by Akim Reinhardt
The Lede: Wombats ate five children at a drive thru restaurant in Omegosh, Texas last week.
The Body: A wisdom of wombats, on the run from massive fires in their Australian homelands, surrounded five children at a Checkers drive thru and lectured them on the disproportionate impact of the U.S. carbon footprint, before devouring them sans cutlery. Normally herbivores, the marsupials said later that they were eating young American child meat to make an ironic statement about climate change. Afterwards they were taken into custody and assigned a public defender. When reached for comment, their lawyer said the wombats were planning a hunger strike while in prison.
Ending: Does Jesus want us forgive the wombats, or blame the children? Perhaps we can do both.
*
The Lede: There’s someone in California who might like you.
The Body: California is home to nearly 40,000,000 people. One of them may like you. Like, really like you. That’s according to Cletus Nerdtoster, professor of probability statistics at California Polytechinc State University, who says chances are there’s someone in the Golden State who has the hots for you.
“Can’t rule it out. There’s just so many goddamned people here.”
But what to do about it? Nerdtoster has fewer insights into how to actually meet that person.
“I met my wife at the library. But if you’re not here in California, I guess that wouldn’t work.”
Nerdtoster says he is unfamiliar with how dating apps work.
Ending: Do you even want to be liked?
*
The Lede: Punk Rock music is dead at age 49.
The Body: Punk Rock music died fitfully last night at the La Hacienda Home for the Aged in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was 49 years old. Born and raised in southeastern Michigan, Punk Rock ran away from home after dropping out of junior high school. A brief first marriage to Avant Garde in New York City ended amicably. Punk Rock achieved notoriety in London before eventually going broke in southern California and fading from the limelight in the late 1980s. Grunge, its child by a second marriage to Riff, shot to fame in the early 1990s before committing suicide. Never fully recovering from that loss, Punk Rock spent the next quarter-century lifting weights, huffing paint, and flouncing around in worn denim and cracked leather.
“A tremendous influence on me,” said Death Metal. “Sometimes people are surprised when I say that, but it’s true.”
“YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!” concurred Speed Metal.
Punk Rock is survived by parent Iggy Pop; children Power Pop and Punk Pop; and its wheezing antagonist, Classic (née Stadium) Rock. It is preceded in death by former spouse Psychobilly; child Grunge; and estranged cousin Glam Metal.
Ending: What the fuck are you middle class suburban kids so pissed about, anyway?
*
The Lede: There’s a monster under your bed.
The Body: A one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater is under your bed, waiting patiently to emerge after you turn out the lights. Morris, as he likes to be known, is scrunched up between the floor and your bed frame, but after arising, will huff and puff himself up to the size of a pony. Capable of penetrating your dreams and driving you insane, Morris really just wants to be your friend.
“Right, yeah, generally me am misunderstood,” Morris said in an undeterminable accent. “Life the big weird.”
After haunting your unconsciousness for several months, Morris plans to take some time off and decompress with an appletini.
Ending: Grab Morris by the throat, squeeze hard (but not hard enough to cut off his breathing entirely) and tell him you love him.
*
The Lede: Ya know what? Sharing is fuckin’ hard.
The Body: Giving someone half your cookie? I guess that’s not too bad. But reaching down into the depths of your soul, pulling out a piece of your inarticulable essence, and holding it up for another person to see and feel? Yowser. That’s some hard core shit right there. It’s okay if you don’t do it. Honestly, it’s asking a lot. But if you do, I promise not to laugh or smash it or get distracted by CNN’s coverage of the wombat trial. Or judge you. I definitely won’t judge you.
Ending: Would you like half of my cookie?
*
The Lede: A new color of jellybean has been discovered in southern Indiana
The Body: A new color of jellybean, somewhere between mauve and puce, has been discovered in the third floor carpet of soulless exurban condominium off of I-69 near Oakland City, Indiana. Experts consider it a radical departure from known jellybean hues.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” claimed Pantone Artificial Coloring Consultant Georgina Whap.
Said by some to resemble St. Bernardino of Siena, the patron saint of advertising and public relations, the jellybean will be on display in the local Target parking lot until Labor Day.
Ending: Ya know what, it’s just a fuckin’ jellybean, whatever. They don’t even taste like anything.
*
The Lede: This news article was written for you, and you alone.
The Body: While 3 Quarks Daily boasts several trillion readers per minute (source: AI Data Hero), this particular news story, which you are reading right now, was written for just you and no one else. Each letter has been carefully selected, and every word assembled with masterful artistry for you and you alone. Indeed, even the needless use of Indeed to start this sentence, and the repetitive use of the phrase “for you, and you alone” in the Lede and the Body, are not only intentional, but mesmerizing.
All of this, for you.
Ending: No, not you. Behind you, to the right. Yes, you over there, blushing in the back. You.
*
The Lede: Wedding Notice
The Body: Madison Madison of Madison will marry Jackson Jackson of Jackson on Saturday July 22nd at the Church of Sacred Nomenclature. Harper Harper will serve as maid of honor, Logan Logan as best man, and Cooper Cooper will officiate. The reception will be held nowhere in particular and feature a showing of Everything Everywhere All at Once.
The Ending: Pray, let it come soon
*
The Lede: You might visit Baltimore.
The Body: Maybe eat a crab. See too many Christmas lights and endless banks of row homes. Marvel at the slovenly pace of gentrification. Witness some quirky things. Perhaps make a new friend.
Ending: Wow, is it actually gonna happen? Are you gonna visit Baltimore?
***
Akim Reinhardt’s website is ThePublicProfessor.com