All Entries Tagged With: "Ouray"

Tyrannosaurus Jim Bob Terrorizes Elk Avenue

Caught Between Japanese Horror Films and the Nightmare of Bud Lite Commercials

2020 Continues to Provide Surprises for Crested Butte

(Crested Butte) A monster the size of a mammoth trophy home continues to prowl Elk Avenue this morning, frightening shoppers and disrupting the cosmic flow. Dubbed Tyrannosaurus Jim Bob by local jokesters the lizard-hipped intruder resembles the much-feared carnivore Tyrannosaurus Rex, from bygone days.

Local lizard experts say the monster probably emerged from Lost Lake because that sounds about right and matches up with the Jurassic  cross-references “as well as anything else” . Other scientists, on the scene since the dinosaur’s arrival on Monday, say he might have crawled out from local sewers or even from under the melted snow. They blamed residents who often bring back baby lizards as pets from Florida then flush them down the toilet after a few weeks. Either way, the monster is here and everyone wants him out.

When asked why anyone would keep a baby alligator around town for even two weeks the source said she did not know.

“Keep in mind, we’re dealing with a creature with a brain the size of a walnut,” said one deputy sheriff, “and I’m not talking about a government official here. All the years of Free Ski

didn’t prepare my department for this kind of duty.”

“What are we going to do if he’s still lurking by Christmas?” asked one parade organizer. “We’ve tried to lure him over Kebler with prehistoric treats. We’ve tried to have him towed away. We’ve even subjected him to hours of The Tamburinda Trio*, but he’s still here.”

In just three days Jim Bob has overshadowed both the World’s Largest Elk and even Princess Vail herself. If the pace continues he will emerge as far more notable than both Pike’s Peak and the Garden of the Clods near the holy city of Colorado Springs.

He’s right up there with the Denver Broncos,” said one stool jockey.

Denver TV news professionals, who at first called the entire episode a hoax, were eaten for breakfast (SUVs an all) by Jim Bob earlier today much to the chagrin of proprietor of Soupcon, who had laid out a substantial brunch for the giant lizard.

“We had a massive feast prepared for the ungrateful freak up Washington Gulch,” according to a spokesman for the eatery. “But I guess when a dinosaur is hungry for fresh meat he will not be denied.”

Already many summer events in the town appear in jeopardy. One source with the Crested Butte Arts Festival has announced plans to combine that event with a quickstep Crested Butte Dinosaur Days celebration featuring Brontosaurus on a stick and the traditional Pterodactyl pie.

“We may have to move our arts and crafts booths over to Sopris or Maroon if he continues his preference for Elk,” she said. “His tail alone could create havoc with our electrical hook-ups and that says nothing of the pooper scooper dilemma.”

Local biologists insist that Jim Bob is simply in town searching for a suitable mate and that if he finds one he will return to the wilderness. Teams are scouring the Petrified Tourist Arches and the Edith Bunker National Forest for signs of a female Tyrannosaurus. So far they have had no luck although one local lady has offered to meet Jim Bob for a drink.

The situation has gone from bad to worse. Just last night Jim Bob was observed attempting to seduce a 65-foot RV over on Teocalli. After about an hour of suggestive traversing, the thing tipped over, instantly ending the romance and terrifying the inmates, an elderly couple from Kansas.

Architectural watchdog, BOZO, has filed a lien on the reptile saying that Jim Bob fails to adhere to building specifications. Authorities, beside themselves over the incident, hope that the dinosaur could get caught up in red tape and thus be forced to comply with the town’s many ordinances.

“Either that or we appeal to his sense of good taste and historical precedence,” said one officer.

Biologists at the Rocky Mountain Flowers and Marmots Laboratory at Gothic insist that the giant lizard is on a mission. They feel it has something to due with the dinosaur soup bones unearthed from a vacant lot adjacent to the Talk of the Town Tavern on Elk.

Most of the region’s cool heads concluded that the animal must be trapped and be sentenced to ten days in the Gunnison Jail plus 40 hours of public service. No time or date has been set for compliance deadlines and the serving of warrants. Just exactly how the who and where  cards will be played is still up in the air.

– Kashmir Horseshoe

*said the drunks over at the bar

Tiny Spouses Trending into 2021

(Smallville, CO) The popularity of Tiny Spouses comes as a shock wave to the more traditional courting and marriage choices. According to the experts it’s an option whose time has arrived.

Maybe its overpopulation and loss of personal space or maybe it’s just an expedient alternative. Whatever it may be, it’s compact and packs a wallop at the altar or before a justice of the peace.

According to the latest poll conducted by Cal Polygamy Institute, the embrace of the diminutive is on the rise. A growing conviction to see smaller as better has become an overwhelming tendency, especially in affluent circles. Since 2018, tiny spouses, shunned just 10 years ago, are becoming the new norm.

The odd popularity of these arrangements can be circumstance, convenience an even economic since smaller people eat less and take up less room in the bed. Mobility is also a consideration and tiny spouses can be ready to go at the drop of a hat.

“Compact works for both of us,” said Eleanor Mackerel, who with her two-foot mate enjoys a progressive lifestyle. “My only issue is that he’s hard to find if the grass gets too deep.”

Positive attention has burgeoned in tight urban regions and the low-density backwoods too.

“People can survive quite well on limited space and with limited input,” continued Mackerel. “The rest we blame on true love.”

– Tommy Middlefinger

HUNTERS TAKE 7,000-POUND ELK

(California Mesa) Texas hunters today nailed what is probably the largest bull elk ever seen around these parts. Weighing in at just over 7,000 pounds the wapiti charged right into the record books outpacing all former competitors. His status as deceased will not create a negative impact on the accolade.

Biologists circulating the region suggest that the giant elk may have wandered over the plateau from the Twin Cities (Nucla and Naturita) after feasting on tailings from uranium days.

“Sometimes exposure to radium has adverse effects on wildlife, as well as humans, said one biologist. “Those boys (the hunters) won’t be hungry for a long time.”

It was later learned that the hunters would keep the trophy rack and donate the meat to an open carry cafe.

-Myrna Tilapia

Dinosaurs to blame for Slope roads

(Denver) The often-deplorable condition of Western Colorado’s roads is due to centuries of abuse by dinosaurs according to Governor Jared Polis. Likening the destruction to some 50,000 tractor-trailers dropped directly on the asphalt from the sky, the governor praised road crews and defended disbursement of public funds during his reign.

“These mindless lizards never paid one penny of highway tax either,” chimed newly elected Colorado Senator, John Hickenlooper, from the veranda of the gubernatorial mansion here. His appearance would be cut short as weather experts warned of a particularly dangerous brown cloud air index levels, serious enough not to be diluted by hot air originating with Hickenlooper.

The governor went on by blasting critics and free-lance skeptics who were quick to point out that no dinosaurs have roamed these parts for centuries. He equated the lack of attentiveness to history’s manifold destiny and the chronic fiscal irresponsibility of more recent times.

“This is no partisan issue. These animals did the deed many years ago and we are paying for it today,” said Polis. “even before they built Interstate 25.”

“One cannot discount the damage wrought on our transport arteries by these ignorant beasts or enormous mass,” continued the senator. “I am a brewmaster by trade and I’m not brewing far fetched tales here. Other states like Texas and Arizona have far nicer roads and the common denominator there is that no dinosaur bones have been exhumed.”

Governor Polis called on all students of motorized travel to do their homework on this issue. He promised to appoint a committee of archeological teams to further study the problem. Dinosaur fences have been proposed as well as a fossil fuel pipeline from Alberta to the Gulf of Mexico.

“We have already started building dinosaur crossings (with tunnels) and creating a sense of tight security around the more prevalent digs,” said one fossil scientist. “Some of our flaggers have even reported seeing dragons in the Bland Valley and the occasional rogue unicorn on the Uncompahgre Plateau. We must be careful not to upset the natural balance or there goes out chance at cheap gas for another generation.

It is commonly held that one day dead dinosaurs turned into oil much like Rumpelstiltskin straw turned to gold or Pinocchio puppets turned to real boys.

A Colorado Department of Highways spokesman assured voters that the problem would be handled and that residents and visitors alike would once again experience a quality drive on our highways.

“This is outrageous!” said one Republican county commissioner. “Next he’ll be telling us there won’t be a state of the state address because the dinosaurs ate his homework. Imagine our ancestors tied up in traffic trying to get to the gold fields or to the Rapture or to attack sleeping Indian villages. Not on these roads!”

There has been no response to the issue by the powerful dinosaur lobby since it is believed the group has suffered extinction, which according to some is the exact opposite of evolution.

– Kashmir Horseshoe

     

POGO HAD IT RIGHT ALL THE LONG

THE GREAT AWAKENING

After a less than glorious hunting season we thought it would be appropriate to take a daring left turn in traffic and consult with our good friend, Uncle Pahgre, who, among other accomplishments, wrote the Division of Wildlife by-laws and designed the field uniforms for most herd animals participating in the annual hunt. He also claims to have taught Chief Ouray how to hunt elk.

(The following is taken from The Tail Waggin’ the Dog

by Uncle Pahgre, as told to Melvin O’Toole.)

     

If I had a nickel for every leg-pulling, eyeball rolling hunting story I’ve heard in the San Juan over the decades I’d have the cash to buy one of them fancy car phone or at least a plug of decent chew. A list of the most preposterous episodes chronicled over the past twenty years would have to include the one told by my eternal fishing buddies, Delmar and Cedric. We’re not talking liars here. We’re talking the perfect blend of a severely twisted imagination with a retarded memory thrown in to boot. Here is Delmar’s rendition of the time the two found what appeared to be a stiff along the San Miguel River during deer season.

It was a particularly inhospitable November morning. Me and my cousin Cedric were out prowling for buckskin. We wanted to see how the local herd was up to before we dropped a bunch of money on licenses. I was on the far side of the river and Cedric walked the east bank. We scanned the area for about ten minutes when all of a sudden Cedric liked to jump out of his skinny hide.

“Delmar, come quick,” he gasped, as I made my way across the water at a low spot. “We got us a stiff!”

Well, sure as hell when I reached the spot in question there was a full-grown man, in blaze orange, just as frozen as one of those store pizzas. We didn’t know what to do at first so I pulled my trusty jug and took a swallow. Cedrick did too. Then we sat down and had another.

“I wonder what he was doing out here?” started Cedric.

“Whatever it was, it sure didn’t agree with him,” I answered. “One thing’s for sure, though, we had better get this boy to the police before rigormortis sets in.”

As we sat there perplexed the weather began to warm up a touch. I would have to get the pickup that was parked about a quarter mile away down river.

“You stay here and mind the cadaver, Cedrick,” I told my cousin, “and I’ll go get our transportation.”

“I ain’t babysitting no stiff,” said Cedric.

After a little reassurance and a promise to leave the jug Cedric came around.

“Don’t be gone long,” he pleaded.

When I returned there was Cedric talking to the stiff. He was firing away telling his captive audience all about how to track elk through the mountains and how to field dress chipmunks, or something like that. I snuck up on the two of them. Cedric left the ground when I popped out from behind a stand of scrub oak. The stiff didn’t move.

“Don’t be scaring me,” said Cedric. “Ain’t things bad enough?”

After reflecting on that last statement I felt compelled to reflect on my jug. After another swig Cedric said, “What if the cops find us with this guy? Maybe they wouldn’t understand…”

“Now that’s good thinking, Cedric,” I said. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

We carefully loaded our find into the back of my Chevy. He looked quite comfortable and for a moment I thought I saw some color coming back into his face. We decided to bring him to Montrose since these boys in San Miguel County don’t have a morgue. As we started back toward Placerville I noticed my gas gauge was stuck on empty.

“We’d better head up Norwood Hill and grab some petrol,” I said to Cedric, who was now preoccupied staring at our cargo through the rear window of the truck. From time to time, on the way to Norwood, Cedric would offer an update on his condition. I had another swig and played the radio.

After purchasing two dollars of regular we decided to stop at the Lone Cone for a quick shot…what with all that road dust and all. We ran into a few hunters from Oklahoma and shared a few rounds. Then we climbed back into out outfit and headed over Dallas. We were almost down to Ridgway when Cedric pointed to our passenger in the back.

“That boy has rolled over. Look at him. Maybe we’d better flag down the sheriff!”

“He just flopped over on that last turn,” I answered. “Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere this morning. Let’s stop for a cold beer over at Old Man Prichard’s trailer.”

Finally after another hour at the Little Chef we arrived in downtown Montrose where we pulled up in front of Stockman’s Cafe. Although the weather was noticeably warmer we figured that we still had about an hour to make our delivery. We went in.

“Hey, Delmar,” nudged Cedric. “Ain’t that Joe Waterson from Gunnison? He owes me twenty dollars from last New Year’s Eve. I’m gonna get it.”

Cedric approached Waterson for the debt and I sat at the bar. Cedric returned and said he had settled for a few draws as his mark had claimed temporary poverty.

“I can buy you boys a few beers but that’s gonna be it,” said Waterson.

“We got us a stiff out in the truck,” whispered my cousin as another round of draws arrived. “You want to come out and have a look at him?”

“Not at this time of the day,” teased Waterson. “Have another beer.”

We sat and talked for about another hour. Soon this stranger staggered up to the bar and ordered a cup of coffee.

“Had a rough night?” I asked him.

“I’ll say,” he mumbled, downing his coffee and ordering more.

“You do look a little beat up this afternoon,” offered Cedric. “You want to sit down?”

He did so and after lunch I remembered our cargo in still the back of the pickup. I looked out at the sky. The temperature was already dropping.

“He’ll keep,” I assured myself and paid the bill.

“Yeah, that was some night,” continued our new friend who said his name was Jim and that he lived in Dalhart. “I haven’t been in that kind of shape since my first wife got married,” he laughed. “I think what I need now is a cold beer.

“Hell, I don’t even know how I got here. One minute I was walking along the river looking for my hunting camp and the next thing you know I wake up in the back of some strange pickup here in town.”

“You want to see what we got in the back of our pickup,” asked Cedric proudly, oblivious to the developments going on under his nose.

“Oh, no thanks, son. I think I’ve seen enough for one day,” said Jim.

“It’s a goddamn stiff!” said Cedric, a little put off that the stranger wouldn’t at least take a peek.

“Aw shut up, Cedric,” I shouted. “Jim ain’t no coroner or nothing. Besides, I think it’s time to get on with our delivery.”

Cedric and I made our way out the door. When he looked into the bed of the pickup he jumped again.

“Delmar!” he screamed, “our stiff is gone!”

“No kidding, Cedric,” I spat. “Our stiff is that guy Jim, from Dalhart. Now let’s clear outta here pronto.”

Cedric turned white as a ghost. As we headed back toward home my cousin noticed a red hunting cap lying harmlessly in the back.

“And that’s Jim’s hat too, huh?” he asked.

I told Cedric that the hat most likely belonged to Jim but that he could get another when he got back to Texas.

“Yeah, I guess we’ve already done enough for him, ain’t we?” said Cedric

– Kevin Haley