David Thayer

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.

Wellington Leg: The Baltimore Orioles have designated our own Duchess of Wey for assignment to Triple A Rochester. The news rocked the Gastropods front office as the team returns from an 0-9 road trip that included stops in Reading, PA. and Novosebirsk. The Duchess was 2-4 with a 4.55 ERA in eight starts with the Orioles. Her finest hour came against the Yankees when she blew away Jeter, Rodriguez, and Damon with her Bugs Bunny Change-up. “She looked awesome,” said one Yankee player. “Except for the floppy hat.”

Herself Perturbed? A rider from the Imperial Messenger Service delivered the news to the Dowager Princess early this morning. In perhaps an ominous sign the Princess gathered her War cabinet who supplied her with details on the state of Maryland. “Maryland is pretty tiny,” said a palace spokesperson. “I don’t think they have a navy,” he added.

Would She Move Without the Earl? Baseball fans may recall the days when the earl patrolled center field for the Fighting Gastropods. “In three years in center he never caught a single fly,” noted Urquhart Depew. “He was sound asleep by the second inning.” In fairness to the earl sports editor Mandy Rice-Davies commented, “His sedan chair may have limited his mobility.”

Blue States, Red States: Given Wellington Leg’s current difficulties with Michigan and Ohio, war with Maryland seems remote. “We’re not afraid of the Dowager Princess,” said former Michigan resident Mitt Romney. Still, her claims to the Upper Peninsula rankle some.

Nattering Nabobs: There is a bellicose minority who demand satisfaction for the demotion of the Duchess. None of the prospects sent to the Gastropods have risen above A ball thus far. “This is Moneyball?” asked a nabob. “A bunch of guys down in Salinas?”

A Google search reveals that Rochester is a city in upstate New York. Many observers fear that the Duchess will refuse to report setting off a bean ball war. “There will be chin music before this is over,” vowed Gastropods Manager Tuffy Tuffington. “Or my name isn’t Tuffy Tuffington.”

Tuffy Tuffington Jr. reporting.

Wellington Leg: Eugenia’s Lemonade Stand on the corner of Mincing Words Lane and Shredded Lettuce Street was a rousing success. Cashier Marge reported that sales were brisk in the morning session despite rumors that the Dallas Fed used the R word in a press release. “We collected four dollars in the morning,” Marge said. Things really heated up toward noon when Eugenia began auctioning 2year, 5year, and 10 year notes along with ginger snaps and a MIg 23 air superiority fighter. “We cleared about seven million after lunch,” Marge said.

Hamlet Flies a MIG: The MIG 23 bore the NATO designation Flogger. It’s top speed is fifteen hundred miles per hour. The MIG may have been sold at a garage sale earlier this month according to DCI Borchardt. “The Wellington Players are producing HAMLET FLIES A MIG at the Theater on the Green,” he reported. The play re imagines Hamlet during the Cold War.

Chasing the MIG: Bargain hunter Brenda of Goth raced down the suburban streets of Henley Hornbrook before entering the 405 Freeway at eleven hundred miles per hour. She’d pulled over at a convenience store for gas and a Big Gulp when she noticed police cars everywhere. Returning to the cockpit with her drink Brenda began playing with the toggle switches before revving to military power.

“She hit the afterburners and launched a missile,” Borchardt said.

Update from the Earl: Roland, the bartender at The Baltimore Grill, reported receiving a text message from the earl shortly before lunch. The actual message was lost after the popular bar was struck by an air to air missile. Police theorize that the missile may have been the same one launched by Brenda of Goth. In addition to leveling the Baltimore Grill the missile singed the coat of Mister Reynolds, a prize winning Standard Poodle.

The earl published a monograph last year entitled The MIG at your Garage Sale, a cautionary tale. A tattered copy of the essay was located in a cardboard box beneath Eugenia’s lemonade stand. “If only Brenda of Goth had read the essay before driving off in a MIG,” DCI Borchardt said. He cited the lemonade stand for creating a public nuisance.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: French warships have intercepted the podcast launched by the forty third earl early yesterday. The frigates Lafarge and Moliere outmaneuvered Legian ships under the command of Sea Lord and talk radio host Vicious Sid in a battle that lasted several minutes. Wellington Leg threatened to recall its ambassador to the Quai Dorsay: “We will recall our ambassador as soon we recall who that individual is,” said a spokesperson for the palace. Someone from Wellington Leg traveled to Paris several years ago to research a book about Herself in the Early Years but ran out of money. “This person went to debtor’s prison and may have been guillotined,” the announcement read.

Our Fleet: Where was Our Fleet? As they rowed toward the drop zone the crew of HMS Bristol Stomp sensed naval disadvantage. “We started the outboard when the Moliere fired a shot across our bow. There was a big splash.”

The big splash, of course, was the pod reentering earth’s atmosphere hurtling toward the churning waves of Gastropod Alley at speeds exceeding seven hundred miles per hour. The precious artifact, evidence of the earl’s reckless disregard for his own safety, fell into the hands of the Moliere’s crew. “This is a historic moment,” said Commander Guy from the forecastle: “We now possess actual video of life inside a whale’s belly.”

Pirated versions of the podcast reveal the earl snoozing in a leather club chair deep inside the great whale. “It looks as though the whale swallowed the Harvard Club,” noted one pundit. The grainy quality of the video cast doubt on reports that whales write notes to other whales.  A quick call to New York confirmed that the Harvard Club was still there. “We’re fine. We have chilled salmon on the menu today.”

The Harvard Club is members only.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Elementary School: With the secret of Eugenia Phaeton’s financial success about to be revealed, fund managers gathered for Story Time at our local grammar school. Regular readers may recall how 9 year old Eugenia rocked the financial markets with her show and tell project My Hedge Fund. Today she disclosed that after her project received a C from Mrs. Haggerty, Eugenia borrowed 1.4 billion dollars from a consortium of money center banks. The “no-doc loan” ignored the fact that the loan application included a stick figure crayon drawing now believed to be a self-portrait.

Tootsie Roll Defense: On advice from Timmy, a classmate, Eugenia attempted to corner the Tootsie Roll market but her mother cracked down. Instead of buying candy Eugenia began shorting the very money center banks and prime brokers who had loaned her money in the first place. As their stocks cratered Eugenia leveraged her position by sticking out her tongue at other managers and making them cry.

Treasury Secretary Paulson is insisting that the loan to Eugenia be nullified and that her controlling interest in Citigroup be “rolled back.” But My Hedge Fund has liquidated its position: Eugenia has fourteen billion dollars in treasury bills.

Governors on a Blanket: Many of the central bank’s regional governors attended Story Time today, and one, Ben Bernanke, had to be hushed by Mrs. Haggerty. “Chairman Bernanke was urging Eugenia to underpin the US dollar when Mrs. Haggarty reminded him that Story Time is also Quiet Time.”

Executives from Merrill Lynch, Lehman Brothers, and Morgan Stanley will conference call with Eugenia unless Scooby Do is on. “They had better not call after six,” Eugenia’s Mom warned. “Especially from the Euro Zone,” she added.

T. Rex Love-handles reporting.

Gastropod Alley: As if the hot weather were not enough Wellington Leg was shocked to learn that their very own Earl of Watership Down has been swallowed by a whale. The incident occurred Sunday when the earl sailed his Fred Flintstone model raft into the choppy waters of Great Bowring Bay shortly after brunch at the Hotel Faz. Sailors aboard the Adrienne Barbeau observed the earl rowing east southeast when the mammoth beast rose from the depths and swallowed him. They notified the Port which, in turn, notified the ship that the port had been notified.

Ironies Abound: Just last spring several whales beached themselves near Cape Schmier. The earl drove them back to the sea by reading aloud from his masterpiece VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA. Whales, despite their great size, fear bad prose as much as the next guy. He then saved a Beluga that Boris has flushed down the toilet eleven years earlier unaware that the fingerling was now bigger than a Volvo station wagon.

Raft recovered: Local potter Anthony “Tony Prawns” Provenzano had just finished throwing a business rival over his roof when Fred Flintstone sailed through the air striking Mr. Prawns on the chin. By the time the Flying Squad arrived, the damage had been done: twenty three bullet holes had punctured the raft destroying the Pebbles and Bam-Bam outriggers. “Who shoots a rubber raft?” asked DCI Borchardt. “Who flushes a whale down a toilet?” Mr. Prawns rejoined.

How whales Communicate: a waterlogged note reading “swallow the earl” washed ashore near the Betty and Veronica extension of Wellington University. Professor Moriarity examined the note using a cathode ray and a bit of spandex: “I can tell you that the note was written by a blue whale using a Sharpie,” he said. “Now we know how whales communicate.”

Hizzoner considered lowering all flags to half mast but no one could shimmy up the flagpole. Anyone wishing to offer assistance in the matter may contact City Hall or by writing a note using a Sharpie.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: The launch of the Book Spacemobile has been delayed sources closest to Big Rock Candy Mountain report. Wellington Leg Orbiting Books, a Nevada Corporation, reported a Big Bang after volatile rocket fuel spilled all over a nearby housing development.

The Flying Squad responded to a complaint from Mrs. Phillida Beaufort of Number Two Politburo Prospekt. “She claimed that scientists had trampled her bed of primroses,” DCI Borchardt reported. The team of specialists had been dispatched to assess the fuel situation. When police arrived they found no scientists but did notice a grazing hippopotamus in the front yard.

One of Our Hippos is Missing: Over at Greg’s Haus of Hippos wrangler Marty is counting noses. “Well, we had thirteen hippos yesterday. Now we have fourteen, I mean, twelve.” Thirteen hippos is a Baker’s Dozen. Fourteen is illegal. Twelve means that one of our hippos is missing.

Mrs. Beaufort is against the orbiting book mobile. Last year a decaying spy satellite fell to earth mere inches from her late model Volkswagen Jetta. “I expect more from our city government than having books falling from the sky,” she said. “And, they are not addressing the hippo menace.”

Hailing the Hippo: “It’s not easy getting the attention of a grazing hippopotamus,” DCI Borchardt said. Members of the Flying Squad shouted and waved their arms to little affect. “Look it’s yawning!” someone cried. Attempts to trap the hippo with butterfly nets only aroused the creature’s ire. Before lumbering off the hippo crushed an official police bicycle.

Some believe that the Big Fat Guys secretly support the books in space program and my be using the hippo threat to garner public support. The space station would have a lookout tower providing an early warning system should hippos mass in numbers near Towne.

Science Editor Delancy Clancy reporting.

Wellington Leg: Last week’s daring heist of the portrait EARL WITH A PEARL EARRING may have been engineered by the brain discovered in the lost and found at Hizzoner’s Reassembly Ball. While local dignitaries celebrated The Restoration thieves made off with the masterpiece that dates to the earl’s Butterscotch Period. The nine by twelve oil painting depicts his right honorable self gazing at a hubcap believed to be the last vestige of his 1927 Hispano Suiza saloon car.

Sometimes called EARL THE PEARL the painting formed part of the dower bestowed upon King Pin the Second. Large sections of Michigan completed his lands and holdings before the Dowager Princess rebelled overthrowing the monarchy and sending counter party debt instruments into chaos.

We Arrest Only the Brain: Freelance writer Henderson Pugh is without his brain…again. Fortunately Mr. Pugh is completing assignments for People Magazine as well as transcribing the minutes of the Fed’s Open Market Committee. “He won’t need his brain for those jobs,” noted Dan Tana. “In fact he’s really in demand.”

The Earl in Shock: Reached in the far left hand corner of the Fighting Gastropods dugout the earl leaned on a Manny Ramirez hickory bat and refused to answer this reporter’s questions about the heist. “We really can’t have people’s brains running around loose…stealing art and stuff,” said Interim Manager Lars Kierkegaard.

Jello Mold Believed Eaten: If anyone has more Jello mold or has plans to make some, please contact the Flying Squad care of this blog.

T.Rex Love-Handles for the Wellington Leg Police Blotter.

Wellington Leg Lost and Found: Mr. Henderson Pugh of 14 Marriage of Figaro Gasse has claimed the brain left at Hizzoner’s Assembly Ball last Thursday evening. The brain had been checked at the door by mall security forces after Mr. Pugh created a disturbance by telling an attendant that “tota Gallia in tres partes divisa est.” He also remarked that he was planning to “throw a bridge across the Rhine.”

If He’s Not Julius Caesar, then Who is He? After the initial scuffle DCI Borchardt took control of the scene although his personal dignity suffered a blow when his Moderne Hairpiece took flight during an orchestral overture. After several orbits of the Hall the toupee buzzed the front row seats where dignitaries and luminaries screamed until rodeo star Mister Dubya lassoed the runaway rug.

Brain Labeled by Mom? The lost and found returned the brain to Mr. Pugh after they found his name taped to the Medulla Oblongata. “My mother labeled my socks and underwear,” Mr. Pugh explained. “She labeled my Canned Heat album,” he added. “Thank goodness.”

His Latin Outburst: Professor Dan Tana of the Left Brain Bank thinks Mr. Pugh spoke Latin in a previous life. “Certainly we know by now that Gaul is divided into many parts, more than three, more than thirty three.” Using a pair of heavy duty scissors Tana snipped away at a map of Gaul. “There you have it,” he said. “A million little pieces.”

Jello Mold to the Rescue: One of the toughest substances on earth, jello mold was used to preserve the brain for a week. “It’s working fine,” Mr. Pugh reported. “Except that now I speak Portuguese.”

Mr. Pugh is a freelance writer. “It’s not a job you can do for long without a brain,” he confessed. “A week, tops.”

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Great Wellington Bowling Green: Geraldo here. I’m whispering as I approach the statue of Bill Faulkner on the crest of a small hill above the bowling green. Like Robert Redford I’m tired of commercial interference with news reporting. That’s why I’m in the field to get a first hand look at Wellington Leg’s film industry at work. My cameraman is in the parking lot talking Indians baseball with my producer. I am alone out here.

From my vantage point I see the Forty Third Earl speaking with a witch. He’s leaning against the Eiffel Tower. I crawl closer through the spartina grass. Discarded industrial gears, lizard guts, the bloated husk of a rusting Chevy, closer and closer, all in the name of journalistic integrity, which, God knows, no one cares about anymore until her single yellow eye turns toward me…

Croak…croak…croak. What can it mean?

“Okay, cut. Someone get that frog off the set.”

“It’s not a frog. It’s wearing a Channel Five baseball cap.”

Croak.

“Look, it’s trying to use the computer!”

“The Eiffel Tower fell over! What next?”

“Let’s take ten. Bob, you fix the Eiffel Tower. Frederika, grab all the baseball hats. Don’t kiss that frog….”

I hear a ripping sound, smell a noxious blend of smoke and cheap perfume, my fingers are swollen, I’m at a Bread concert…

“Geraldo? Better get off the set. The Zombies are coming.”

This is what journalistic integrity feels like! I run for my life, the lede is writing itself: Production problems plague Paris set! Zombie strike is over! Witches are real! But I think she cured my writer’s block!

Geraldo reporting from On Location in Wellington Leg.