THE POTTED MEAT BYPRODUCTS COMPANY

By Mike Colin
A while back I happened to be downtown when I ran into a friend of mine called Mr. Giltman. He and I were roomies back when I was homeless and had to live under a bridge. He taught me a lot about survival when you fall on hard times. It seems Mr. Giltman had fallen on hard times after he had gotten out of the army way back in the 1960’s. He said he had seen some really bad stuff in some war. I think it was the Vermont War or some war that begins with the letter “V”. My history teacher in high school had to skip over the 1960’s period because it was too controversial. All I was taught in school about history is that we had a war against the communists and we won and now we are at war with terrorist because they do not like us because of our superior way of life.

When I ran into my friend Mr. Giltman he said he was still living under a bridge but, he was no longer feeling very well. He told me he did not have money for a funeral but, he had found out that he could have his body picked up and disposed of for free. He then asked me to do something really weird. He said that he would be going down to the “Habitat for the Hopeless”. That is a place homeless people go to, in Mr. Giltman’s words, “cash in their last sack of cans”. Mr. Giltman said that after he had passed, if I followed his remains I would find out something really interesting. Mr. Giltman said that because I was a legitimate investigative reporter I could get a really be scoop. I did not ask what the “scoop” was made of; I just hoped it did not rhyme with “scoop” and begin with the letter “P”.

A week went by before I got a call from the home where Mr. Giltman went to pass over into the next world or into some alternative dimension like Goth World or Toronto. I rushed over to the home but, Mr. Giltman had already cashed in his last sack of cans and received his bottle deposit slip which, they tied to his big toe.

I waited around for a while then, two men dressed in dark coveralls showed up and took Mr. Giltman out to a large dump truck. The men placed Mr. Giltman in a bucket which was attached to a hydraulic lift at the back of the truck. The lift raised the bucket up and then dumped Mr. Giltman into the back of the truck. It was like watching a garbage truck dump a dumpster.

The two men dressed in dark coveralls climbed into their truck and sped off with me close behind them. They had driven about ten miles out of town when they suddenly turned into a factory. There was a sign in front of the factory which read “The Potted Meat Byproducts Corporation”. The men backed their truck up to a large shoot and dumped the contents. They pulled their truck out away from the shoot and then parked it in front of the factory. I parked my car and got out. I was about ready to go into the back of the building to follow the path of the shoot when suddenly one of the men shouted “Hey fella! Are you following us?”

“Yeah, I guess you caught me,” I replied.

Then the one guy said “We noticed you following us a ways back. You know it’s close to lunch time so why don’t you come inside and try out our commissary. The food is free to employees and visitors.”

I decided that since I had been caught I had better comply with these guys. I figured that getting a free meal was better than being arrested for trespassing. I also figured that at least I’d get inside the factory and that I still had a chance to find out what Mr. Giltman wanted me to know.

The two guys waited for me to catch up with them so we all walked inside the building together. We crossed a large reception area and entered what appeared to be a large cafeteria. I followed my two new acquaintances up to a long food bar. We each grabbed a tray and some silverware then, we walked along the food bar picking up whatever we wanted to eat. There were rice dishes, tacos, pizza and macaroni items all made using potted meat products made right there at the factory. There were so many dishes that I commented that it would take a week to sample everything. One of the guys said” Don’t worry; you can come back here any time to eat. The reputation of our products is based largely on word of mouth so; just say good things about us. That’s all that we ask.”

These were really great guys. In addition, the food was really great too. I guess that what Mr. Giltman wanted me to find out was that The Meat Byproducts Company produced some really outstanding food. Of course not only is the food really good but, The Meat Byproducts Company practices good citizenship by volunteering to dispose of the bodies of people who can’t afford the expense of either burial or cremation. I was also informed that on the other side of the building The Meat Byproducts Company also disposed of road kill found along area roadways thus, helping to keep Northern Michigan looking beautiful for visitors and locals alike.

NORTHERN MICHIGAN INTERNATIONAL CRICKET CHAMPIONSHIP

By Ted Colin
Each year the Northern Michigan International Cricket Championship draws people from all over the world. We have people come from places as far away as Grawn, Fife Lake and, Mancelona. Many of the people who show up each year speak different languages and have very different customs. For instance, many people who attend these games can’t understand why we have pay toilets when the competition takes place in the woods. Personally, I really can’t understand the pay toilet deal myself. Especially, since the pay toilets only take $5.00 bills. I put in a $10.00 bill and I didn’t get any change back. I guess I won’t be buying any more pop from the concessions stands since it costs more for the pop going out than going in.

Well, although there are many differences between the teams and spectators at this year’s cricket event there is one overriding factor that brings everyone together: we all love watching those little critters duke it out in the ring. The main ring this year is an old hula hoop I found out behind one of the pay toilets. It looks like a car ran over it but, it is still holding together well enough to be used as the main ring. The other rings are just drawn in the sand.

Now before you can compete in a cricket match you have to find a cricket. The best way to find a cricket is to leave your front door wide open for a couple of days. Sooner or later out of all of the bugs, animals or looters that comes into your house there is bound to be at least one cricket. Of course getting a cricket into your house is just the first step in catching one.

In order to catch a cricket you have to stay up real late and get really, really tired. Then, when you turn off the lights and try to go to bed the cricket will start chirping so loud that you will rise up like a zombie from the dead but, instead of yearning to eat brains like a zombie the only thing you will yearn to do is get a hold of that cricket. Of course the cricket creature itself has the ability of a ventriloquist in that it can throw its voice to any place in the entire house. It is almost like the cricket just sits and watches you as you look all around under furniture and in closets, in the close hamper and behind the washer and dryer. Sometimes you just want to yank out the gas stove even though it has a gas line hooked to it. You are so tired and desperate for sleep you just don’t care anymore. After a while you can almost hear him laughing when he sees you about to find his hiding spot and then the cricket suddenly stops chirping. Then, you just stand there waiting for the creature to start chirping again hoping beyond all hope that you can find the little monster and get him to stop his hideous sounds so you can finally get some sleep. Of course he doesn’t start up again until you’ve turned off the lights and climbed back into bed.

Eventually, the cricket will make a mistake and you will catch him mulling around in the shower or just outside of the refrigerator. Now although the temptation to get revenge upon the cricket for keeping you up all night is strong, it is important that you keep a cool head about you and try to capture the little beast without harming it. After all, a squished bug is not going to win the cricket boxing tournament for you. And, if you accidentally rip off its forearms then he will be disqualified because the bug will no longer be able to wear the tiny boxing gloves that are mandatory in the sport of competitive cricket.

Now, once you have your cricket you have to put him through a vigorous training program which includes getting your bug to bulk up. Lots of sugar water is a good start to any weight gaining strategy whether it is for humans or bugs. Most people train their crickets to box by at first placing a tiny little mirror in front of the bug in order to get his competitive juices flowing. Then, placing live crickets with your potential champion in a confined area like a shoe box will be all you need to do to hone those talents that are the stuff that all champion bugs have pent up deep within their souls. By the time of the big match-up your bug will be in complete harmony with the universe and he will have the loving spirit of a dolly lamb. At that moment your cricket will be able to rip the exoskeleton off his competition.

This years champion was named “Killer Bug”. Now Killer B. was not the actual last bug left with its insides in tacked. The last bug left was Spider Snyder but Spider S. was disqualified when the officials realized the he really was a spider and therefore was not really eligible to compete against crickets. The rules might have been bent a little if Spider Snyder happened to be a grasshopper or even a fly but, spiders are not even insects; they are arachnids. The officials just decided that an arachnid fighting an insect just was not a fair fight so Killer B. won this years championship posthumously since Spider Snyder had already devoured Killer B. Hopefully next year the officials will be more on the ball and disqualify non-species entries before they are allowed to compete in the cricket matches.

At the end of the competition everyone gets to go to the root beer tent and enjoy batter dipped and fried crickets. To my knowledge cricket fighting is still legal in Michigan but then again, my brother Tim got two years probation when he was a kid for squeezing a grasshopper until it spit up tobacco juice.

FLYING FACE SLAPPING CARP INVADES MICHIGAN

Lake Michigan and other inland lakes are prone to sudden and horrific storms which can sink or capsize a canoe or a giant tanker. Once in the water many boaters succumb to sharks, rattle snakes or, the infamous piranha toothed yellow bellied perch. According to the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) an even more insidious creature has now invaded Michigan waterways. This creature is known as the Giant Flying Face Slapping Chinese Zombie Carp or GFFSCZC for short. Since you can only pronounce GFFSCZC as an acronym if you are from Eastern Europe, we will simply call these creatures by their scientific name, Brainious Deadious Slapious Crapious (carp is an anagram for crap) or by their even shorter scientific nickname, Slapcrapper.

The slapcrapper came into Michigan via the Mississippi network of rivers. It is thought to be a hybrid mix of piranha, tiger shark, and common Chinese gold fish and, the flying brain eating zombie squirrel of North and Central America. It is obvious that only the government working in conjunction with some kind of evil aliens from outer space or some alternative universe could have created such an onerous slap happy ,brain eating creature.

According to DNR biologist Dr. Justin Sane, the slapcrapper is the cause of several injuries in and around Michigan waterways. Dr. Justin Sane described the attacks of the slapcrapper as “unpredictable and horrific”. Dr. Sane said that, “the slapcrapper waits for an unsuspecting fishing boat to go by and then, the slapcrapper will leap from the water and slap with his tail an unsuspecting fisherman on the side of the head. The slap will usually result in a quantity of brains being knocked out of the ear of the fisherman upon which the slapcrapper and his friends will feed. Although most fishermen can loose up to 90% of their brains before they notice any mental impairment overtime, if slapped enough, the fisherman could be reduced in mental ability to the point that they have to give up the sport of fishing and take up a more mundane sport like water skiing.”