David Thayer

Wellington Leg: Researchers at the Big Box Institute near Goth are close to perfecting a writing pill, sources say. The pill was tested on mice writing memoirs and novels. A startling 67% of the mice thought they had finished writing a book, 23% said they almost finished 4% thought Paris Hilton is running for president and one mouse refused to make any comment at all. Mice with writers block were forced into a lengthy discussion of the Mets bullpen. 11% of those mice thought that Paris Hilton is a current member of the Mets roster.

Human Testing: Since 670,000 mice broke out of the laboratory over the weekend various other creatures have been given the Writers Pill according to Doc Holliday who administers the program. Rabbits did extremely well with a solid 56% believing they were typing when they were actually dozing, another 18% enjoying the Colbert Report while many others facing their fear of Elmer Fudd for perhaps the first time.

A Simple Plan: To round up the escaped mice sheriff’s deputies staked out Minnie’s a local bar noted for its tiny treadmills and test tube shooters. To enhance their vigilance the deputies and assorted volunteers were given the Writer’s Pill and a straight shot of Jack Daniels. A whopping 71% of those polled believed they had arrested the runaway mice, 12% said Barack Obama is a Muslim while a troubling 44% reported difficulty counting that many mice.

One Pill Makes You Larger: The Writing Pill has several side effects. Book reviewers turn up their noses at books written by mice especially when the book isn’t written. Oprah is not interested and for many life outside the lab is simply too demanding. The Re-Write Pill can reverse some of the effects but so far only 14% of the subjects believe they are rewriting.

There is a large reward for the capture of the runaway mice.

T. Tex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: Apparently the earl’s luggage exceeded weight limits as the great blue whale expelled the author of VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA along with the suite of furniture he rode in on. Local residents complained of furniture “falling from the sky” in numerous phone calls to the Flying Squad. Constable Constable was on duty late last night when the initial call came in: “I was three blocks from Dunkin Donuts when I got the squeal,” he wrote. “A gentleman complained that his Schnauzer was forging an Amazon review on an antique escritoire.”

Pre-Rafaelite Doodling? Constable is also Wellington PD’s resident sketch artist. He displayed his rendering of the Schnauzer: “As you can plainly see the dog is posting an anonymous review…his paws are poised over the keyboard in a furtive manner. He is listening to a police scanner.”

Louis Quatorze in the dog house? Police recovered a massive and ornate “secretaire” from the Schnauzer’s palatial dog house. “It is very probably the object of art that the earl rode to safety after being launched homeward by the whale,” noted Professor Moriarity. “One supposes a parabolic longitudinal aspect to his dramatic reentry.”

Allegedly “Parnassus”the dog in question seized control of the blog One More Bite of the Apple making a series of entries that called into question whether humans can read or write. Fortunately while trying to press enter with his chin Parnassus  struck eject and was launched skyward before coming to rest on Mrs. Ahearn’s prize winning antimacassar.  Parnassus enjoyed a glass of Jameson’s and a game of scrabble before the Flying Squad arrived.

Constable Constable drew a portrait of Parnassus before taking him into custody.

“The skies over Wellington Leg are furniture free,” Constable said.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Shale Formation: When last we saw young Tuffy Tuffington he was scraping the hardpan with a greasy spoon. Unable to file his story Tuffy did what any intrepid writer would do: he dug a hole for himself. Yes, not even the use of a reflexive pronoun, certainly a weakness of Tuffy’s, could prevent what happened next. Sometimes missing a deadline is a prelude to enormous scientific progress although most of the time one has nothing to do with the other. On that cautionary note we continue with our saga Tuffy in the Desert.

As Tuffy digs he notices that the soil is darkening, bubbling, spitting. He’s found a gerund deposit a few feet down. Not a wildcatter by trade Tuffy digs deeper striking an entire strata of what appears to be Cormac McCarthyite, a rare earth mineral so precious that some reviewers and critics want us to drill in the Outer Continental Shelf but mean green liberals won’t let us!

Tuffy Rents a Drill Rig: This is a long interlude wherein our hero encounters T. Boone Pickens in a peyote induced nightmare that should result in a three book deal if Tuffy can remember his memoir. Take notes, Tuffy! We cry from the balcony.

The Prose Begins to Flow: after injecting hot air and boiling water into the hole, the wildcatters strike a McCarthyite gusher and the prose begins to flow, the road becomes a menacing wasteland where only the strong survive. In a land of dessicated pickup trucks and peeling paint we sense that a great calamity has befallen the people, and Tuffy must chronicle their demise or be laid off.

Capping the Wellhead: what appears to be an armadillo is a laptop computer with wifi and hifi and a carapace so thick even airport security cannot destroy it. Tuffy’s fingers are on the keyboard, the ground trembles as the precious stuff hurtles skyward in an eruption rivaling Krakatoa.

Tuffy has broken through.

Wellington Leg: Mere hours after the major candidates discovered Our Towne an asteroid struck. The rocky mass crashed into an open field creating a massive explosion that lifted bright rays of displaced matter into the atmosphere. A sonic boom and an air horn signaled the arrival of the asteroid during the dinner hour last evening. The errant ‘roid slammed into a soybean field owned and operated by Wellington Bio Fuels. WBF derives alternative fuels from vegetation, discarded beer cans and defunct television sets.

Could Have Been Avoided: “The asteroid should never have landed,” said Science Editor Copernicus. “The left fielder had a bead on it but the center fielder broke across the gap…no one called it.”

Filling Big Shoes: Over at Wendy’s Haus of Mirrored Sunglasses customer Bob Trooper was trying on a pair when the asteroid whizzed overhead. Bob, showing remarkable presence of mind, ordered everyone in the store to put their 3D glasses on: “When you get an asteroid you’re gonna have bright rays of displaced matter,” Bob said. He watched the asteroid in Wendy’s mirrored glasses while Wendy herself watched AMERICAN IDOL. “Those judges can be mean,” Wendy said.

I think it’s time we stopped, hey, what’s that sound? Alice Cooper of Number 7 Pike Place saw the asteroid approaching from the south: “It was coming along pretty fast and then it stopped to listen to a Neil Young song, then it made an illegal left turn during rush hour, man. I’m like where are the cops?”

I can see for miles and miles: No one had a better view of the crash than hitchhiker Dan Tana who rode the asteroid for several thousand miles. He hopped off near the city of Gdansk: “I didn’t expect a ride all the way to Poland.” Dan had hoped to reach Billings Montana by midnight. Dan’s leather jacket turned white with sparkles: “I’m going to Vegas,” he said.

Crater to be Cordoned: The Flying Squad has ordered a quantity of crime scene tape from Amazon.com. “I’m tracking the order,” DCI Borchardt said. Borchardt considered additional purchases while logging in. “Yeah, I ordered a Jimmy Buffet book and three sets of everyday dish ware. Oh, and a telescope.”

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting for Wellington Science.

Sancto Sanctorum: In the darkest recesses of the Umbrage Building The Druidical & Literary’s Executive Board gathered for a bollocking from major investor Eugenia Phaeton, third grader at Wellington Primary School and manager of My Hedge Fund, a show and tell project run amok. Eugenia pulled no punches in her presentation to the board although some board members objected to Nap Time, others refused their milk and cookies. Little Don, Vice Chairman of the Board, reported that Eugenia “stuck her tongue out at me.” He complained to the Big Fat Guys who demanded that Eugenia stay after school.

Typical Hedge Fund Manager: The Druidical & Literary has suffered a drastic reduction in circulation as well as advertising revenue in the past several quarters. The D&L may close its Goth Bureau despite the bureau’s award winning coverage of the Roman Invasion. Bureau Chief T. Rex Love-Handles vowed to stay on regardless of cost cutting measures imposed by My Hedge Fund. “I will continue to report the activities of the Vecesima Claudia Legion on behalf of the people of Goth, who stand to lose their overflow parking privileges at COSTCO should this relentless military action continue….”

New Ideas Abound: In order to lure new readers the Board announced the return of the Earl’s Agony Column, a longtime favorite of suffering writers in Wellington Leg. “The earl’s timely advice is essential to understanding not only the zeitgeist and weltschmierzen so common to our artistic brothers and sisters who endure all sorts of Germanic afflictions in the name of Art.”

Blue Whale Petitioned: While Eugenia approved the Agony she is foresquare against the Ecstacy so prevalent these days in the hallowed halls of academe. As a precondition to running the column she pointed that the Earl “must be retrieved from the big Whale who swallowed him earlier this month.” To that end the Board issued a Resolution to the Whale or Whales warning of dire consequences of a seafaring nature may result if he, The Earl, is not returned to our collective bosom.”

It’s not how the Board intends to deliver its Ultimatum to a Monster of the Deep.

Tuffy “Unpaid Intern” Tuffington reporting.

Middle Old Parke: The Parks Department has concluded that Klatu, the large robot from Mars, will be treated as a statue or monument and maintained accordingly. “We’re going to polish him up this afternoon,” said Department Chief Medvedev. “It’s time to mow the lawn,” he added. A crew on a John Deere riding mower approached Klatu this morning with mixed results. “We mowed a section of lawn before he vaporized our tractor,” said Sid a city employee. The Mars Lander, parked fifty meters from Klatu,  absorbed the grass cuttings through a hollow tube. “We heard a giant sucking sound,” Sid reported.

You’ve Already Thought About Parking Here: Meter maid Constance believes that the Mars Lander is illegally parked. “I issued a citation yesterday,” she said. “Klatu ate the parking ticket.”

Brief Panic Ensues: Klatu took three steps forward and two steps back during lunch Monday afternoon. Sid had unwrapped his peanut butter and jelly sandwich when Klatu lurched forward. “We ran,” Sid said. “Klatu likes Wonder Bread.”

Hizzoner Ponders Options: The Wellington Leg Towne Council is drafting a stern warning to the Mars Lander and it’s occupants: “We demand that the giant robot be removed from our property and further declare that Klatu is a public nuisance. We order the Flying Squad to serve a warrant on the Lander in an expression of interstellar zoning regulations.”

Judge Hamilcar Frist is expected to authorize the warrant in his chambers just as soon as he’s freed from the diving bell he donned late last Friday. The courthouse is besieged by demonstrators voicing their support for the Martians. Mrs. Gabriella O’Day of Henley Hornbrook urged the crowd to “give Mars a chance.”

Officials hope to polish the robot with some sort of bronzing agent. Concetta Comedia dell Arta reporting.

Lesser Wallop: In a surprise move the Planet Mars dispatched a lander to examine life on earth. The three ton machine touched down in Lesser Wallop, Wellington Leg’s most glamorous suburb.  The interstellar probe set to work immediately according to Science Editor Giles Goatboy: “After a soft landing the craft deployed a stairway, several antennae, and gardening equipment. It began collecting soil samples, vegetation, and a discarded blender. There followed some whirring and banging sounds, perhaps light drilling.”

Burying the Lede: The big news, though, was the emergence of a ten foot robot from the maw of the ship. Local residents report an irresistible force field emanating from the robot. “It spoke to me,” reported Antoine “Tuffy” Tuffington of nearby Carthago Nova. “It wanted to get a library card.”

Chief Librarian Edna Ponson denied the Martian request: “Library privileges do not extend beyond our Bailiwick,” she said. “I doubt that a robot from another planet will return Led Zeppelin IV in a prompt and timely manner.”

Few can forget the last time extraterrestrials visited. One of them borrowed VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA from the Bookmobile and never returned it. “That fine approaches one million of today’s dollars,” Ms. Ponson said. “We simply won’t get fooled again.”

Hailing the Robot: To pacify the Space Monster the Wellington Leg Light Orchestra will perform a medley to include HOUSES OF THE HOLY and WHEN THE LEVEE BREAKS. Hizzoner plans to give a speech to the Martian Lander ( You Can Stay But You Gotta Pay Me Cash.) It’s not clear as of this writing whether Martians grasp the essentials of government graft. Still, it promises to make for an exciting Sunday despite the Fighting Gastropods eleven game losing streak.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Prince of Denmark Shopping Center: In an effort to inject some pep into the otherwise gloomy staff of the Druidical & Literary we’ve given everyone the day off. Wellington High’s Pep Squad has free rein over the blog with its labyrinthine bells and whistles. While rumors of a newsroom coup circulate this reporter is at the mall.

Fact and fiction: The Roman Army in the New World is besieging Portland, Oregon, sources report. Staff reporter Geraldo was on the scene and filed this report. A word of caution: some of the scenes depicted here are highly improbable, possibly incendiary, and certainly appalling creating an adverb cluster and an aura of shameless melodrama.

Desperately Seeking Conan: Geraldo here, dateline, Chehalis Washington: Four Roman legions are on the move in this central Washington town after an incident at a local MacDonalds. “They came, they saw, they ordered eleven thousand Big Macs,” said sales associate Bonnie. “We invoked the ‘no shoes, no shirt, no service’, Law,” Bonnie continued. “I think it’s a Law.”

It is the Law: A quick check with the Legal Department revealed that mail shirts and leather sandals do not qualify for service. “The Law is quite clear,” said an unnamed legal expert. “Bonnie was totally vindicated.”

South on Interstate Five: Ever since CONAN THE BARBARIAN ran at the Wellington Drive-In Roman commanders are convinced that Conan is our great leader. In an exclusive interview with Marcus Sevilius I learned that Conan is to be brought to Rome in chains.

Chains not required: Just a traffic reminder that chains are no longer required in the passes this June. The weather for metro Portland looks favorable this weekend, so the Romans expect to cross the Columbia River sometime Saturday.

Ten thousand ox carts may wreak havoc on Oregon highways. A word to the wise. Geraldo reporting.

Editor’s Note: Since we’re all at the mall the fact checking apparatus is questionable at best. A mail shirt is a shirt, isn’t it?

Wellington Leg: Rather than our usual content today ( Science on Tuesday) we are in the midst of a staff meeting. So the business of blogging is in the hands of intern Tuffy Tuffington Jr. Call it the Tuffington Post. A word of caution: the last time we turned the blog over to an intern he set Leo Tolstoy’s beard on fire. He compounded his error by dousing the flames with Dr. Pepper. Let’s hope Tuffy’s skills as an aggregator are as sound as his judgment.

Herewith the Tuffington Post: Dateline, Wellington Leg: Earl spotted on Great Jones Street: author, aristocrat, and raconteur the forty third earl was seen thumbing through a copy of Plutarch’s PARALLEL LIVES this morning. This raises fears that the earl may be working on a new novel and is seeking guidance from Plutarch whose agent, Lydia Careerbreaker, has spies everywhere. Of course the gullible among us believe that the earl has been swallowed by a blue whale. I’m not buying it!

Anyway I think the modernists would agree that Camus is your go to guy these days, not Plutarch. You know what I’m saying? Get over yourself, forty third earl!

Well, that’s the Tuffington Post. While I have control of the dashboard I’d like to shout out to Mom…hey Mom!

We interrupt the Tuffington Post. Tolstoy is in the lobby! We’ve dispatched young Tuffy downstairs to guide Tolstoy through the security gate. We share the premises with Mitch’s Moderne Hairpieces, wigmaker for the Judiciary Committee. With so many high profile Legians in need of hair, the lobby is frequently crowded. Fortunately I’ve prepared a memo to staff.

Tuffy, that’s not Leo Tolstoy. Run for your lives. He’s brought Godzilla upstairs!

The Piltdown Exchange: Wellington Leg’s famed literary exchange may be haunted according to reliable sources who do not wish to identified. Your reporter donned an elaborate disguise to gain access to the trading floor, the scene of a “quadruple witching” event as literary futures expire. VP of Market Specialists Tuffy Tuffington explained quadruple witching this way: “You have the Wicked Witch of the North and the Wicked Witch of the East meet South and West on the fifty yard line for the coin toss. The last time this happened instead of calling heads or tails they turned the referee into a Fig Newton.”

Careful with that Mouse, Eugene: Shortly before lunch mall security pursued a mouse onto the floor of the exchange. Captain Hook and Major Ladders captured the mouse near the Live Hog Pit but released it because it claimed to be Mighty Mouse. “He was wearing a cape,” said Hook and Ladders agreed. But then General Deschutes informed Ladders that all the mice in the building wore capes. Deschutes and Ladders resumed the chase. A quantity of Gruyere cheese was deployed to lure Mighty Mouse into the open. With crude oil rising Hook and Ladders ate the cheese before Deschutes and Ladders could spring the trap.

Quadruple Witching a Myth? Even before the mouse incident traders were nervous. Buying Interest faded after a person wearing a black hat rode a broom past the Podium. Floor specialist Zander Zeitgeist had unwrapped his baloney sandwich when a Fig Newton spoke to him. “He claimed to be a Zebra. He told me to call it in the air.”

Deschutes and Ladders took Zeitgeist into custody. “There’s no brown bagging on the floor of the Piltdown Exchange,” said Ladders who, remembering the Gruyere he’d eaten earlier, arrested himself.

A Steady Hand: General Deschutes gave the All Clear near the Rutabaga Pit. “Sometimes a Fig Newton is just a cookie,” he said.

Tuffy Tuffington Jr. reporting for the Wellington Literary Futures.