TROUBLE AT THE NUKULAR PLANT – Your Miss Lobotomy is, of course, disappointed to have no further news to report about our obnoxious selectmen (apart from the fact that This Very Gazette has reported that they were seen doing the Virginia Reel in the middle of Main Street following a somewhat noisy meeting last week). However, the news – the EXCLUSIVE news, dear readers! – which she has to report THIS week is of a MUCH more ominous nature than the attempted misdemeanors of our local officials, however moronically entertaining those may be. As the news comes straight from the mouth of Chief Nylon, and as this Ominous Event was observed by our very own eyes following our alertment by the doughty Chief, we feel perfectly at ease in reporting this to our small but faithful band of readers.

As Chief Nylon tells it, he was taking his monthly bath last week, splashing about in the River Dog opposite the Pet Casket Factory and the adjoining Bung Factory and somewhat downriver of the Vermont Cranky Ante- Nukular power plant. As the water which flows from the plant is pleasantly warm (about 92 degrees), and as it has scoured out a jolly little hot tub-sized declivity in the riverbed, the Chief bathes here every month yearround. On this occasion he had his Felix the Cat inner tube fixed firmly around his midsection, his bar of soap-on-a-rope dangling from his neck, and his bath brush in his hand. All about him in the water were arrayed his favorite rubber duckies.

As he floated and swirled in the warm water, singing a medley of his favorite songs (Wayne Newton admixed with snatches of Gilbert & Sullivan, Nine Inch Nails and Peewee Hermann), the Chief became aware (so he told us) of a hullabaloo rising from the riverbank on his port side. Looking over he saw two people doing what appeared to be a war dance on the bank. Squinting slightly, he ascertained that the shouting, gesticulating figures were none other that the Bung and Pet Casket Kings of Northfield.

Drawing from his waterproof back pack the collapsible oar he always carried in case of emergency, the Chief paddled toward the bank. Upon arriving proximate to the two manufacturers, the Chief could hear them shouting that there was trouble at the nukular plant, and that he, the Chief, had best hop out of the river pronto unless he wanted to be in deeper doo-doo (they also inferred that the Chief had not been doing doo-doo diligence). Two more strokes of the paddle brought the Chief to the foot of the bank, where, looking up, he saw with astonishment that the two captains of industry were both glowing a gentle green, much like the hands on the Chief’s Krazy Kat watch (a present from his old grammuvver when he were but a wee lad).

He heard the men shouting, “You! You! You!” as they pointed at him. Looking down at his ample corpus, the Chief was astonished to see that he, too, had turned a lovely shade of watchdial green, and that his duckies had done the same. Gathering up his flock with the collapsible fishing net from his backpack, the Chief made for shore and scrambled up the bank with the assistance of the green-glowing industrialists.

Once ashore and decently clad, the Chief learnt that televactive terribilum had leaked from the nukular plant into the river. However, plant officials assured the public that the effects would wear off in only a few years, but that in the meantime, all those affected would no longer need to turn on a light when they walked into a room. As this was going to be a considerable cost-savings, the plant officials hoped that the afflicted would feel kindly disposed toward the plant’s request for a 75-year license extension for the plant, which was completed in the first months of the Harding administration.

Feeling the need to promote good relations with influential persons, the plant owners offered free electricity for ten years to the Bung and Pet Casket Kings. As for Chief Nylon, he received 50’ of good leather fire hose, a new bell for the Village Hall, a spare team of horses for the fire wagon, and 200 replacement rubber duckies.

However, the Inter-Galactic Amalgamation of Com-Symp- Pinko Anarchist Anti-Ante Nukular Activists & General Nuisances have been picketing the plant from Mountpeculiar, which is as close as they dare come. Chief Nylon and the Bung and Pet Casket Kings, on the other hand, have been much in demand for events held after dark.