David Thayer

Wellington Leg: Seeking an exciting new angle on the Russian invasion D&L reporter Tuffy Tuffington has been studying Cyrillic spam and the war’s effect on global stock markets. Tuffy is imbedded with motorized units of Russian infantry as they prowl the countryside rooting out potential enemies. One such encounter is detailed here in a Special Tuffington Post smuggled out of the combat zone by angry supporters of Hillary Clinton. Portions of the text have been deleted by military censors others redacted to prevent revanchist running dogs from subverting the truth. Tuffy is disguised as a fourteen year old Chinese gymnast for purposes not entirely clear to this reporter. Here, then, the Tuffington Post:

Wow, these shoes are tight. I should have brought an extra pair but I wasn’t sure how many pairs of shoes a Chinese gymnast might carry into a combat zone. You know sometimes you try on shoes and you’re wearing thick socks then you get them home and put on thin socks and the fit is all wrong. I think that’s what happened here among the mechanized infantry units approaching Alpha. Some of the soldiers are asking me questions in Chinese…I should have thought this disguise through a little bit better.

Though italicized for emphasis this passage hardly begins to describe the plundering of Alpha. Tuffy continues:

I am concealed behind a main battle tank as we approach Alpha. The Russians are congratulating me on the gold medal in gymnastics, setting up some uneven bars for me to demonstrate my gymnastic ability. This is going to be a crucial test for me and if I win their trust I’ll be accepted in the unit. I’ve got to stick the landing, I know that. Stick the landing. Even in these shoes.

Wish me luck, Tuffy Tuffington.

Great South Bay: Hizzoner declared a state of siege this morning as his reelection campaign entered its third grueling week. The mayor spent part of the weekend hugging trees and kissing babies before rolling up his pantleg for a photo op at the shore. Dogged by Papa Razzi and his gang of hecklers, Hizzoner christened a new edition of Jayne’s Fighting Ships in the traditional manner with a bottle of champagne. In a theatrical moment he walked the plank blindfolded after vowing to raise taxes on the Big Fat Guys who unleashed a twenty one gun salute.

A Tuffy Exclusive: While the mayor was at the beach I was with the Wellington Leg Defense Forces who fought a running battle with ravenous flavinoids. The Noids stormed a hillside redoubt hoping to seize control of the Little Pink House so emblematic of our Bailiwick’s enormous military power. This is not the first time flavinoids have attacked the Leg: it’s the second time, and well, this could be the last time, maybe the last time, I don’t know. I do know that the tambourine has fallen out of favor as an instrument and the flavinoids seemed determined to restore its popularity.

Who are They? What do they Want? Informed of the attack Hizzoner consulted renowned political advisor Mister Prawns whose flow charts, pie charts, eye charts, pop tarts, and go carts often reveal the electorate’s current mood. “We’re banning the tambourine for the foreseeable future,” Hizzoner proclaimed. The crowd cheered despite the distant rumble of artillery.

Hey Mister Tambourine Man: I don’t like to editorialize during the Tuffington Post because I respect the difference between hard news and opinion. I have to say, however, that whether or not we ban tambourines here in Wellington Leg, I hope it doesn’t become permanent. I have a tambourine in my basement. Am I a criminal now?

This is Tuffy Tuffington asking aren’t the flavinoids the real enemy here?

Wellington Falls: Where does electricity come from? I asked that question at an editorial meeting of the Druidical & Literary early yesterday. My boss told me that electricity comes from the light switch and sure enough he was right. After the meeting he took me aside and said, “That was a good question. Turn it into a hard hitting Tuffington Post.”

Water Feature: I’m embedded with a crew from Consolidated Steam as we seek the source of the Rhino River. After leaving Wellington Leg we pass the earl’s magnificent estate near Basking Shark. The grueling drive and close quarters make the crew edgy so we stop at a greasy spoon where bikers sip chai and throw darts. Everyone knows we’re from Consolidated Steam, but I think the bartender suspects I’m a reporter. My chai came in a regular cup with a Disney World logo on the side. The other guys got cardboard cups. No one asked me to throw a dart.

How Now Brown Out? Lots of customers are complaining that they have no electricity between eight in the morning and three in the afternoon. I’ve noticed that too because we use candles at the office. We’re in the high country now nothing but big horn sheep and McCain billboards shell casings and scorpions. The foreman warns us to wear our Con Steam hats all times now. Danger lurks behind every hanging basket where the hanging judge bangs his gavel demanding electricity.

One of Our Turbines is Kaput: “Probably damaged by a meteorite.” I’m reading my notes by flashlight…I think I’m on deadline. “This will take days to fix,” the foreman says. “We’ll make camp for the night on that ridge.”

It’s Very cold. It’s very dark. Coyotes howl. They say the outlaw Josie Wales camped here once. Oh man, here come those dart throwing bikers. Where’s my Con Steam cap? Where’s my chai?

Why did I take this assignment?

Tuffy Tuffington reporting.