All Entries Tagged With: "Rockies"

Colona Airport Observes Milestone Crash

Wildcat Creek — Storm King Syndicate — June 12, 2016

With the downing of Rasta Air’s prop jet yesterday morning, Colona has achieved what few other facilities only dread. Since the opening of the air shuttle/express and mini golf in 1986 300 planes have been lost at or near the airport.

Runways and trees have been the physical culprits in most cases although weather is often merciless miles above the scrubby mesa landing zones. Local pilots credit the morbid milestone to the 10% grade and the nearby abode cliffs.

Excelsior Airlines has called Colona its hub since the early Nineties although no one has seen one of the company’s fresh, sparkly attendant staff since 2007. Attempts to contact the airline by carrier pigeon proved futile.

The Federal Aviation Authority is expected in town later in the week according to unreliable sources congregated near the milestone.

– Fred Zeppelin

U-KLEEN-IT Chain Opens on Slope

(Ridgway, CO — Satin Pillows to Cry On — June 11, 2016)

An innovative approach to lodging costs is on the horizon. The first U-KLEEN-IT motor lodge is slated to open this fall according to elated owners who currently operate like facilities in Utah and Wyoming.

The innkeepers plan to open motels all over Colorado where the guest does his own housekeeping.

The concept is a simple one. Each guest checks into a reasonably clean room in the evening and before checking out the next morning gives the place a good once over: washing sheets, vacuuming, taking out the trash, making beds. If the place looks good he can expect to take a discount of up to 35%. off the price of the room. Guests can save even more by bringing their own towels and toilet paper.

“We’ve had a lot of problems with the bathrooms, winced the director of Custodolounge Inc., U-Kleen-It’s parent corporation on the Western Slope. “Most people don’t mind the basic cleanup but hesitate when it comes to scouring the ceramic, if you catch my drift.”

Local lodge owners agree that the idea, along with this news story, is stupid and will never fly.

“This is a pinhead’s way to do business,” said one. “We can’t even get our clients to wash their own dishes.”

– Julienne Pettifogger

The South May Have Risen

(Charleston, SC — Dixie Doings — June 10,2016)

Retired cavalry officer, Jeb Stuart Forest, claims that the American South has risen. The grandson of Confederate stalwart, Nathaniel Bedford Forest, insists that the Confederacy should be reinstated due to simple economics.

Forests’ dollar-for-dollar math is all related to the net worth of a Confederate dollar bill, printed in 1862, compared to that of United States dollar bill printed last week.

“I am holding a Rebel bill in my right hand and a Yankee bill in my left,” he said. “Any fool can tell you which one is worth more, and I ain’t talking about gold standards here. It’s the Confederate bill!”

Collectors ascertained his dramatic decree, adding that a one-dollar Confederate bill in good shape could bring as much as five dollars from a serious collector.

“Like most fiscal markets this once fluctuates daily and can be determined by such factors as availability and geographical demand,” said one ______. “What sells for a buck and a half in Natchez, Mississippi might bring three dollars in Savannah.”

Forest estimates that a Confederate ten-dollar bill could bring as much as $125 while the U.S. counterpart can be had for face value.

“Since all the wars since Abraham, the prophet, not the president, have been fought entirely over economics, I think my point comes home to roost,” said Forest. “The government that no longer exists is stronger than the one that continues to stumble on into the 21st Century. If things keep looking up we might be able to take Pennsylvania without sending in Robert E Lee.”

Forest, who lost a finger during the liberation of Grenada, hopes his ideas might branch out and dictate banking policies all over what was the Confederate Sates of America.

– Ambrose Early

Bear Poker

The following was whispered to me in perfect pentameter
by a large black bear that I met in the alley one winter night
behind Duckett’s Market in Ouray.
Why the bear chose to share the story is still not clear.
Jump in whenever the spirit moves you.

Jimmy John Card and his pal, Chip McCann
sat at Callahan’s table and dealt out bum hands.
The green felt was honored, a tenderfoot from France
Who brandished fine cutlery and a gun in his pants.

Through shuffles and side bets, throats cleared, poker stares
Drinks all around and in the fourth chair a bear.
That was me…the fourth player disguised in a cloak
though my hairy exterior, suspect when I spoke.

But first human misgivings about cheats and bold liars
were confirmed by my chip stack and their gold dust desires.
It started out friendly as the cards came around
and the chatter subsided as the wagers laid down.

It was Card with three aces and the Frenchman with four
that started the ruckus, accusations and more.
Then a blessed distraction of dance hall girl charm
kept the well-armed bartender from sounding alarm.

The Frenchman collected while Card bit his lip
and the lady departed with a drink and a tip.
“Let Charley sit in” squawked an anxious McCann
“Five’s a crowd” said the others poker faces in hand.

I grabbed the deck quickly calm invited, cards shuffled
crisply dealing them out, smoothing feathers just ruffled.
This time it was Card who raised up the bets
at each turn he went higher, it was he and I left.

What ya gonna do, bear? chided Card through his cigar
I’m staying I growled. Let’s see the last card.
I couldn’t believe it—Lady Luck’s hand of fate
with the nine of spades down I had pulled a small straight.

You’re cheatin screamed Card, when he saw all the spades.
I stared back at his pistol and death’s tight masquerade.
Now hold on a minute! checked McCann with a stare
This bear here is honest his spades fair and square.

And Card was placated though the loss was a jolt
and under the table he fingered his Colt.
Again cards were delivered and the bets were laid down
Plastic angels with wishes, nothing showin’ but frowns.

The pot’s right, and healthy, let the winner surmise
all the players were drooling at the sight of the prize.
I’ll raise ten said the Frenchman, and have no regrets
Hold your horses said Card, the pot’s not quite yours yet.

Card’s hand was one color, all diamonds in fact
The Frenchman held three queens, backed up by two jacks.
When the cards hit the table it was Card that first drew
his silver revolver provoking the coup

Then McCann pulled his rifle out from under his seat
and fired close range then made a retreat
The bullets dropped Card who had time to react
and his effort on target hit McCann in the back.

The Frenchman then gazed at Gehenna’s fine treasure
as a bullet tore through him, then one more for good measure.
It ain’t me that shot Frenchy, was the bartender’s finger
that pulled the slick trigger—no reason to linger.

The saloon crowd ducked down so the spittoons confide
while I grabbed up the money and made haste for outside
Swiping the pot was not much of a chore
the tin-horn bartender shaking, while he cleaned up the floor.

Three dead were the bounty, their souls with Old Scratch
and a black bear with money makes quite a nice catch.
I took every penny and bought drinks for my friends
who couldn’t believe I had come to such ends.

Now my fortunate windfall is down to one stack
Here’s hoping that devil don’t want his chips back.

June 9, 2016

– Melvin Toole

Biotech Pioneer Sloppy Housekeeper Says Mom

(Goat Gap, TN — El Moody Foodie — June 8, 2016)

A pioneer in the field of biotech foods often did dishes with a blow torch and carried out involuntary bacterial experiments in his refrigerator, says his mother.

“Mel would constantly rake his living room to keep it free of encroaching debris while discovering some 33 new species of mold growing to the size of a small dog in his vegetable crisper,” smiled Lucille “Mother Melba” Toole, hurling enthusiast and boat builder from Crookhaven in West Cork.

“I don’t approve of what those boys are doing over at the lab,” said the maternal Toole. “I don’t think people should eat food that has been tampered with, or modified genetically. Everything was fine on the job since that Monsatan rascal joined up. My boy Melvin may have 15 advanced degrees but what good are they when he spends the day making chemical fish sticks out of cloned egg shells.”

– Attila Diggins

“The Greatest” RIP

Boxer Cassius Clay, later known as Muhammad Ali, playfully hits The Beatles while at his training camp. From left to right: Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Ringo Starr, and George Harrison.