alamo. Bust apart whatever furniture is left and cover the windows with spare wood and upholstery. Pile all scraps in the middle of your main staging area. This is where you may have to die, so if you die among the trash, you can be scooped up along with everything else for easy delivery to the nearest landfill.
This is where you contrive your plans to hold yourself hostage. It is also the execution phase, so moving on, you come to realize holding yourself hostage is a really bad idea because basically you’re just threatening the police to kill yourself and there is really no ransom to be had at all, so you’re going to have to pretend like someone else is in the house with you.
Call the police. Tell them you have been held hostage by an enormous man named Manuell Elberto Gero, and he wants forty five hundred thousand dollars in exchange for your safe return to your now destroyed home which you are already in. Manuell doesn’t know English that well, but he is trying his hardest anyway and the police are convinced that he will either get his money or kill you trying. Should they drop a duffel bag full of currency into your ventilation system, you’re free to hide the money in an unplanned yet highly convenient hiding place that the police, for whatever reason, will fail to search when going through your home trying to find evidence of Manuell’s escape route. Should they attempt to intrude on your beautifully orchestrated scheme to defraud taxpayers of next year’s new project budget to bulldoze a park, you’ll be forced to set fire to the scraps and tinder you have thrown into the middle of your living room floor. Should your scrap pile not make a large enough pyre to set fire to the ceilings, you’ll be forced to kill yourself by whatever means most immediately snuff your life force before the S.W.A.T. team comes around the last corner to see you naked and alone on the telephone. This way, they will not know that Manuell was but a figment of your imagination created as a ruse to stiff some dimwits out of a few thousand dollars at the expense of your freedom, dignity and even your life.