VOLUME: UP ISSUE #16
GROUNDHOG DIGS UP GANGSTER'S TREASURE
While digging to enlarge his new music room, Groundhog Al Camus came across a small steel box which has been authenticated as the long sought buried treasure chest of none other than renowned
gangster Dutch Schultz.
Long wrongly rumored to have been buried in Phoenicia, New York, the treasure chest contained over 50 million dollars worth of cash, diamonds, gold, bonds and an antique container of Gold Bond medicated powder. It turns out that Schultz actually made frequent visits to Wowtown during prohibition to check up on his highly profitable champagne running operation, the source of
which was the natural champagne spring that feeds Wowbegon Lake.
Asked how he will celebrate his new status as a multi millionaire, Al replied that he will begin spending right away. First he will donate an unspecified amount to the Groundhog Anti Discrimination League, then he plans to buy out the sites of a newly proposed Starbuck's coffee shop and a McDonald's, in an effort to help preserve Wowtown's heritage and distinctly atypical character.
"I like that I can use an old dead gangster's money to help keep out new live gangsters whose coffee stinks and burgers contain bits of groundhog genitals."
VOLUME: UP ISSUE #187
GHOSTS OF HALLOWEEN PAST
Though it was many howl worthy moons ago, I still fondly recall many details from when they let us out of the Deep Sister's Orphanage to go Trick or Treating one Halloween. I guess maybe they thought we'd pass as 'regular' kids since we were in costume. I remember the sound of dried leaves crunching under foot as my pal The Mummy and I scrambled eagerly along the long shadowed sidewalks of Wowtown, the echo of panting and the smell of moistened papier-mache inside my beloved Frankenstein Monster mask which I'd labored over during countless craft hours at the orphanage. My young temples were throbbing below a pair of AA batteries that powered a tiny light bulb embedded in it's forehead and my vision was without periphery through the eye holes, I had to look to and fro to take in the beautiful orange glow of the Jack-o-Lanterns in windows against a flickering blue glow from
the TV inside each house (except for the occasional dark one at which it seemed perhaps Mr. Death himself had already made a stop). Then looking ahead I'd catch angry glares back from my friend as I was occasionally stepping on the end of his dragging gauze strip and he was gradually becoming unwrapped. Eventually a black cat took an unrelenting interest in the trailing rag and we inherited a pet until our final destination was reached and the
creature was distracted by a mad frog, that place being of course the devastatingly Halloweenish old Margory house up the hill at the dead end of Kim Novak Street.
Of course it was a long time getting there as we had to stop at each and every place in between to collect that which by rite, on this night of nights, was ours for the asking: caramel apples, Jolly Ranchers, DARK Chocolates, Everlasting Gobstoppers, vampire headed Pez dispensers and like treasures, as well as unavoidable worthless pennies, religious propaganda booklets and such.
When we entered through the monstrous door of the towering creaky old place we found it to be hopping. Around a great and lengthy table was seated a wild collection of witches, goblins, ghouls, pirates, a robot, a fairy princess, the frog that acted as decoy to our cat and a family of three-eyed sheet ghosts (obviously three-eyed Bernie Cyclophocles and his daughters).
Dear Old Lady Margory, being dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, was happy to seat me at the head of the table, right next to Al the Groundhog in his lizard costume (The Mummy had gone off to re-wrap).
As most of you know already, it is a tradition at Margory's each Halloween to serve all who visit a heaping bowl of fresh steamed Mussels from Wowtown Lagoon. A trio of zombie-looking servants paraded around the table leaving a bowl before me and one for Al, but Al politely declined.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" I inquired.
"I don't eat my own," Al replied.
I laughed, but he seemed deadly serious. Well, as serious as a groundhog in a lizard outfit can appear to be.
As I began popping open the little shells and lifting my own shell (my mask) momentarily to slide the little buggers into my mouth, Al explained:
"It's a sacred thing, the migration of the soul from one vessel to another. Don't you see the spirit rise from each little being as you open it's shell?" I don't think Al would have continued to speak if he could have seen my reaction to his bizarre rant, but since I was wearing my mask, he went on: "Look there!" he said, and sure enough, as I opened another shell a small puff of steam lifted and, much like a tiny ghost, made it's way up towards the skylight high above, where along with several other puffs from around the table it broke through the cobwebs, sent some bats scattering, and slipped through a crack in the glass and into the night sky. After contemplating this a bit, I asked:
"Migrate...to where?"
"Well, to the fields they'll go, and into the holes, and in the spring they'll be reborn as groundhogs, of course."
"Of course," I conceded, and popped another lifeless critter onto my tongue. "It's okay if I eat them though?" I asked.
"Oh yes! It's imperative that the circle of life continue!"
"Yessssss!" hissed The Mummy, having reappeared in fresh wrappings made mostly of toilet paper.
All these years later, there are still new traditions to be found based on the countless manifestations of this unique Holiday, and I still return to the old Margory house each year for a bowl of Mussels to make sure the groundhogs are plentiful.
VOLUME: UP ISSUE #17
A SPIDER'S CHRISTMAS
'Twas the day before Christmas and school was let out early! It was that special day of the year when the children of the Huxley family of spiders rush to the Crickshaw Bridge, off the northeast end of Wowbegon Lake, to play their forbidden annual game of icicle climbing.
To prepare for the game, first a large patchwork quilt of web was spun together by all the participants. It was then stretched horizontally above the frozen river underneath the icicles hanging from the edge of the bridge, forming a large trampoline. Then the spiders would take turns leaping from the bridge, bouncing off the trampoline and attempting to grab hold of and cling to an icicle. If this was managed, the spider would then attempt to climb the slippery icicle back to the bridge. At the end of the day the spider with the greatest number of climbs would be crowned Ice King, or Ice Queen, and all must bow before him or her. A well aimed, powerful bounce is required, and most spiders are unable to reach, let alone grab on to an icicle.
Jimmy was a little smaller and tended to be a bit more clumsy than the other spider babies, his feet were not as sticky and his attempts to ejaculate a proper web were usually embarrassingly unsuccessful (it shot out like a spiraling mass of silly string). He was a figure of ridicule for his siblings, nevertheless it seemed that this was his day to turn things around, as on his very first attempt he not only bounced high enough to reach an icicle, he was also able to grab on and HOLD! Throngs of tiny spiders gasped in awe around him. He could hardly believe it himself as he clenched his multi-faceted eyes shut, took a deep breath and told himself "Now, now Jimmy, don't let your excitement foul this up. Hold on tight!"
He knew he still had to make the climb, and that the most devastating thing that could happen would be to slip off now, after having come so close to victory. So he held on tight while he regained his composure.
This turned out to be a grave mistake, for he held TOO long, and when he tried to move the first of his eight tiny legs he found it to be frozen to the ice! He grunted, groaned and strained. He tried each other leg, one at a time, but each was unfortunately very much as stuck. The other spiders began to snicker and giggle and nod their heads back and forth, then went back to the game around him for the rest of the day.
As it got colder and evening set in he realized he'd probably be stuck there all night. He would have to wait until morning and hope the warmth of a new day would be enough to thaw him free.
Gradually his siblings filed off into the night, with an occasional "Merry Christmas Jimmy!" thrown at him spitefully. And through his cold multi-faceted eyes he saw a multitude of warm things: distant webs of Christmas lights began to go on in the nearby town, candles burned in the window hole of a nearby squirrel family tree. And then there was smoke coming up from Al the Groundhog's hole, probably from a lovely fireplace that made him think of the nice fireplace that must be burning below at his own family's home back in the rafters of the Tailspin Tavern. There they would be stringing eight tiny stockings for each brother and sister from the big family web, and they'd all be excitedly preparing for the arrival of Big Santa Spider later tonight, with his eight bags of treats, flying through the night in his sleigh pulled by eight tiny flies stuck to webbed reigns.
Yes he had plenty of time to think up there on that icicle, little Jimmy did. He shuddered with thoughts about creatures that might swoop in on him in the darkness and how he was pretty much a sitting duck up there. But maybe that wouldn't be such a bad way to go, because what really scared him were thoughts about the anticipated wrath of his father, Daddy Long Legs Huxley, whom it should be said ruled with nothing less than an iron spider fist. Once he had even violently ripped the front two legs off Jimmy's brother Aldous when he was caught examining a pornographic site on the Big World Web, leaving him to lead the shameful life of a veritable six legged insect!
Snow began to fall and tiny multiple tears began to drip and freeze into tiny icicles from all of Jimmy's eyes. Exhausted, he finally passed out.
In the morning the sun did indeed shine down on a sparkling, crackling crystal landscape and Jimmy melted free and dropped with a soft bounce on the web trampoline below. There couldn't have been another being in all of Wowtown happier about it being a sunshine Christmas, but he was still very frightened about facing Daddy Long Legs who would certainly be waiting to deliver a severe punishment. His fears were unfounded, however. For due to a long standing family tradition of which Jimmy was too young to be aware, Mommy had eaten Daddy during the night.
Happy Holidays from all of Wowtown!
VOLUME: UP ISSUE #18
GROUNDHOG DAY OUTCOME UNDECIDED, MAD DOCTOR JAILED AGAIN
It was clearly an overcast day Sunday morning and there was little question as to the verdict that would be delivered on this Groundhog Day. As is commonly known, on this important holiday if the groundhog emerges from his hole and sees his shadow, he will retreat back into hibernation and we will be beset with six more weeks of winter. If not, then springtime is just around the corner.
Beneath a thick blanket of clouds hanging comfortably low in the cold sky a small group of faithful waited patiently around groundhog Al Camus' hole in Dog Bark Park. When Al finally poked his head out he was whistling nonchalantly and carried a small fishing pole over his shoulder. He also wore sunglasses ("Just in case," he was overheard whispering to the children) as he gleefully strutted off in the direction of Wowbegon Lake.
Suddenly he was encircled in a harsh and piercingly bright pool of light! A startlingly evil looking shadow stretched out menacingly before him. All in one action, he leapt upwards and shrieked in horror and dropped his tiny fishing pole, turned and dove head first into his hole.
Unbeknownst to Al, the bright light, which was still beaming down, had originated not from the sun but from the upper branches of a nearby tree, and from here now also came peals of sinister and demented laughter. The townspeople, gasping, half covered their eyes and squinted trying to make out who was in the tree. But though no one could see him, the disturbing laugh was recognizable and familiar to all as that of recently escaped convict Dr. Frank Macabre! Unfortunately for the Bad Doctor, he was so precariously positioned up there in that great oak that his wild, bouncing fits of laughter caused him to lose his balance. He and a massive spotlight came crashing to the ground below in an explosion of glass, metal, and smoke and the distinctive snap of breaking tailbone. Even then the maniacal laugh continued.
Injured and unable to escape, the doctor was arrested and jailed, charged with several counts of interfering with nature amongst other things.
"Interfering with nature is the BUSINESS of science!" he protested.
An emergency meeting of the City Council has convened to debate whether or not there will indeed be another six weeks of winter in Wowtown.
In a related report, Open Mic Night at the Tailspin Tavern has been canceled until their stolen spotlight is replaced.
