Dear Editor:

Has anyone seen my firesuit, firehat and goggles? I need 'em in case there's a fire in the trailer park. I used to be a firefighter. Before that, I was a fighter pilot in the Falkland Islands ... before that, I was a medic in 'Nam ... and before that, I was The Grand Warlock Ruler Over Scotland. Somewhere in between it all, I earned a bachelor's degree in physiology from some obscure university in Puerto Rico ... and a master's degree in physics from Boeing Corporation in Long Beach, California ... or maybe it was Canada. See these missing fingers? They got blowed off rescuing someone from a fire back when I was a firefighter ... I did NOT blow them off playing with firecrackers, no matter what Belinda's been saying about me ... and I say yes, at 51, I am so old enough to be a 'Nam vet. I was kinda thinking of replacing Belinda with a ittybitty girl elf I seen right here in the trailer park ... I even shot a photo of it just in case y'all try to tell me there's no such a thing as elfs. Now watch this ... watch ... watch me. If I exhale on this lighter, it looks just like a flamethrower.

Welcome Wagon Willy
Drinking Belinda goodbye in space #38

Dear Editor:

Willy is sooooooooo full of shit. You all have no idea just how full of shit he truly is. He's not funny; he's fucking NUTS. And he's got a doctor who prescribes barrels and barrels of Vicodin to him, which Willy washes down with cheap brandy. I suppose it keeps him from spinning right off the planet by keeping him firmly anchored to his couch. Willy also trades some of that Vicodin for meth every once in a while, usually when he needs to get up off that couch and do something.

Belinda Jameson
Coming to her senses in space #50

Dear Editor:

Do you know where gnomes come from? I do. I seen two of 'em get born. It's laundry machines that give birth to gnomes. Not garden gnomes, like the ones encircling the front of my trailer. I know better than that. But I seen a laundry machine give birth to twin gnomes.

I'd just washed a load of clothes. When my machine stopped, the dryer next to it stopped, too. The dryer had been making the most awful noise before that, like, BONG-KA-BONG-BONG-BONG-KA-BONGA-BONGA-BONGA-GONG-KA-BONG.

When I opened the dryer, a couple of wet, nekkid little gnomes fell out--a boy and a girl. Naturally, I screamed and ran home to my trailer, then I called 911. A red ambulance showed up and took me to some kind of retirement community, I think. Anyways, everybody in here is wearing matching pajamas.

Virginia Beadle in space #17
Getting some R&R in the county nuthatch

Dear Editor:

Oh, shit, I'm the last of the Mohicans, one lone remaining branch of the Dorque family tree. All the other branches got blowed off the tree when the family trailer exploded. Had I been in the trailer when it blew up, the Dorque family tree woulda got ripped out by the roots.

Donnie Dorque
Freaking out in the rubble of space #24

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