Doswell Middleman Sick of being Cut Out, Looking Forward to Starting New Job in Air Park

Stating that he is sick and tired of the bad-mouthing that accompanies his profession, Independence Road resident and Professional Middleman Greg Warfield claims that since business is so bad and his reputation has been so impugned he is taking drastic action to restore his profession’s good name and more importantly, earn an income.

“Yep, I’m going to work in the air park!” he said as he hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Goin’ to the old air park!”

Warfield claims middlemen such as himself have taken an especially brutal beating in this economy. “But now I’ll be getting’ up early and driving to the air park!” he says, for what seems like the fifteenth time. In fact, he even sang a song he made up about working in the air park, to the tune of “Working in a coal mine”:

Workin’ in the air park,
Work until it gets dark,
Workin’ in the air park,
Look! I got a place to park!

5 O’clock in the morning,
I cruise to the Stop n’ Go,
Buy a greasy egg sandwich,
With a clump of bacon – to go!

Cause I’m
Workin’ in the air park,
Work until I make my mark,
Workin’ in the air park,
Look! I got a place to park!

Numerous attempts were made to ascertain just exactly what Warfield would be doing in the air park, to no avail. Numerous attempts were also made to get him to stop singing that moronic song.

Doswell Father of 5 Teenage Boys Thrilled at Finding Forgotten Pop-Tart in back of Pantry

Verdon Road resident and father of five giant eating machines Ward Maxwell had an unexpected thrill last Saturday when he discovered a lone Pop-Tart hidden behind some bags of pasta in the back of their pantry.

“It was uncanny,” claimed the somewhat impoverished dad, “I was cleaning out several empty cereal boxes when I dropped some sacks of Costco white rice and macaroni. Behind the bags I saw an old Pop-Tart box. I picked it up to throw it away and noticed something was inside – I looked and surprise! There was a Pop-Tart!”

Maxwell says the half-life of a box of Pop-Tarts is measured in minutes once they pass through the front door. “In this house things like Pop-tarts, donuts, Doritos and Little Debbies last no time at all – once the kids get wind of food like that it’s like a shark frenzy. Once I saw my son Moose eat 3 Moon Pies without unwrapping them. Another time my twins roared through half a box of the dog’s Gaines Burgers before they realized they weren’t Little Debbies.

Maxwell said that even though the Pop-Tart was a month out of date and a less than desirable flavor (coconut fudge) he savored it anyway after heating it lightly in the family toaster. “It’s been years since I enjoyed a Pop-Tart as much as I enjoyed this one” he said, glad to deny his kids Moose (19), Lardo (17), twins Brick & Tank (16) and Lurch (14) the pleasure of the revered toaster pastry and eating it outside so none of them could hear or smell it.

McDonald’s Drive-Thru Employee Uses Doswell Man’s Debit Card to Clean Under her Dagger-Like Thumbnail

Doswell Blogger Dale Brumfield stopped at the local McDonald’s drive-thru window to get a large coffee Thursday morning and was appalled to see the drive-thru employee use his debit card to scrape underneath her talon thumbnail while waiting for the card to process.

“I almost heaved,” said Brumfield as he accepted the “tainted” card back and wiped it down vigorously with an alcohol swab he found in a glovebox first-aid kit. “Thank God I only ordered coffee – if I got food I would have had to throw it away.”

Brumfield says that this McDonald’s has a history of questionable practices, the previous “here go your drank” episode notwithstanding. “Why I keep coming back, I don’t know. Once I saw an employee drop a bunch of cups then put them back on the stack. Another time I watched a cashier handle a bunch of money then re-arrange the chocolate chip cookies without washing.”

“I think maybe I like living on the wild side, you know, staring down botulism in the face and laughing as I dodge it once again.” Brumfield claimed as he rooted around under the seat until he found an old, curdled coffee creamer and dumped it into his coffee. “But you would think common courtesy would dictate . . . oh look, a fuzzy Milk Dud!”

At Doswell Speakers Consortium, George Bush Claims he Left White House in “Disarray”

Former President George W. Bush spoke at the 2^nd bimonthly installment of the Doswell speaker’s consortium Sunday night and admitted to leaving the White House in disarray at his exit.

“I am not proud of some of the things I did,” Bush said just after a dinner of that delicious spaghetti prepared by the Doswell “Ruriteens”. “I acted in ways that were not presidential, and I regret those actions.”

For example, the former President admitted his last day at the white house he emptied all the salt shakers and filled them with white milk. “You don’t notice until you go to shake them, then your food has been ruined by the milk.” He said. He also said he loosened the pepper shaker caps so they would dump all the pepper out. He also collected his toenail clippings for a year, then sprinkled them all over the white house, including in the carpet and in his bed. “If you’ve ever slept in a bed crawling with toenail clippings you know it is a horrible thing to have to endure.” He said.

Bush said he was especially ashamed of the practical joke he played on the Obamas in the bathrooms. “I lifted the toilet seats and wrapped Saran Wrap across the toilet bowls, then put the seats and lids back down” he claims. “In dim light it especially hard to see, and the results of this joke can be appalling.” Bush said the one bathroom he did not Saran Wrap was in the Lincoln bedroom. “I super-glued the seat and lid to the bowl,” he said, “I hear Barack broke a fingernail on that one.”

Other pranks played by the ex-President on the Obamas include discreetly wrapping a rubber band around the spray nozzle at the kitchen sink, shutting off the hot water heater and loosening all the light bulbs just enough so they flicker or don’t light at all.

“I left a legacy of goofball behavior of which I am most ashamed,” the now-retired Bush claimed, adding that he hopes the Obamas forgives him those lapses in judgment. “and I hope they discovered the Saran Wrap before it was too late.”

Doswell Account Rep & Wife Arrested in Tijuana, Mexico and Charged with Dissolving Boss

Former Teman Road resident Paul Holdfield and his wife, Babs, are being extradited back to Doswell following their arrest in Tijuana, Mexico and charged with poisoning his boss, Mr. McAdams with a strychnine-laced lemon popover and dissolving his body in a sulphuric acid bath in their home, which was set on fire following the murder.

Holdfield and his wife were caught by Mexican authorities as they imported scientific equipment into the Mexican desert that was being used to build a massive solar reflector, whose purpose is not entirely clear but is presumed by experts to bounce sunlight onto a major west coast city, setting a major conflagration.

McAdam’s former partner, Harold T. Farnsworth, reported McAdams missing three days after McAdams meal with the Holdfield’s. He expressed surprise over Holdfield’s involvement in his partner’s murder and his newly-discovered role as an evil genius. “Paul was a straight shooter, a real upright guy,” he says, “He just landed the Henderson account, so he had no reason to be upset or despondent over anything, so it’s more th . . .”

Farnsworth’s sentence was cut short just as his car suddenly exploded in a deafening fireball, showering the parking lot of McAdam and Farnsworth with flaming debris. At that exact moment, while riding shackled on the back of a Mexican armored car almost 2,500 miles away, Paul Holdfield looked at his watch and smiled.

Doswell Writer’s ‘James Bond’ Script Taken under Short-List Option by Hollywood-Style Agent in Reno

Old Ridge Road resident and Hollywood-wannabe Julius Armentrout is telling everybody he had an original screenplay for a new James Bond movie accepted on possible option by some guy who says he contracts for agents for Eon Productions and Broccoli Films, Inc, production companies for the Bond movies.

The script, tentatively titled “Silent Yet Deadly®”, will remain under option with Columbia Pictures until 2011. Agent Wally Saltzman (no relation to Harry Saltzman, one of the original producers) says from his office inside the Cowboy Motel in Reno Nevada (apparent Bond script HQ, pictured below), that Armentrout’s script is “at the top of the short list under advisement” for future consideration for developmental rewrites.

“It’s another script, what can I say?” says Saltzman from a pay phone in the Cowboy lobby, “I shop around scripts everyday – it ain’t freakin’ precious, I can tell ya that. Who did you say you were with? Oh, wait, did you say Doswell or Roswell?”

Armentrout sees this development as a positive first step toward getting a screenwriter credit for a future Bond film. “It has always been my dream to pen a Bond script,” says Armentrout, who is positive the script will be picked up by Eon and producers Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson. “Once they read it, it will go straight into production, I am positive it is that good. It is perfect for Daniel Craig, and I even wrote in a small speaking role for myself, which I am sure will stay in.”

Newsfromdoswell was given exclusive rights to reproduce a short section of the screenplay here:

Silent Yet Deadly

Scene 17
Bond has escaped from a North Korean prison camp and makes his way back to 007 headquarters. He has just entered through the airlock wearing a tux.

Z (a wheelchair-bound British inventor): acting surprised
“Ah! secret agent James Bond! Smashing to see you again! I see the North Koreans left you none the worse for wear!”

Bond (lighting a fag [British cigarette] and grimacing)
“Hello, Z. Bloody commie insurgents. They had no evidence against me - it was manufactured.” He blows out a wisp of smoke before continuing. “It all quite smelled bad. Horrid I’m afraid.”

Z’s face turns white. He waves a handkerchief in his face.
“Mother of mercy, double-O-seven, speaking of smelling bad, have you been eating cocktail onions again?”

Bond:
“Ah. . .only a few. . .but those bloody North Koreans. . .”
Bond turns to his secretary and holds up his right index finger.
“Pull my finger, Moneypenny.”

©2009 Julius Armentrout

“You may notice the amount of detail I put in to literally immerse the viewer into the story,” Armentrout wags, fit to bust over the screenplay before he goes off babbling about the rest of the story, which involves an incomprehensible plot involving chickens and used tires and God knows what else.

Agent Wally Saltzman had no estimates when the script would reach pre-production. “How about bein’ a real pal and reversing these charges? I’ll make it worth yer while!” he said when the operator came on and reminded him to insert another $1.25.

Hey, if it gets “Silent Yet Deadly” made, Newsfromdoswell will gladly invest that $1.25. Does that make us a producer?

Blood Test Confirms Doswell Man One Dippin’ Dot Away from Losing a Foot

Rotund Doswell gastronome and slow-moving health hazard Eric Waldbauer has verified that at yesterday’s doctor’s appointment a blood test confirmed that he literally is one Dippin Dot away from losing at least a foot to diabetes.

“My body is at a crossroads, health-wise,” reported the gouty, wheezing, morbidly unhealthy Old Ridge Road resident. “It took a half-hour to draw a half-pint of my blood, because they had to force it up and out of my arm like an almost-empty toothpaste tube. Then when it was finally in the bag it separated like that delicious 1970s dessert ‘1-2-3 Jello’. Finally, before it could be tested, they had to skim the clabber.”

“While I usually do not comment on my patients’ health out of privacy concerns, I am willing to risk a HIPPAA fine in saying that Mr. Waldbauer is hands-down the unhealthiest man I have ever met.” Claims a stunned Dr. Mike Sheldrake at Doswell Family Physicians. “He is the Montgomery Burns of Doswell, with literally thousands of diseases, afflictions, infections, syndromes and disorders, all related to his lifestyle and diet, all hanging in a delicate balance, waiting for that one mutated cell or rogue virus to send his health crashing into the abyss. It is remarkable, frankly. One more strip of bacon, one more spoonful of Crisco, or a drop of lard on the tongue is all it might take.”

Waldbauer shrugs off criticism of his "balanced" lifestyle. “Nothing’s killed me yet,” he says as his wife Wanda deep-fries yet another slab of country-style pork ribs. “I’ll keep eating what I like and they’ll keep auguring out my arteries with a toilet snake.”