Our Town: November 12, 2006

Horace K: Mayor Man?
Funny Little Man Claims Mayoral Race, Lifelong Friendships Formed

by Larry St. James, Our Town Staff

The mood was tense at Town Hall last evening as the powers that be finally got around to counting all those pesky votes ("Next year we'll just tell everyone to write it down instead of calling us," says a Town Hall spokesman). Several of the mayoral candidates stood by, anxiously chewing on the shirt of the person standing next to them. Do-good actor Stanley Tucci was there, as was little known candidate James Lee. Although the mood was taught with anxiety, a sense of camaraderie developed amongst the candidates as they waited for a victor to be announced. Horace K told tales of his days as a Soviet prisoner "even after there was no Soviet Union!" while James Walker kept the gang in stitches with his vulgar impersonation of disgraced ex-Mayor Thomas Allenbach. "Stop it! You're killing me!" gasped Tucci supporter Ton Shalhoub.

In fact, the joking only took the passenger seat once during the long evening, and that was when a winner was finally announced: Horace Kvscheznowski, aka Horace K, Chesterfield Ridge's very own funny little man. Upon hearing the results, Kvscheznowski exclaimed, "Is it true? Having is of race to finish!" For a moment, a cloud appeared cross the faces of the once chummy group, and the bonds that had just been formed seemed to weaken. Perhaps sensing this, icy lawyer Gary Smith stood up on a chair, his 5'7" frame commanding a deathly silence. All eyes on him, it seemed certain that Smith would then go about fulfilling his promise and begin the methodological process of revealing our town's secrets. But rather than slander up a storm, Smith clapped his hands and bellowed, "Here here! Horace K! He's our man!" At this cock's crow, a mighty cheer went up and Horace was carried out of Town Hall on the shoulders of his slain enemies.

The gang, led by Smith, headed to the Chesterfield Ridge Diner where owner Stylianos Messouka was quick to fry up some hash browns and silver dollar pancakes. "A special for the mayor!" laughed Stylianos as he carried in an impressive array of eggs cooked in a variety of fashions: poached, over easy, fried, scrambled, hard boiled, and raw. At the sight of so much food in one place, Horace's eyes welled up. Calls for a speech arose among the ever-increasing crowd of supporters and Horace responded by saying, "The egg, the pancake, the juice. It is all like on breakfast table commercial! But we are eating the breakfast foodings and it is on night time!" With that triumphant declaration, another round of joyous cheering and goodwill went up.

Even spoil-sport Sherry Lipton couldn't help but join in the fun, having reportedly coughed at one point during the celebration. Quipped Sherry, "This is absurd. The man can barely speak English--how does anyone think he's going to govern a town?" Even the quiet ones have a sense of humor it seems! Or should I say, humour: Would you like some tea and scrumpets? Ooh, my name is Mary Poppins!

After several rounds of fresh squeezed orange juice ("The best in entire country!" claimed Stylianos), James Walker, considered by many to be the favorite by a long shot, raised his putter and asked for silence. "I'd just like to take a moment of silence for our good friend Jack Habishaw. He was a dreamer and those dreams, while they eventually killed him, sent such an awesome fireball into the sky, the likes of which I doubt this old man will ever see again in his lifetime." All present raised their glasses and who could help but wipe a tear from their eye?

Sensing this may be his only opportunity for escape, No. 6 smashed a police officer in the face with a skillet, leapt through a plate glass window and began running. He made it as far as the Chesterfield Ridge Library before Rover got to him, at which point James Lee was heard to remark, "Oh snap! Guess he ain't so fast after all!" After all, indeed, young Lee.

As the night winded down and the sun began to rise, the crowd escorted Kvscheznowski to his new home: the Chesterfield Ridge Mayoral Condo. Finding the door locked, Stanley Tucci flexed, tore off his shirt and attempted to kick down the door ("It's much easier in the movies," he said later). After this went on for some time, the door opened, as if by magic or specter. But it was no witch or warlock, nay, it was the disgraced wife of disgracefully disgraced Mayor Thomas Allenbach. At the sight of her, a shrill cry went up and the gang descended upon her. She was carried to the Chesterfield Ridge reservoir, seven miles from the condo, and dumped unceremoniously into the icy water.

The deed done, a changing of the guard of sorts took place and Horace was installed in his rightful throne, declaring, "It is time for nappy, yes, but sun is arriving so as to make sleep the difficult with the eyes." Rest now, oh, mayor, for who knows what challenges tomorrow may yield. For now, Horace K will sleep the sleep of a true champion.

Posted by Greg White at 5:39 AM | Permalink | Comments

Our Town

The only newspaper in Chesterfield Ridge since 1988.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Recent Editions

Search

Last posts

Links