Singing Loudly

Hello, friends. They say that summer is a great time for short stories. I know no real talent when it comes to writing short stories, but I've decided to have a little fun. May I entreat you this summer with a tale about the events that happened last year in the town of Rumpus, an (almost real) American community on the fringe.

This is a story about no one in particular ... at least, no one you would know.

The story opens with the discovery of the body of local TV reporter DIDI STUART by three Rumpus elementary school boys; the first is named MARK SANDLEWOOD, a child of no apparent significance other than that he discovered the body with

WALLACE "WALLY" HOGARTH, also a child particularly lacking in significance, and

ERIK DERRIK BRAWN, III, a child of great significance since he is the son of

ERIK DERRIK BRAWN, JR., the mayor of Rumpus, which in and of itself is an extremely insignificant position, and he only got the job because his father is

ERIK DERRIK BRAWN, SR., the owner of the First National Bank of Rumpus, as well as half the homes in Rumpus and just about every business excepting that of

MADGE HARSHWOOD, proprietress of the world famous Rumpus Supper Club ("world famous" due to its unrivaled carrot cake) and great-great granddaughter of Rumpus's founder, the late RICHARD OTIS RUMPUSS, a man of notorious composure and ambition as he also started the Rumpus Country Club, donated his private book collection to start the Rumpus Public Library and provided the funds for the Rumpus Museum of Contemporary Art and Regional History, which is run by the sister of DiDi Stuart's boss MARION ROGERS, as well as

Ms. Stuart's self-appointed nemesis, SAMANTHA ROGERS FLAVOR, who seems to have a double scoop with whipped cream on everybody in the town of Rumpus since her job as the town plumber allows her to slip in and out of the lives of Rumpus's residents, and since everyone gives her readily without question, her job as The Rumpus Recorder's star reporter allows her to capitalize on the information for her husband JIMMY FLAVOR, the mild-mannered editor of The Rumpus Recorder, who often finds himself placating various members of the community because of what his wife wrote in the paper, especially the sheriff of Rumpus JOSEPH MUNDLE, who balances the majority of his time between the crossword puzzle and cleaning up after his idiot son MARTIN MUNDLE, a deputy in the town of Rumpus, whose main job is to collect the coins from all the parking meters in downtown Rumpus, but since he has no idea how to retrieve the coins, no one feeds the meters anymore, not even ... but enough with the introductions.

You can meet the rest of the citizens of Rumpus in upcoming installments, unless a comet strikes the Earth and Bruce Willis is unable to save us.

Many of you are probably wondering, "Where is this Rumpus?"

Rumpus (pop. 1,245.3; the 0.3 represents the mutant Siamese twin growing out of Marshall Church's posterior, but neither Marshall Church nor his deformed half make an appearance in this story - at least, I don't think they do) was once the county seat of Glenedin County, until they built the big Glenny Glen Mall in Glenglen. It was decided that the center of commerce was a far better home for the County Courthouse, etc., etc., etc.

I don't want to reveal the state in which Rumpus is located, but you probably have a town very much like it near you. Pat Sajak is not the kind of man who would have grown up in Rumpus; Jerry Springer is, but then by that same token so is Ted Turner. Monica Lewinsky might have been head of the debate club at Glenedin County High School. If you grew up in Rumpus, you probably would have gone to a college that specialized in agribusiness; ironically, Rumpus has the highest number of children that grow to become professional flautists in the world.

Many strange happenings and occurrences and coincidences have taken place (and continue to take place) in Rumpus, and very few of them were/are the result(s) of spilloff from the nuclear plant on the outskirts of town. The dead have been known to walk in Rumpus.

Ichthyologists and other biological research scientists come to Rumpus just to study the plentiful three-eyed fish that grow in nearby Lock Lake. Fried three-eyed catfish is a local delicacy. Don't mock it until you've tried it!

A semi-randomly reoccurring wormhole keeps snatching Rumpus children, and people apparently are more likely to spontaneously combust in Rumpus.

Rumpus has more Liberace sightings than any other town in America.

When the second episode of The Quiet Town of Rumpus is posted tomorrow, I'd like you to grab a taco and read it, but don't enjoy the story. You have to fear and respect the goings-on in Rumpus, lest they happen to someone you love.