As if we had nothing else to fret over and carry with dread and loathing at the very bosom of our largely tattered municipal being, the shockingly self-absorbed town of Lamont was thrown back on their heels yet again this week when an area wiener dog, Honeybear, age 3, normally one of the sweetest and most affectionate of the smaller, yappier dogs in town, suddenly displayed a disturbing trend that has all the markings of a real pattern by waking up cranky for the third time in the last seven days. This unsettling reality, given the normally 'happy-go-lucky' nature of the dog itself, even factoring in the fact that the strange looking canine really doesn't have what could ever be reasonably called "real legs', has town insiders frantically reading their 'tea leaves' for even more ominous events waiting to spring themselves on Lamont like a stealthy, hungry panther availing itself upon a lone, isolated, tragically unaware sheep on some overgrown, forbidding jungle pathway a few minutes before dark really sets in! (Oh, and you know how fast it gets dark down there by the Equator!)"Oh, that is just great! Like we really need that right now!" bellowed the beleaguered mayor from the town's 'state-of-the-art' crisis management center (that doesn't even have a bathroom, either!). First, we have people who refuse to walk on a sidewalk because they are mad that Lamont paved about half the town, then we have people who are peeved because we are putting in a library for the kids of all ages, then we have that segment (mostly outsiders!) who is fuming because we painted the fire station, and now this! Oh, the winds of ill-fortune are howling again in this humble little berg!" he rambled disjointedly. "Now, even our sweetest (certainly our shortest) dogs are showing signs of psychological instability? And one never knows, being so close to the ground and all, maybe she is picking up some vibes that the less vertically challenged of us would naturally miss. Maybe her crankiness with the cats and her Pomeranian pal Peetie are really just cries of warning in regard to some hideous calamity just waiting to descend upon the town like some biblical plague or whatever. Oh crud! How do we plan against an unknown of this magnitude, for crying out loud?" sniveled the mayor who tends to crack under even the most modest of pressures and who is probably retiring to his darkened room nursing one of his supposed 'migraines' as we speak! "Oh, when will Lamont ever be allowed to have what even the most oblivious simpleton could reasonably call a 'normal day'? he whined. (Editorial Note: Come on, folks! Aren't you now more thankful for your town and it's capable management? Lamont, although well-versed in controversy and crisis management, often lacks that quite essential suburban calm and peace that many of you take for granted! Plus, with all those unfortunate cattle smells, not to mention the ranchers themselves, and the unique demographic and psychographic make-up that Lamont so proudly sports, isn't there at least a small part of you that just wants to run right out there and give your Mayor and Council a hug, for Pete's sake? We, of course, frown on hugs here in Lamont, but we do support the more socially robust "High-5". So, go show your appreciation for not being forced to live in Lamont today. You will be glad you did!)
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