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Tales from Logtown High

  • A Long, Hazy Period

    We haven't heard much from the Logtown boys lately, because the mushrooms Simon found were, of course, psychadelic. So our heroes have spent a lot of time dazed, confused, and rubbing their faces and thinking the ants in the trailer were much larger and colorful than they actually were.

    The least desirable result of this is that the boys no longer have jobs. Or, more specifically, Simon and Fletcher have joined Richie in the jobless department. They traded mushrooms for pizza delivery and beer. They sold mushrooms to Richie's mom so they could pay their utility bills.

    But now the mushroom patch is barren, and the boys have begun to return to reality.

    "(unintelligible mumbling)."

    Richie's eyes opened. "What?"

    Simon rolled over from his face-down position on the floor.

    The mumbling became more coherent. "When are we?" Fletcher asked.

    Richie was silent for a long moment. "I don't know." His eyes began to focus on his hands, which were slowly working their way around his spot on the sofa. "Where's my cigarettes?"

    Maybe we should give them some more time to recover......

  • A Tale of Woe

    Fletcher and Richie have just concluded another game of Madden. Fletcher is not happy, because this time Richie scored three touchdowns. Fletcher still won, convincingly, but that’s more touchdowns than Richie usually scores in a week.


    “I’m gonna get a beer,” Fletcher said. “You want one?”

    “Hell yes, I want one,” Richie replied. “But how?”

    “The fridge holds beer, right?”

    “No. The fridge held beer.”

    Fletcher grumbled. “No money for beer now?”


    “Then this is a bad situation.”

    “Can’t you buy some beer?”

    “I already bought beer this week. It was supposed to be your turn.”

    “Damn, I need a job.”

    “I might be needing one, too. Apparently, the paper is considering closing the Logtown office as part of budget cuts.”

    “Can’t you move back to the big city, and work for them there?”

    “I don’t think so. The editor doesn’t like me. I accidentally called her a fat cow on an open conference call.”

    “So what will we do for beer?”

    “I don’t know.”


    It was at this point that Simon walked in. He wasn’t carrying a vegetable this time, which was unusual, and he had a plastic grocery bag in his hand. His eyes looked glazed, and both Fletcher and Richie noticed he was acting strangely. More strangely than usual.


    “Simon, what’s wrong?”

    Simon mumbled something that neither of them could distinguish.

    “Simon, what’s in the bag?”

    Simon said something that sounded like “Mmmm,” and tossed the bag at Richie. He missed.


    Richie picked up the bag and set it on the sofa between himself and Fletcher. Fletcher opened the bag so that both of them could look inside. They looked in, furrowed their brows, and looked at each other with puzzled looks. Then they looked back at Simon.


  • The coffers are running dry

    Sadly for our beloved Logtown fans, nobody suggested a new moniker for Young MC. So, he remains Young MC.

    The job search has been producing nothing for Richie. He keeps hoping for an ad looking for a male pole dancer, but the demand for such things is light beyond his mother's trailer, where he is expected to perform for free, and receives very few tips, other than to grease the pole so he doesn't get pole-burn.

    Facing a financial crunch, Richie has been saving cigarette butts and using the leftover tobacco to roll cigarettes. Early on, he was only smoking these every fifth cigarette, or every other hour, but the ratio has been closing in on 1:1 lately. Fletcher has arrived after another miserable day at work to play some Madden.

    "Hey Richie, are you ready to play?"

    "I'm not feeling like getting my ass handed to me again right now. I wonder if playing you has the same effect on my psyche as if I were married."

    "I didn't think you'd be in a very good mood, so I brought you a gift."

    "I hope it's a better gift than those chili farts you've been bringing with you the last few days."

    "It is. Here."

    Fletcher reached into his bag, and produced something that brought a huge smile to Richie's face. A carton of Marlboro Lights.

    "Fletcher, I'd marry you if I weren't a non-practing homosexual."

    "I know. You're welcome. You ready for Madden now?"

    Before responding -- actually before listening to Fletcher's question, Richie had tore open the carton, pulled out a pack, tapped it on his palm, opened the wrapper, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and taken a drag....

    "Yes, and I'll play a full game, no matter what the score."