David Thayer

Wellington Leg: Prudentia Chalfont-Smythe, chair of the Literary Faire, is facing impeachment charges after she captured all sixteen prizes in this year’s competition. She also was declared the winner of the 2006 contest snatching the coveted Eudora away from bitter rival Fulgencio Batista. Mr. Batista surrendered his statuette to Judge Hamilcar Frist in a brief ceremony held for the first time before live cameras.

Chalfont-Smythe won for the best first novel, best third novel, best twelfth novel ( a new category this year) best Prose Poem, best Bildungsroman, best work in translation, best biography ( her late husband) best roman a clef, as well seizing the Frey Award in memoir writing. As Day Two unfolded it was clear that her treatise on Tolstoy had the inside track for the Boris and Natasha Prize.

Then scandal struck. Chalfont-Smythe was captured on film offering Judge Emil Prosit a trip to Maui and all the peanut M&Ms he could eat; the quid pro quo was his vote in the Regency category. Her re imagining PRUDENTIA AT THE ORANGERIE wherein she sacks and burns Bath after being jilted by a lover struck a chord with several of the judges.

“Impeachment is a complex process,” said Professor Moriarity. “Before we can proceed sheep must be slaughtered, a lock of hair boiled in oil, and I DREAM OF JEANNIE must rerun eleven thousand times. Then, and only then, can we impeach the Chair.”

In a setback to the process a number of sheep were deported in a sting operation by the Flying Squad. “We’ll get them back,” promised DCI Borchardt. Some of the sheep wore sunglasses creating confusion during the dawn sweep. “Yesterday I would have said ’sheep never wear sunglasses’” Borchardt admitted. “I can’t say that now.”

Wellington Leg: Black Friday arrived at just after ten this morning when Eddie Parker, owner of Eddie’s Book Nook, opened his shop and was flattened by a phalanx of Certified Shoppers. “I unlocked the door a few minutes early,” Eddie recalled. “I saw a big fat guy with a Bugatti teeshirt and a handlebar mustache. Then it was lights out.”

The big fat guy in question is Trent Kendle who wanted to buy a Kindle. “It’s not everyday that Apple Computer names a product after you,” he said. Of course the Kindle is from Seattle based Amazon, not Cupertino based Apple. And there is no product called the Kendle; still, Trent remains enthusiastic. “I want one,” he said. “I want one right now.”

Not Clear on the Purpose? Trent believes that the Kindle is the long awaited Babe Magnet science had been promising for years. To prove his theory Trent stood on a street corner in downtown Wellington Leg holding an oblong object painted a pastel color; for the purposes of verisimilitude Trent affected an interest in Jane Austen. He then waited for the babes.

Three hours later Trent was approached by Mrs. Millicent Hogarth of Flapping Close and asked by Mrs. Hogarth “what he thought he was doing?” The compound nature of the question with its postmodernist undertones briefly confused Trent since what he thought he was doing was evidently in conflict with what he was actually doing which at that precise moment was nothing at all. Thus his response, delayed by this procession of thoughts, fell on deaf ears.

Trent would like a refund and is considering filing a lawsuit. Science editor Jeff Scott Fitzgerald reporting.

Wellington Leg: A local man had to be rescued by the Flying Squad after he tumbled into the icy waters of his e-book reader. The victim, Patrick Kenzie of Middle Wallop, had had “a drink before the war,” according to DCI Borchardt. “He said something about darkness taking his hand,” Borchardt reported. The device, one of the Earl’s Own, is equipped with a tile surround and a ladder. No lifeguard was on duty because, according to city officials, it’s too cold to sit on a platform in a bathing suit.

Mr. Kenzie was rushed to Queen of the Angels where a billing dispute prevented care. He was then rushed back to where he was found; some of the rushing around was completely uncalled for, according to Doctor Puffy. “If he had stayed where he was gravity would have forced the water from his lungs.” Mr. Kenzie was found upside down by CSI Caruso and his e-reader team of forensic experts.

No Swimming Warning Inadequate? The Earl’s Own E-reader Thingy comes with a warning: “Some of the prose contained herein is really awful. Proceed at your own risk.” It was assumed by experts that the warning addressed the earl’s work; each Thingy comes with VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA embedded in the program. The mighty tome floats in a pool of water and is quite deep in places.

Because of skyrocketing gasoline prices Mr. Kenzie will be manually revived should a re occurrence present itself. “Nothing is Sacred,” he was heard to mutter after resuming his e-book reader experience.

“At least he didn’t fall into Mystic River,” Borchardt noted. He and the Flying Squad plan to spend Thanksgiving listening to the thoughts of  Arnie Livingston on their departmental I-Pod. Mr. Livingston is studying to be a doctor. At least, that’s the presumption. Geraldo reporting.

Wellington Leg: The release of the Earl’s Own EBook Thingy created a pre-holiday stir among retailers desperate to attract customers. The Thingy is believed to be a revolutionary design since several people found it revolting: two admitted they were Bolshevik spies sent by rival ebook makers Boris and Natasha. One man, Mr. Pimm of Minutae Lane, Little Wallop, claimed he had fewer cavities after reading MADAME BOVARY on the small screen.

“The forty third earl has designed a portable reader with a sixty inch diagonal screen, extra pod doors, toggle switches and a Jane Austen silhouette. The Thingy can be safely operated while driving as the special audio attachment simulates the voice of Pamela Anderson or John Updike, depending on preference.”

It was not easy cramming VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA into the reader’s memory bank. “Six men working around the clock used crow bars to jam a mountain of prose into the Thingy,” noted Professor Moriarity. At first it was feared the Earl’s novel had been loaded backwards and city crews repaired a break in the space-time continuum. “We had Voltaire at a Patty Smith concert in Central Park,” said one worker. “It was a free concert,” he added.

At the core of the device is a nano chip driven by a Harley Davidson Knucklehead belt drive. Eventually the drive will give way to a Porsche flat six, according to the professor.  “That will be speed reading,” he said.

Wellington Leg: I think it’s safe to say that we’ve all quit a job in our lifetime, maybe a couple of them. I tried to resign from the first grade a few decades ago but higher authorities made it clear that I was a first grader whether I liked it or not. My favorite things then were small amphibians and dirt: I found these things in plentiful supply and didn’t see the need for continuing education.

That was then. I resigned from being a writer a few weeks ago. It felt good that first morning having this monkey off my back; I felt smart, ten pounds lighter, wittier. I ran down the beach leaping into the air at five yard intervals. No I didn’t. I might have, though, such was my relief.

A few days later I was thinking about a book I started during NaNoWriMo last year, a book that I have three hundred pages of narrative outline, notes, chapters, what have you. I peeked at it. Like a messy bedroom it called for order.

A week after my resignation it dawned on me: I know how to write this book, I know how to get the story out from behind the gauze curtain of doubt. Hmm. Too bad I resigned.

It’s November again, NaNo time. Maybe I’ll just fool around with the manuscript, storm the inner palace and knock the guards unconscious. Over the past few weeks I’ve seen plenty of small amphibians and all kinds of dirt, red dirt, baby, from the volcano. What fresh hell is this?

Wellington Leg: City officials admitted yesterday that the miniaturized theme park planned for the Historic Rotunda must be redesigned. Planners reached the conclusion after one of the Big Fat Guys entered the park effectively filling the available space with his crush hat, fanny pack, and 64 ounce Big Gulp. “He’s struck,” noted Professor Moriarity. “He also failed the height requirement for the Whip.”

Wellington Leg had hoped that Abalone World would draw much needed tourist dollars without creating a large carbon footprint that Michael Moore could make a movie about. The theme park now is three feet wide and seven feet tall; Hizzoner, who conceived Abalone World while in the shower, is seven feet wide and three feet tall.

Officials from Disney Corporation fled towne after their convoy of rental cars was attacked by skirmishers from the Vicesima Claudia legion. The forty third earl rode to their rescue after his hammock was grazed by an errant javelin, but the damage was done.

Still hope remains. Intel is working on a theme park on a chip more powerful than current technology. Others worry that the abalone theme signals a kind of reversal of fortune for Wellington Leg and its flagging efforts to generate revenue.

A self propelled crane is on its way from Carthago Nova. The crane is fueled entirely by discarded plot ideas and query letters and is regarded as an alternative to solar power. Once the crane is in place the Big Fat Guy will be hoisted on a long petard. The Big Gulp will drain into Lake Trasimene. Geraldo reporting for Fox Fiction.

Wellington Leg: After many years of feeling no pain Legians have the chance to observe All Saints Day with Bill, who not only feels our pain, but has captured it in the pages of his latest book. Clinton will sign his book at the University Bookstore this evening at 6pm PDT. Don’t even think about parking north of the ship canal; this is Bill Clinton and he’s going to fix our aging infrastructure.

Who got bumped? Mrs. Edna Farqua of Lake Forest Park was scheduled to read from her latest and was shocked to see 4,000 shivering fans lined up around the block. Edna failed to notice the big banner on the bookstore’s noble facade “Bill Clinton Tonight!”

A fantasy of mine is to have a massive turnout at my reading wherein streams of shining faces arrive to buy, buy, buy. Like many fantasies it requires ignoring some realities, but come on, we’ve had eight glorious years of ignoring reality in all its manifestations. Ignore it! It will go away.

Still the image lingers, the stir of the crowd, the anxious faces of booksellers not accustomed to crowd control. One little mix-up and the Bill Clinton spotlight abruptly shifts…to unknown author.

Of course the truth often Trumps these flights of fancy. I don’t know if Bill plans to distribute cash to the first one hundred customers. After all he is not running for office, so he’s free to do whatever it takes.

This is bigger than Doctor Phil. It’s certainly bigger than my meager imagination can grasp. All leaves are canceled for our beloved meter maids; get out there and write some tickets.

Bring your friends, bring your neighbors. Bring your pain.