When The Earth Shakes II

When the Earth Shakes

part II
(link to part I)

“I don’t know where,” shot back Crimp, exasperated.
“You can’t just order a strike for nowhere,” replied Henry, starting to become annoyed.
“I know, smartass. How about a pickup at the corner of Oak Street and Lexington Ave, then?”
“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll be maybe three minutes.”
“Come on. You can do two; it’s urgent.” said Crimp. He hopped a fence to the right and ran to the front of the house, which was three buildings to the left of his own abode. The fence he had hopped was riddled with holes a moment later.
Crimp chuckled, knowing that the soldier was wasting his time trying to shoot the fence instead of pursuing him. He was already twenty yards away.
Not far up ahead, the houses turned into stores, and there was an opening to the building’s alleyway directly before the first storefront. Crimp saw the Snipa soldier coming around the front of the house just as he made it to the storefront. They both fired at each other and missed.
An instant later Crimp was behind the buildings, sprinting on. As he nearly came out the other end, the leader heard the running of the soldier not far behind him. As the other man aimed his rifle, Crimp shot at him and struck him in the arm. It knocked the man’s aim off for long enough for the Shank’s leader to turn left onto the busy sidewalk.
Only fifty yards away was the intersection were he was supposed to get picked up. Crimp booked it, using surprised strangers as cover so that he would be more difficult to spot. He saw Henry’s car off in the distance, driving as quickly as it could towards the intersection.
Behind him, a rifle roared, gunning down some of the people in between the Snipa ganger and Crimp. Crimp looked backwards and tried to get a shot off but couldn’t see what he was shooting at. The car screeched to a stop in front of the leader, but instead of getting in, he ran past and ducked behind it. Rifle bullets tore up the top left side of the car but did not hit anything important. They stopped coming suddenly.
“He needs to reload,” thought Crimp optimistically. He moved from behind his cover, aimed carefully and delivered two shots, dropping the other man. Crimp opened the door and ducked into the back seat of the car. They sped off quickly, burning rubber.
Crimp breathed heavily, and Henry chuckled, knowing why.
“That’s somethin’ ain’t it?” he said. Crimp was about to reply but only chuckled himself, letting off some steam. Henry had curly hair and was quite young, but smart. He had become disillusioned with the world and felt he didn’t have anything better to do than to join the Shanks.
As they kept driving down the road, Crimp had a bad feeling.
“And here’s the police,” observed Henry, all of a sudden. The cherries and berries flashed in their rear view mirror. Henry hammered the gas, went right between two cars, overtook them, and got onto the highway which was just ahead.
The police car was five seconds behind them. As soon as they were on an open stretch of highway, they saw the police car entering onto it as well. It was slightly faster than their own vehicle.
“Too bad they appropriated the military budget to the police,” complained Crimp.
“I guess,” said Henry.
Henry pressed a jury-rigged button which let out a pound of large jacks onto the road. Crimp looked back and saw the police car spinning out, with two flat tires.
“Didn’t take long, did it?” asked the leader. His associate nodded knowingly. They took the next exit and headed back towards Henry’s house, which wasn’t far from Crimp’s devastated building.
“I think we need to double down on the search for their boss. They probably have a big bunker somewhere or something similar.”
“S does?” asked Henry.
“Yep. We have to try harder. Tell your comrades to forget about the laws, use satellite imagery, increase radio and internet monitoring, outsource the labor if they have to, and tell them to comb over all the media reports, even from the little newspapers. Especially from them.”
“Good,” replied Henry. “I can’t remember more than three things at once, though.”
“We’ll be dealing with it soon anyways, so don’t worry about remembering every little thing. We can stay at your place for a moment, but I should get to my second house eventually.”
“The one that’s almost out in the country?” asked Henry, who had only vaguely heard about it.
“Yep,” said Crimp. “That one.”
The car stopped and the two men went inside. The leader loaded his revolver and Henry gave some orders over his radio.
It distressed Crimp slightly that the house had no bunker and didn’t even have reinforcing armor. But it was still better than the alternative; being out in the open.
“I can’t believe the repair company was in on it too,” said Crimp, frustrated. “Do the Snipas own everything?”
“Practically. Everything except what we own.” They looked out the window and saw a police car at a faraway intersection, racing towards where the first one had been, on the highway.
“Do you think anyone’s unaffiliated?”
“Not really, except the newest businesses we don’t have time to deal with.”
“I wonder if we can get the cops on our side,” remarked Crimp.
“Nah, some of ’em are already with the enemy and the others won’t budge. They love their job.”
“Yeah, it was a stupid idea,” agreed the boss. “Well, now that I have no assistant anymore, would you like to be one? Two hundred dollars a day, free food and lodging…”
“Hmm. Sure,” replied Henry, “let me just get some things together. Do you have a radio there?”
“Nope,” said Crimp. Silently, Henry seemed disapproving.
A few minutes later the two were on the road again. When they reached the property, Henry could hardly believe it. The house was just a tiny square. It faced the road directly, at the end of a dead end. Behind it was only wilderness.
“We’re really out there now. Why is this place so small?” laughed the assistant, unable to take it seriously.
“Because it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
They walked inside and ignored the top two rooms. To the left were two stairs and a heavy metal door. Crimp unlocked a lock on the wall and the door slowly slid to the right. There was gigantic bunker underneath, two or three times larger than the rest of the house, but it was just a single long room.
At the back of the bunker, lights illuminating it dramatically, was a huge milsurp machine gun with armor plating all around, particularly for the firer. It was a modified Navy cannon.
“Is that a 50-cal?” asked Henry. “It’s nice.”
“Nope,” replied Crimp.
“40mm?” pressed Henry.
“Nope. 76mm.”
Henry’s jaw dropped.
“And the whole section of the floor it’s on can raise to the ground level if you hit that switch. Don’t forget the earmuffs.” They were hanging on the top of the armor plating.
On the wall a few feet away was a pair of portable revolving grenade launchers.
“The one on the top is loaded with anti-tank rounds,” said Crimp. Henry raised his eyebrows.
“I suppose this place isn’t so horrible.”
After the tour, the pair set up Henry’s relocated radio. It took awhile, and they ran into some unforeseen technical difficulties, but were eventually successful.
As soon as the radio was running, Crimp messaged some of his contacts and got the word that good progress was being made in the search. They had the base locations narrowed down to just five.
“At the risk of being overly optimistic, I think this might work,” said Crimp.
They watched a sniper on the rooftops over one of the screens, but he merely waited there, seeming to have nothing to shoot.
“All units, avoid 118th ave and Chestnut Street,” he radioed. Someone replied that they were on their way there.
“That was a close one,” sighed Crimp. “They move somewhere different every day.”
“So how’s Susie?” asked Henry.
“Good. I last talked to her yesterday. It seems such a long time ago now, but I suppose it isn’t actually.”
“You like the blondes, don’t you?” asked Henry. Crimp nodded slightly.
“So why do you not have a radio but you still have all your screens here?”
“Money,” replied Crimp.
“I thought money’s no object for you!”
“That’s only what they say on TV.” Crimp winked. For the rest of the day, the Shanks associates worked like horses to find the base.
Early the next morning, Crimp woke Henry up and they started the day’s work. It did not take long before Crimp received a radio report stating that they had probably located the enemy base. It was a primarily-underground building that would take a lot of armament to damage, but it seemed to be the most likely candidate for the enemy HQ.
Just before the boss was about to authorize a strike, though, he received a text message from an unknown number. Warily, Crimp picked up his phone and read it.
Don’t even try to blow up the base; you’ll regret it.
Yours truly,

“What the hell is this?” raged the leader, showing the message to his comrade.
Henry shrugged his shoulders.
“Perhaps they’re afraid of you, finally, after they failed with those last soldiers.”
“S actually knows my phone number?” said Crimp, exasperated. “I bought this phone explicitly because it would be hard to track.” He worked himself up to a bit of a rage.
“Did you not call the repair shop with it? Of course they know. Why doesn’t your assistant do these calls? I’m sure they have your voice profile.”
“But the only time I was on TV, they lowered my voice fifty percent,” argued Crimp.
Henry laughed, as he was more of a technophile than the boss.
“All you do is raise it back up fifty percent, and bingo.”
“Uggh. I’m sick of this.”
A message came in from the radio, changing Crimp’s attention.
“This is Blaise. Eighty percent chance that the location is correct. Also, we may have found a weak spot in the fortification. What are your orders, C?”
Crimp thought about it for a moment. Perhaps S was right that he would regret blowing the building up, or maybe he was just fooling the Shanks yet again. Either way, although Crimp couldn’t easily think of what could go wrong if they shot the base up, he knew something unforeseen might happen, and that could have bad consequences.
In a rare moment of indecisiveness, he asked for advice.
“What should I do?”
“Shoot ’em,” replied Henry, simply.
A moment later, Crimp slowly nodded his head and spoke into the microphone. He called his two friends with large cannons.
“We’ll need to use everything we have. Fire,” he said to the first.
On the other side of the radio sounded explosion after explosion. It went on for ten seconds straight. After that, he called the second one and the same events proceeded.
“Whoo!” yelled Henry. Crimp looked happy as well.
“I just wish we could see how well it worked,” the boss said, a tiny bit reserved. “I don’t even have cameras that show that area from far away. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”
Crimp made a weird expression and cocked his head. A very far-away rumbling noise sounded outside. Crimp immediately ran to the ground level and looked out the window. Almost a mile away, driving on the road as if it were a normal vehicle, a tank was coming towards them. There were five armored personnel carriers driving behind it, slowly overtaking the lumbering machine.
“Oh no,” said Crimp, desperation in his voice. He ran back to the radio and hurriedly put in calls for a strike at the intersection closest to his house.
“We’re out of ammo, we need to reload,” were the replies.
“Damn it all!” yelled the boss. “How did they find us?”
“They must have triangulated your position from the radio calls,” said Henry. “They were pretty obvious. Or maybe they found out what my car looks like from the police who chased us and found it with a satellite overnight. Or maybe-”
“Stop it,” said Crimp, ashamed. After a moment, he gave a command. “Be useful; go shoot them,”
They couldn’t use the machine gun as the rest of the house was currently blocking their line-of-sight, but it was possible to at least use the grenade launcher.
“I have to stay here and radio,” said Crimp, running over to the shelf and throwing the top weapon to his assistant. Crimp returned to the radio while Henry went upstairs and opened up a little gap in the front wall that was specially-made for such circumstances. It was just big enough to poke the barrel of the grenade launcher through.
Pink! Pink! Pink! went the firearm. The projectiles sailed through the air at a high angle and one missed, one glanced the tank, and another damaged a personnel carrier.
Henry shot three more times. He focused all his efforts on the APC’s this time, destroying a pair of them. There were only two APCs left.
“I need more ammo!” yelled Henry. A gigantic thundering sound was made and the corner of the top section of the house was decimated. Henry ran back to the basement, terrified.
“It was the tank, wasn’t it?” said Crimp.
“Yeah,” replied Henry.
“Are you alright?” asked Crimp, eyes focused on the radio.
“I guess,” he said feverishly, picking up the second grenade launcher. The tank fired at the house again, shaking its foundations and destroying the roof.
“I can’t go up there!” said Henry, breaking down.
“Shh,” said Crimp, busy with communications.
“Did you say you’ve reloaded?” he asked over the radio.
“Great. Fire at the Columbia intersection. Now!” said Crimp.
Another tank shell tore up the house, collapsing it on top of the bunker entrance way. There was only one way out now.
Crimp heard the firing of his artillery far away and hoped it had been on target.
“Get up there!” said Crimp, pointing towards the 76mm cannon. Henry ran up and manned the gun. Crimp pressed the elevator button and then joined Henry. Slowly, the floor began to move upwards and the two roof sections split apart, opening the gun platform to ground level. The daylight poured in more and more every inch they went up.
“Let’s hope the strike got them all,” said Crimp, pressing a button which readied the cannon for firing. Since the house was so decimated, they could see some of the enemies up ahead. A piece of the house was still in the way, though.
Henry and Crimp put the earmuffs on. Crimp controlled the cannon and swiveled it to the left.
“Fire in the hole!” said Crimp. The cannon exploded, sending a huge shell through the house, collapsing it further.
“Well, now we can see,” commented the boss. Five hundred yards ahead, troops poured out of an APC. They could see that the artillery strike had demolished the other APC. The tank was still there.
“Damn!” said Crimp, adjusting the controls to point the cannon at the tank. He was angry at the aim of his associates.
He fired, and a huge cloud of smoke poured out of the barrel of the cannon as it shook from the explosion. The shot struck the tank on one of its tracks.
It seemed that the tank was immobilized but still functional.
A few soldiers started to fire their small arms at them.
They heard a thundering sound as a shell from the tank struck the ground right in front of the cannon, shaking everything and kicking up a giant cloud of dirt. The two men coughed and were unable to see anything. Crimp blindly adjusted the aim slightly.
“It’s now or never,” he said.
The boss pressed the fire button and the cannon went off again. They could not tell if it was a hit or not.
In the interim, a tank shell tore into the side of their cannon, sending a giant piece of metal flying off in the distance. Shrapnel from the impact flew off in different directions.
“Oww!” screamed Henry, grabbing his leg.
The haze started to clear up and Crimp noticed their aim had been slightly wide. He adjusted and shot again.
It was a direct hit. The enemy tank exploded in a crimson and ash blast.
“Finally!” said the leader. A few rifle rounds bounced off the armor and Crimp kept his head down more.
“My leg…” said Henry. It was bleeding from shrapnel.
Crimp took Henry’s grenade launcher and shot in an arc from behind the armor, taking out a few soldiers. Henry manned the artillery controls and nearly missed but took out one more Snipa. By the time Crimp was out of ammo, there was only one man left.
“Should we?” he asked. They watched the man run backwards, away from the fight.
“With the 76mm?” asked Henry. “No.”
“You’re right,” conceded Crimp.
Crimp took his shirt off and hastily bandaged up Henry’s leg with it.
“You’ll be alright, but you need to go to the hospital.”
“I can’t really walk,” replied the assistant.
“Lean on me,” said Crimp. Henry got off the platform and Crimp pressed the button sending the artillery back into the ground. Slowly, they made their way back to the car and Crimp took the wheel. They sped off to the hospital, making sure to avoid the road where the lone soldier was definitely still running away.
As they drove, Henry called for the hospital to ready a stretcher in front of the building.
Five minutes later, Crimp and Henry arrived and the nurses put the wounded assistant on a stretcher and wheeled him to the lobby and then the emergency room.
Crimp found an actual place to park, rested for a few minutes, then decided he should see how his friend was doing. The walk to the front of the building felt so normal that it almost made him nervous. For once, he found himself unworried about his rivals. The shock from the recent past had not totally cleared up, but he felt better overall. When he went inside, Crimp noticed a policeman eyeing him from behind the counter. He waited until the cop left and then asked a receptionist, under a false name, where Henry was. The leader walked there and stayed outside the surgery area while the doctors finished extracting a few bits of steel from Henry’s leg.
Crimp used the downtime to calm down, rest, read, and eat five crullers from Tim Horton’s.
He kept in contact with his associates through his phone. It sounded like the enemy was greatly weakened. They found little activity during the next two hours.
Before long, Henry was in a recovery room upstairs. Crimp sat next to him.
“So how did it go?” asked Crimp, wanting his opinion on the recent events.
“As good as it could have, except for your lousy timing with the artillery strike.”
“It’s not my fault,” said Crimp, offended. “I always time them perfectly. I know how long everything takes to make it work. The problem was that they didn’t have precise enough coordinates. I told Jimmy last month to map the streets everywhere out to seven decimal points, but he probably only did five. Lazy shmuck.” Crimp shook his head.
Henry laughed.
“Well, there’s not much going on anymore. They only found one sniper lately.”
“Yeah,” said Henry. “What are you gonna do now, see someone you know?” He winked.
“Susie?” asked Crimp, surprised.
There was a knock on the door. Forgetting The Rules for a moment, Crimp walked over and opened it.
“Speak of the devil,” he said. An attractive blonde woman with a handbag and a red dress stood there, looking at him. Henry laughed to himself, loud enough for Crimp to hear him.
“How are you, girl? Nice to see you,” said Crimp politely. She undercut the formality quickly.
“S told you that you would regret that decision,” she said, in a biting tone.
“What do you mean? It worked out in the end.” Crimp began to be slightly nervous, and his positive expression faded. Henry stared from ten feet away.
“It worked out for you,” she shot back.
“Do you want me to see you more, or have they bought you off, just like everyone else?”
“Not necessarily,” she replied. “I’m just done with the explosions and the war, and I want to live normally. This is the easiest way of making peace,” she said, quietly. Crimp shook his head hopelessly.
“So what are you here for, then?”
She looked right into his eyes. It was hard to tell what either of them were thinking.
Silently, Susie extracted a pistol from her purse and brought it to Crimp’s head.



When the Earth Shakes

When the Earth Shakes

part I

Jacob Prisgrim pressed of a hundred buttons on his remote and the television set flicked on. A blonde newscaster reported the story, not in a typical canned reporter’s tone, but with a hint of haste and genuine apprehension.
“In national news, the Supreme Court of the United States of America has ruled that the Second Amendment of the constitution is an ‘Unlimited and Inviolable Right’, and cannot be subject to change, the end result of the ongoing Davison vs. Picketts case,” she said.
That same piece of news had been repeated with the same urgency throughout the entire day.

— — — — —

A year later, things had changed.
Off in the distance, an earth-shaking, full sound boomed. The china in the cabinet rattled and the floor vibrated beneath people’s feet. Mr. Prisgrim sat on an old chair in his living room.
“There it is again, that infernal blasting,” he muttered under his breath. When the noise was over, he threw his coat on and walked out to the car. The engine puttered as he pulled out onto the main road. A few minutes down his side street lay the battered foundations of a house. His neighbor knew who used to live there. They had talked about the event several times since then.
“There it is, where the Forrests used to live. Why do the gangs around here have such bad aim?” complained the man. He kept on driving, with a bit of an empty feeling inside.
At the grocery store, a television by the counter showed another similarly decimated house which belonged to a low-ranking gangster in the Snipas gang. A voice droned on and on about how he had upset the adjacent criminal group The Shanks in some way, and how he had been killed by an artillery blast just one day later. A helicopter fluttered over the scene, recording the blackened remnants of wood, plastic, and the huge crater swallowing up most of the property and even some of the next house’s yard.
Evidently the neighbor of the gangster was going to try to sue someone to recover the money from her destroyed orchids.
Mr. Prisgrim humphed and frowned.
On another channel, the territory wars were being made into a reality show called Shanks vs. Snipas. It already was the second most-watched show on the air.

— — — — —

On the other side of the city, in one of several normal-looking but extremely fortified houses that he owned, sat the man known only as Crimp. He wore a tuxedo, taking his job as leader seriously. His hair was black, and gelled backwards, except on days where he didn’t do much. Those days were getting fewer and fewer.
Times had changed.
This wasn’t like a gang from five years ago; Crimp and his enemies were professionals.
More than a dozen monitors lined the wall, each showing the view from a different hidden camera around the city. On the table in front of him sat a HAM radio, which would give off security updates around three times a minute. He sat in a cheap chair; the only object in the room without the high-quality aesthetic of it.
From time to time, Crimp took a sip of extra old cognac. At times he simply drank Serbian mineral water.
Chore though it was, he enjoyed his time in his basement bunker. Aside from having persistent worrying thoughts of snipers, he felt nearly at peace.
“Damn, I’m late,” he whispered, turning on his swivel microphone and talking into it.
“This is alpha beta kilo x-ray kilo,” he repeated twice.
“10-4,” replied another voice, muffled slightly by static.
“What’s the word?” asked Crimp.
“Noodles,” replied the voice.
“10-4. Have you checked Highway 28, and made sure Maggonicelli’s has paid their tax?” inquired Crimp.
“Affirmative,” was the reply. “Twenty-four hundred for the month.”
“Perfect. Keep it up and you might get promoted. Alpha beta kilo x-ray kilo over and out.”
He turned the microphone off, but only a second later another voice was already coming in.
“Is this alpha beta kilo x-ray kilo?” it asked.
“What’s the word?” asked Crimp, in a serious tone.
“Affirmative,” said Crimp. After a polite pause the informant continued, copying the tones used by police on their radios.
“I have a tangent on Highway 87 heading northwards towards the Highway 28 intersection on the south side.”
“A Snipa?” asked Crimp, forgetting his clandestine protocol for a moment.
“Affirmative. Sausage. In about two minutes the tangent will be at the H-28 intersection.” The voice couldn’t help but sound slightly awkward for the first half of the sentence.
“Perfect. Lat and long?” asked the leader.
“41.8369° North, 87.6847° West. I repeat. Red hatchback, right lane.”
“Is there other traffic on the road?” asked Crimp.
“Not much,” replied the voice.
“Good.” He smirked. “We should avoid extra damages since what happened in September,” said Crimp.
“10-4. Good idea, C. Over and out.”
The boss repeated the coordinates to an associate a mile out of town who had a heavy artillery piece surrounded by a huge foam box to muffle the noise. Crimp observed the screen showing the relevant intersection and waited. The moments passed uncomfortably by before, at last, the car appeared, slowing to a stop at the intersection. It looked expensive.
The boss knew that this was the moment for action.
“Fire,” ordered Crimp. He heard the explosion a moment later through the other side of the radio. Three seconds later, the blast rocked the surveillance camera, suddenly sending the vehicle to a many-pieced end. There was little peripheral damage. The execution was perfect.
Crimp smiled, although he wished someone was there to see him. The adrenaline coursed through his veins as he watched police arrive at the scene in their huge armored vehicles. Three-quarters of the police force was now armored, the rest being reserved for pursuit.
A tank armed with a four-inch cannon even showed up for backup. Nobody found the Shank’s security camera. Their cover was intact.
Crimp grinned to himself, pleased at the result.
A few minutes later, he saw one of his highest-ranking group members on the screen. He was the second-in-command, and the most probable to take over if Crimp’s home defenses were breached.
“Joe,” Crimp said to himself. The man walked on the sidewalk towards the camera, which was mounted around the second story of a nearby building. He smiled at the camera and waved. Crimp nodded his head, appreciating the attention. He felt nearly warm for a second.
Joe’s head exploded and he fell to the ground, bleeding all over the sidewalk.
The boss took the sight in, unbelieving.
“Damn!” yelled Crimp, throwing his cup and a clipboard from his desk. The cup damaged a portion of his radio, making him even angrier.
“Goddamned snipas!” he screamed, throwing his chair in the opposite direction.
Bought from Ikea and made in China, it shattered when it hit the ground.
Crimp collapsed, hopeless.
“Why can’t I be as precise as them? It seems like as soon as I make one good move, they outclass me.” He knew they were called Snipas for a reason.
The life drained out of him as the gang leader lay on the ground. He felt slightly like his late friend Joe.
“My only benefit is all this huge artillery, but sometimes it feels useless compared to the tools they use… It’s like they’re ghosts; they know where all my cameras are, they use decoy houses and use decoy vehicles, hidden snipers…” Despite the ideas Crimp had stolen from them, they were always coming up with new, increasingly diabolical schemes.
“I bet that car wasn’t even the real one.” Negativity overwhelmed him. He had no good reason to think the car was fake, though, beyond gut suspicion.
“First it was Karl, then Morris, then Joe. I can’t take another one.”
He thought about calling on the radio to broaden and intensify the search for the enemy headquarters, but he would need to fix the radio equipment first. He brought his fist down on the floor, enjoying the satisfying feeling when it connected.
It wouldn’t take long for him to recover from the shock, though, for he had been in similar situations many times before.
Crimp took out his phone, an old but durable model. At least it didn’t spy on him like the new ones. He dialed and it ringed for a while.
“Is this E-Z Repairs?” he asked, in his regular tone of voice.
“Yes,” replied the man on the other end.
“I’m looking to repair a HAM radio, quite urgently,” he replied.
“What’s your name?”
“Umm… Frank.”
“Just give me a minute,” said the repairman. There was silence for an unusually long amount of time.
“Okay, what do you need?” he said, with extra vigor.
“Just a replacement for a transmitter part.”
At the end of the call, Crimp got up and opened the solid metal door to the ground level of the house. He made sure he had some extra bribe money for the repairman in his wallet so he wouldn’t tell anyone the unusual nature of the house. Still, something in him felt uneasy. His personal assistant was waiting upstairs.
“Louie, would you mind answering the door when the repairman shows up?” asked Crimp.
“No problem,” he replied. Louie was not an old-fashioned butler, but a typical semi-casual man who had knowledge of a vast variety of modern things. Crimp handed him three hundred dollars and left the room.
The leader waited in his bedroom in the top floor. There was a desk next to the bedroom door with one large drawer.
He looked out the window facing the backyard. It was made of three panes of bulletproof glass. He opened up the steel locking mechanism and felt the wind through his hair.
Someone knocked at the front door, so Crimp laid down by the top of the staircase so he could catch a small glimpse of what was going on. Louie answered the door and spoke with the repairman for a moment. They walked towards the bunker entryway and left Crimp’s sight.
The leader heard the repairman call up someone on his phone and say something like “Yeah, you can come.”
That’s when the mayhem started.
A few moments later, Crimp saw several armed and armored men rush through the front door and into the bunker.
“Shit,” he said, running to his desk, opening the drawer, and frantically pulling out a smoke grenade and an MP5.
There was a gunshot, evidently from the armed men and not from Louie as he had not been armed. Crimp sighed. This had been the third downed personal assistant in the last three months.
That’s why their salary was so high.
Crimp pulled the pin on the grenade and threw it down the stairs. It sent out clouds of whitish smoke. He threw his desk down there as well to trip them up.
Knowing their methods, Crimp supposed the Snipas would have scoured the whole house for him in a few moments even if he had not shown any evidence of his presence. They knew, at least vaguely, what he looked like, and it wasn’t at all like Louie.
The leader dropped his submachine gun out the window and it fell two feet onto the roof. An instant later, he went out with it, grabbing it again as it slowly slid downwards.
The neighbor’s roof was ten feet away from the edge of his own but much lower. He ran as quickly as he could and made the jump, but crashed with so much force into the second roof that he had to let go of his weapon. He just managed to be securely on the roof and avoid the threat of falling off himself.
“No!” he said as the gun fell twenty feet to the ground. He started to scramble to the peak of the neighbor’s roof.
To make matters worse, the Snipas in his own house had made it through the defences and were looking through the window. They saw Crimp and started shooting just as he disappeared beyond the apex of the second rooftop.
As most of the fire was directed towards the northern end of the roof, Crimp ran, low to the ground, to the southern end, and pulled his magnum snubnose revolver out from its concealment holster. Crimp popped out from behind the cover and saw one man firing his assault rifle from the open window. The shots ripped apart the other side of the roof.
The boss aimed the revolver sights carefully and took out the Snipa with a loud bang.
“Good thing I chose such a huge gun,” said Crimp to himself as he jumped to the roof of the next house over. From there, he decided to drop down to the backyard. After making it to the fence, he entered the alleyway and started running from the remaining soldier.
The second man could not be far behind in his pursuit.
Crimp took his phone out and called up his second-in-command, although he had been the third until a few minutes before, when Joe was shot.
“Hey Henry, it’s C. What’s the word?”
“Noodles,” replied Henry.
“Great,” said Crimp, still running, revolver in one hand. “Listen, Henry, it’s an emergency. Louie is dead and my location is compromised.” Just as he said so, a gigantic shell slammed into Crimp’s house, destroying a piece of it.
The leader looked back and saw the second Snipa running out into the alleyway. He turned right and entered someone’s backyard as he opened fire.
“Okay… here’s your orders. Henry, I need a strike, now.”
“Where?” asked his friend, nervous.
Part II

The Magical Muscular Excursion (delirium part 3)

Book 2: The Magical Muscular Excursion

link to Delirium part 1 in case you want to read it first

magic man

Once upon a time, Magic Man felt like he should go to Norway, because there are lots of strange people in Norway, like him. So Magic Man went to the airport. People looked at him strangely as he walked by, which was normal considering he had six eyes, six ears, and six mouths. Magic Man was wearing a metal ring which he realized would set off the security scanner. When Magic Man went through the security scanner, he decided to cast a permanented spell on it so it wouldn’t notice the ring. “I make you dumb. You can’t notice anything anymore.” Magic man waved his hands around very stupidly, but dramatically. Unfortunately, a terrorist was right behind Magic Man in the line, and he easily brought his plane bomb right through that scanner, because the spell was permanented. So far, the terrorist’s day had gone very well. Once he got on the plane, Magic Man sat next to a hunter wearing camouflage. He looked bored. Magic Man started to converse with him. “Hey hunter dude, what did you get?” “Huh?” the hunter dude noticed him. “Oh. I just shot a coyote. I ate it after. I fried it up and it tasted pretty good.” replied the hunter. “Did you drill a hole through its head and pull out the brain, and yell I GOT A BRAIN!?” inquired Magic Man. “No.” The hunter rolled his eyes and drifted to sleep. Afterward, Magic Man twisted his head around to see which eye could get the best view of the ground from the sky. He got bored of that and then tried to figure out which of his ears had better hearing. When he was done with that, Magic Man realized that he was awesome at everything he did. Magic Man noticed that the hunter dude was pulling out a sketchbook. He started to draw a picture of an ATV. “Hey Hunter Dude? What is that?” asked Magic Man. “It’s my All-Terrain Vehicle.” replied the hunter dude, proud of it. Magic man continued to probe. “How do you draw?” “Umm, you use the pencil and scratch the paper and make marks.” “Where’s the draw?” inquired Magic Man. “What?” The hunter dude was starting to get annoyed. “How do you color draw?” “I’m not talking to you anymore.” said the hunter dude. Shortly, Muscle Man barged in. He started shouting. “I had to sit next to this fat man and I didn’t like it! He smelled like poop! Gross!” Suddenly, Muscle Man pulled out his Nintendo DS and started playing it. He banged the buttons loudly.

muscle man

“I got a point! Yes!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Hey, Magic Man! What have you been doing? I thought you were working at Populumama! What the heck happened?” “No. I’m going to Norway because of the magical mysteries.” replied Magic Man. “Weird. I’m going there because of the gyms! They have the heaviest weights in the world in Norway.” said Muscle Man. “Muscle Man, I have a question.” said Magic Man, seriously. “What is it?” “What are the things you can do?” replied Magic Man. “I don’t really know. You can go to the gym.” said Muscle Man. “You can hunt coyotes” butted in Hunter Dude. “You can also bomb planes!” shouted the terrorist from the back of the plane. He stood up. Magic Man giggled to himself. “What sorts of things can you eat?” asked Magic Man, curious. “Protein bars.” suggested Muscle Man, who never ate anything else. “Coyotes and deer.” said the hunter. “Halal hummus and flatbread. And also kheer and goat!” shouted the terrorist, from the back of the plane. “Hey hunter dude man.” Magic Man added. “What’s a razor?” Hunter Dude grumbled. “A razor is for shaving.” “Isn’t a razor some kind of race car? I thought it was.” replied Magic Man, very confused. “No.” “Then what’s a razor, actually?” asked Magic Man, again. “It can be different depending on what kind of razor you’re talking about.” answered the hunter dude. “Why are they different?” asked Magic Man. “Because people have different personalities, and they use different types of razors depending on them. Like girls use stupid pink razors and I use a straight razor.” said the hunter. “Aren’t there different types because people have different bodies?” asked Magic Man. “Not really.” replied Hunter Dude, getting annoyed. “What if a razor had sharp rotating blades to chop things?” said Magic Man out of the blue. He laughed. “And what if a razor was a knife?” he added. Suddenly, the plane speaker went on. “We will be flying over Scotland now. We are more than halfway done on the trip to Norway. Look at how pretty Scotland is if you feel like it.” “So Hunter Dude, you are Razor Dude. And Muscle Man, you’re Eraser Dude. You can erase anything, even Razor Dude.” explained Magic Man. “You’re Razor Dude because you talk about razors. And you’re Eraser Dude because you look like an eraser.” “Cool. That’s awesome.” said Eraser Dude. (who used to be Muscle Man) “Hmm.” Said Razor Dude. (previously Hunter Dude) Suddenly, the terrorist got up and yelled loudly. “I have a bomb and I will blow up this whole plane unless the flight attendants can give me a golden crown and a staff! I also want a golden pot of Turkish coffee, and some Halal hummus!” he screamed. People waited for a second, tensely. The captain spoke over the loudspeaker. “I’m sorry. We can’t do that. We don’t have Turkish coffee. But if you want American coffee, you can have as much as you want.” “Then the plane is going down!” shouted the terrorist, even louder than usual. The terrorist pressed the button on his jeans, and blew up the bomb. Right before the blast hit Magic Man, Eraser Dude saved him by grabbing Magic Man and jumping him out of the window. Eraser Dude grabbed him during the ensuing free fall. When they hit the ground, Eraser Dude’s muscles protected them both from the fall, but Eraser Dudes’ DS broke into five thousand and fifty-two pieces. Eraser dude cried. Razor Dude jumped out the plane following Eraser Dude and Magic Man, and expected to fall to his death. However, just like Magic Man had said, Eraser Dude could erase Razor Dude. So that was what he did. Right before Razor Dude hit the ground and splatted, Eraser Dude erased him into eternity so he didn’t have to die in pain. “Too bad Razor Dude is dead. He was fun.” said Magic Man, regretfully. “I wish we could give him a funeral, but since we erased him, it’s impossible.” replied Eraser Dude. “Now we’re in Scotland.” said Magic Man. Magic Man and Eraser Dude walked towards Edinburgh for a while. After a few minutes, Eraser Dude got sick of the countryside and started long-jumping huge, thirty-feet jumps as quickly as he could. Magically, Magic Man could keep up with Eraser Dude. After a few more minutes, the pair found an empty red car parked on a lonely country road. Eraser Dude jumped in the front seat, and waited. Magic Man hopped in beside him and casted a permanented spell to turn the car on. They took off at a blistering speed, burning rubber. “I don’t know how to drive” Eraser Dude admitted after a few minutes. “It’s easy. You’re supposed to speed. Don’t worry about the left and right. They don’t matter. Just go forward and speed.” answered Magic Man, helpfully. They drove on for a long time, then Eraser Man got tired and Magic Man took the wheel from the passenger’s seat. The seats were opposite, though, because of Scotland. He didn’t drive any better than Eraser Man. They started to come across small towns, since they were not totally in the country anymore. “You know, I could knock somebody down with an eraser.” said Eraser Man randomly. He took an eraser out of his pocket and shoved it into Magic Man’s face. “Oww!” screeched Magic Man, sounding like he was getting murdered. He waved his hands around furiously. At that moment, they blew past a red light in the small town they were driving in. Car horns beeped madly. Eraser Dude jammed the eraser up Magic Man’s nose. “I could suffocate someone with an eraser!” Eraser Dude stated proudly. Magic Man screamed like a dying dog. His face banged into the window repeatedly. Magic Man’s hands punched random parts of the car. He didn’t drive. The car suddenly crashed into a police car. When the cars stopped skidding, the policeman came up to the window. Smoke poured out of the radiator. “What happened? Why are you such a jerk? And why do you have six mouths?” asked the cop. “All the better to taste you with!” replied Magic Man, sticking out his tongues. “I’m fining you two thousand dollars for car damages.” You have to pay it in two weeks. Also, you have to go to prison if you taste a constable.” “Oh no!” said Magic Man. “I was a lot happier when all the cannibals were dead!” The policeman went back into his unscathed car and drove away. Then, Magic Man whispered secretly to Eraser Dude. “It was your fault, and now I have to get in trouble. How do you think I feel?” He was furious. However, since Magic Man could not be mad for very long, he jumped into the back seat and started crying in a depressed huddle. Eraser Dude discovered to his dismay that the car was broken. “This car won’t drive,” he said to Magic Man. “Shut up,” replied Magic Man. Eraser Dude punched the steering wheel, breaking it in half. He took the separate half and jammed it up Magic Man’s nose into his brain. “How does THIS feel, Magic Dude?” he shouted venomously. Magic Man went into a coma. Eraser dude started to sob when he realized what had just happened. He shook Magic Man, telling him to wake up. Just as all hope was lost, Eraser Dude glimpsed a button on the side of Magic Man’s head. He pressed it. Magic Man convulsed rapidly, and several small lighting bolts flew out of his body. “You found the reset button! I thought I would be dead forever. Thanks,” said Magic Man, back to normal. “Is that what it is?” asked Eraser Dude. “Cool.” Magic Man cast a permanented spell to make the radiator radiate. It would never stop, so the car could never be completely turned off in the future. After that, Eraser Dude drove on until they came into another town, then they came upon another intersection. They crashed into a car, again, because Eraser Man didn’t know where the brake was. The car broke down, and the bottom of the engine started to smoke. The two freaks walked out of the car and leaned on the trunk. The Scotsman who had gotten his car hit in the accident also got out of his car. He walked towards the place where Eraser Man was getting a breath of fresh air. “What do you think you were doing? You almost kilt me!” “I’m Eraser Man!” said Eraser Dude, pulling out his snotty eraser. The Scotsman grabbed it and ate it in one bite. “That’s what I think of you, you warty hog.” Magic Man interrupted. “Scottish people’s livers have an extra twist at the end because of all the weird things they eat.” “Shut up.” said the Scottish man. “Scottish people eat erasers and hearts. And livers, so their livers are extra huge.” replied Magic Man. “Lol.” “I said shut up!” replied the Scottish man, losing his temper. “Scottish people skin people so they’re not dead but they can’t let girls see them because you can see right through them and you can see their cajones.” said Magic Man, trying even harder than usual to be an annoying pain in the butt. “That’s what I’ll do to you two in a second.” The Scottish man said, pulling out a huge folding Bowie knife. He held it, eyes lighting up with fury. The man violently stabbed the huge knife into one of Magic Man’s eyes. “NOO!” said Magic Man, awkwardly holding his hands up like Lady Gaga. “That’s like a sword knife, though. Cool.” He snickered. The man was amazed Magic Man wasn’t dead, although he was bleeding. “Permanented spell!” shouted Magic Man. Suddenly, the Scottish man turned into a very imposing statue. Magic Man pulled the knife out of his eye. “Ouch!” he said. “I’m blind!” Magic Man fell over and bled more. Eraser Dude didn’t know first aid. “No you’re not blind.” said Eraser Dude. Magic Man died a few seconds later. Eraser Dude pressed the reset button, and after a minor seizure, Magic Man stood up again. “Okay. That’s true. I’m not blind.” replied Magic Man. “Let’s get out of here” said Eraser Dude. “Wait a second, Eraser Dude. You are Muscle Man now, because your eraser is gone. Now the eraser is in the statue of that sword knife guy.” “Okay.” replied Muscle Man. “Let’s go find the airport.” After that, they got on the plane to Norway. Muscle Man lifted 1500 pounds and Magic Man discovered some of the magical mysteries he had heard about. It was a nice trip. That’s what happened when Magic Man and Muscle Man went to Scotland and Norway, and it’s also how Magic Man lost two eyes and died and almost died again. At least until he changed the eye situation with a permanented spell.

The End.

GLSR news issue 3

JANUARY 15, 2012

Index: 1-7 South Republic 8–9 Groinland 10-11 Business 12 Obituaries 13-14 Letters and map


Word has come around that Goddanged Buper, who was previously being held in the Metro. Hospital has broken out! He sent a video to the South Republic and Edmonton saying he will be starting his own dictatorship close to Westview Village, and only 4 kilometres from the Republic and Groinland! He said in the video that only half of the citizens of the Dictatorship of Disguster were killed. (Previous estimates were that everyone in the country was murdered.”  Also, he said he will choose another mini-country to slaughter, but he didn’t say which Apparently, Goddanged has also recruited some evil thugs to be citizens in his country, with the current population in the Dictatorship estimated to be at about 80.

Hopefully we will not be massacred by the Edmonton police or the army. Mayor Braun said he will be implementing many changes to make sure the country is safe from both Edmonton, and the Dictatorship of Disguster. He also said he will be taking many steps to keep the country secure in this crisis. During a meeting with the Senate, he stated “We have to have more border guards and even a night watch now that there’s a good chance that the Dictatorship will be sending a whole army at us. I will make sure the border guards also have better guns. We will also have to make our borders tighter. Only citizens of Groinland with life certificates will be able to enter the Republic, because any others may be spies. It may be hard on the tourism industry, but that is the way we’ll have to go if we want to keep all our troops alive.”  Mayor Braun has also urged the public to buy guns or join the Army, because “Every soldier in the Army raises the chances of our staying independent from evil tyrants like Diguster and Goddanged Buper.”

The South Republic has not been noticed by the Canadian government, but there is a large chance we will be before long, now that Goddanged Buper has put out our name on the airwaves.


Bob’s Fun Club, a mini-country north of these two, has refused to ally with us even in the face of violence by the Dictatorship of Goddanged. Mayor Braun held an emergency meeting with Bob, but he declined to be an ally. “Allies are so useless and gross. WE don’t need allies. There’s already enough of us. If the Dictatorship of Goddanged even attempts to moider us, they’ll probably only send like 5 people.” Even though the Mayor corrected him, saying the Dictatorship is much more dangerous than Bob had said, he didn’t budge, saying “Nope. We have 27 members in our club! That’s enough to defend against the whole city of Edmonton if you ask me! And last week we made spears and knife-s for moidering things. I have an idea! How about we go there next week and kill all of THEM! I think that will be funness.”

Bobs fun club gathers every weekend to have fun and do primitive activities like fighting, hunting, gathering, games, and crafts. They are the only known mini-country not open all week, and also the one with the smallest population.


Senate:  Farmer //   Conservative //     U.C /     Liberal /        Moderate /

With the new votes just being counted, 3 of the 7 Senators are newcomers. The other 4 include 2 in the Farmer’s party, 1 in the Conservative Party, and 1 in the Moderate party. The new Senators are The Conserver, of the new Ultra-conservative party, Dogooder Hatfield, of the Liberal party, and Bob Boser, of the Farmer’s party. We have interviewed each of them.

What’s your opinion on being elected?   T.C= Honestly, I wasn’t too sure I’d be elected. But it seems like everyone wants to conserve things, so I got lucky. I think everyone will be surprised at how good I am at conserving our resources. DG.HF= It’s a good thing that everyone wants to restore life to what it should be like. Everyone deserves to have lots of money, but things don’t work out that way unless a Liberal like me is in office.  B.B= I’m happy all the farmers voted for me. I know what I’m doing, and I know how to farm. I’ll be a “people’s Senator,” and help everyone in their businesses, agricultural or otherwise.                                            What is the biggest problem in the country?    T.C= We are too wasteful! There are grossness landfills in our country, and we don’t use our resources correctly. I will help change that.  DG.HF= I think people like Rogey Richman are just too rich and they hold onto their money like it’s the end of the world. Then there’s those poor people in Barsboro that hardly have a dime. I’ll help redistribute the wealth and make sure everyone has enough.  B.B= That the people in office don’t know what they’re talking about and don’t have experience driving a tractor or running a farm. I know what I’m doing, and I’ll help, through legislation, everyone else that also knows what they’re doing. For the people that don’t, I’ll try to pass free agriculture lessons for the public.                                                                                                    What are you going to change?     T.C= I’m going to make the country more conservative and environmentally-friendly. I’ll try and get hybrid vehicles imported, and solar power and windmills for running appliances. If the world ends in 2012, we definitely do not want to say we helped it end!   DG.HF= Like I said before, I’ll help redistribute the wealth to make everyone happy.  B.B= I’ll get free agriculture lessons to the public, free-market bills passed, and try to get us more legal land to farm on.



Because of the national crisis on our hands, the Army has been looking for new recruits. They have decided to hold a lottery at the Senate to get more citizens up in arms. The price to join the lottery is a 4-month Army enlistment, but chances of winning are doubled if someone chooses a 10-month enlistment instead. The prizes are very interesting. Runner-up prizes (of which there are 10) include less time on duty, (3 months or 6 months if 10 was originally chosen) and a free subscription to GLSR newspaper for a year. Third prize is a custom Groinish gun like those the squad leaders carry. The second prize is $50 cash. First prize is ten acres of good farming land, legally owned by the Republic. About 30 people are expected to show up, but the real amount may be different. The lottery takes place noon on January 18. Lottery officials are not responsible for loss of life during military service.


The newfound Republic of Moist, in Whitemud Park, has been spied upon by an unknown rockman. The one and only policeman in the country, Nobe Nober, caught him and interrogated him. At first, the spy claimed he was “Just an innocent bystander!” However, later in the interview, he admitted he was a Canadian spy. Moist told Mayor Braun that he will have to relocate his country if more suspicious activity goes on there. It is unknown why the spy was spying, but it was probably to gauge if Moist is currently a threat to Canada. (which is very doubtful!) At the moment, the spy is tied to a tree and under surveillance by Nobe Nober. He will be released if he either promises not to tell anyone about Moist or if he becomes a citizen of Moist.


The president of Moist, Mr. Moist, sent Mayor Braun a message about national security that the Mayor decided to make public. It said “Our country, though far away from the Dictatorship of Goddanged, is endangered by it. I think it would be possible that the spy we caught will tell the Dictatorship about us, if he is released. The only defense our country has is one policeman with a knife. We are peaceful, but if attacked our only response could be to hide and hope we don’t get murdered. That’s why we need your help. If the Dictatorship attacks us, please remember our agreement. (10 litres of water a month for military protection) Good luck defending yourselves!“ (Edited by Mr. Matthew Carpenter)


A used HP computer has been imported from Canada to the Republic. This marks the first time an item this expensive has been bought for personal use. It will be sold to the richest rockman in the country, Rogey Richman.

GROINLAND   (by Groiniscous)


Since the newfound Dictatorship of Disguster has been established, changes have been implemented by Groinrich. They involve hiring another border guard and spending some of the president’s money on guns to sell at a discount ($10) to citizens. Mayor Braun confirmed he would help us in the case of an attack. I think we shouldn’t worry, though. We’ve got a militia of everyone in the country except Groin-maker, Busygroin, and President Groinchard, which is 64 rockmen! The President said today “If you see any suspicious activity, groin it and then tell me!”


A Groinish citizen who has accused President Groinrich of groining her has just been murdered. She was killed in the South Side of the town centre while taking a late-night stroll. Suspects are few, but an investigation has started. The murder weapon appears to be a knife or similar sharp object. If you have any information, talk to the Groin Police.



There has been some snow, but not as much as expected. Exporting has been modest. However, the tourism industry has been doing very well. Most of the national income, in fact, has been from tourism.

SNOW Some snow has been sold.
Selling: $.50/pound  Volume: 70
ICE There is little ice in the area, and few buyers.
Selling: $.90/pound Volume: 5
DRINKING WATER A Groinland entrepreneur named Busygroin has made his own water purifier with the help of his employee, Jack LeMon. Busygroin claims the machine can make water from snow to potable drinking water by using burnt garbage for fuel.
Selling: $.70/litre  Volume: 20
TIMBER Timber sales are essentially at a standstill due to legal disagreements between rockmen and landowners.
Selling: $1/ pound Volume: 2

-TOURISM Because of the pleasant weather, tourists have been a-plenty. Most of the national income has come from them.                                                                              Price $1-$10   Volume: 24
TOTAL ASSETS SOLD $220 since Jan 1 -BAUGHT- $189 since Jan 1


The South Republic has recently been experiencing a record number of tourists, considering it is winter! Each one is charged a dollar to enter into the Republic. After that, many support local businesses by buying memorabilia and trinkets at them. This is great for the economy, considering how volatile farming can be in profits. Hopefully, things will go on like this. I’m almost certain that if the Republic invented more unique food items and a signature style we’d get even more tourists.


Susano was murdered on the 13th of January. She will be cremated. Friends are invited to her funeral at the Groinish Church. “Oh my groin! That’s horrible she died! I thought she was so amazingness” – Her sister Susangroin “Whoever did it should be moidered and then groined!” -President Groinrich

Letters: “It’s a great inconvenience that the Edmonton police failed to permanently dispose of the Dictatorship of Disguster! I can hardly believe it rebuilt itself so fast. Now, it is an even more hazardous country. I am however pleased about our recent national security improvements. Maybe they will enable us to fight off the Dictatorship if they attack us” –Professor Colie

“It’s a good thing we made allies with the Republic of Moist. However, if they get attacked by the Dictatorship of Goddanged, we have no choice but to defend them! That will be very hard considering that they have no means of defending themselves and guns are banned there! I hope it doesn’t come down to that.” –Bark Gleason

“I was listen-inge to the radio and some weird O told me that he’s groining to murder all of us! And he said he was called Goddanged Buper. But he don’t know that I will groin his groin and then I’ll moider him and hiself if he attempts to do it to me! My country is the best one! I’ll defend it with my life! I’ll defend it with my groin!” -Groinasmarter

“I’m going to do it! I’m going to! Join them and become the same flesh and blood! Oh yes! Watch out, Groinland! I’m groining to help them moider you! Oh yes, I loooove Dictator Goddanged! He’s so goddanged! He’s such niceness! We’re groining to moider y’all!”            –Groinagroin


GLSR news issue 2

JANUARY 1, 2012

1-12 South Republic 13 Business 14 Groinland 15 Classifieds 16 Obituary 17 Letters



One of the newest mini-countries, the Dictatorship of Disguster, has been destroyed by the Edmonton police. All its citizens except one (Goddanged Buper) were killed.  The police have declined to comment on the matter. Few are sad at Disguster’s death, but they are concerned that other mini-countries will be massacred in the future! This event has led to increased coverage of mini-countries by the mainstream media. Goddanged Buper is in shock at the Rockman Metro. Hospital. He is unable to answer questions at the moment. Public opinion is divided between liberals who say that those mini-countries which do not pose a threat should be tolerated, and conservatives who say that non-Canadian governments pose a threat to Canada’s well-being. However, most people and rockmen seem to be of the liberal persuasion in this particular matter.


The race is heating up. The Senate currently contains 7 seats, which used to be 5 in months past. Odds seem to be in favour of the current Senate being re-elected, but there is a good chance that a few new senators may find their way into a seat come the 14th. Polls say that the most popular candidate is Bob Boser. The purpose of the Senate is to approve or disapprove of the Mayor’s bills.


-The Conserver (U.C)
Wants to conserve everything.
-Bob Boser (Farmer)
Much experience farming grass.
-DoGooder Hatfield (Lib)
Believe in the “Robin-hood” philiosophy.
(Steal from the rich and give to the poor)
-Groinchard (G)
Wants the Republic to be like Groinland.
-Poopaduper (P.P)
Wants parties to be held every night at Town Hall.
-Nat Mathis (M)
Very middle of the road and uncontroversial.


Untra-conservative- (U.C)
A controversial new party based on the ideals of buying few products, working
hard, being very cautious, spending little, and conserving waste. Not very popular.

The second-most popular party in the Republic. It supports traditional beliefs and values. Also, it is in support of a smaller government. Generally supports conservative social ideas and liberal economic ideas.

-Liberal- (Lib)

One of the smaller political parties in the Republic.  Believes in liberal social ideas and supports a more ‘left wing’ economic manifesto. Supports moderate taxes and social programs.

Believes in values somewhat between the Conservative and Liberal ones. It is rather popular, but not as much as the Conservatives nor the Farmers. Least popular of the well-known parties.

The Farmer party has strong agricultural roots, and somewhat resembles the
American Republican Party. It believes in big government more so than any other popular party. Currently in favour.

-Groin- (G) An import from neighbooring ally Groinland. Not very popular with anyone except immigrants from Groinland. Becoming slightly less groin-related to get more popular votes. Very liberal views.

-Party- (P.P)
A very controversial party based on anarchist views. It supports hardly any
control in any fashion. It also wants parties to be held in public places and
parks very often.


The recently-started Party Party has been harassing the citizens of the Republic.
One victim states: “He tried to attack me with his arm, but I grabbed my gun and shot it off in the air. Then, he left and said I was a ‘pooper.’” The Mayor has not changed his opinion on the matter, that the party should be avoided at all costs. Polls say that the Party Party is one of the least popular.


Mayor Braun held a special meeting with the president of the Republic of Moist. Their president, Mr. Moist, said that they should be allies because “It looks like you all need some moistness.” Mayor Braun said the South Republic would help defend the Republic of Moist if they gave the Republic 10 litres of water every month. The President responded “O yes! Moistness is helpful for diplomatic relations.” The newfound Republic of Moist has been around for only 3 months, compared with our Republic’s 10 months. Moist is located in Whitemud Park. They have a population of 24 rockmen. Their only major industry they have is water production.


Since the military has finally reached the milestone of 50 active members, the first-ever Lieutenant has been crowned. Ryan Ryder has received a medal of bravery during the Eastern Offensive. He is held among the best in the army. A parade is being held for this momentous occasion in the Town Square.


The most skilled (and only) gunsmith in Groinland has made 5 custom rifles for some of the most decorated soldiers in the Army. They are considered much higher-quality than the typical service firarms. However, some people say they are unfair, and that if some soldiers get Groinish guns, all soldiers should get Groinish guns. Mayor Braun stated that it helps us keep on good terms with Groinland when trades are made. Some other disagree, saying that it will boost Groinland’s power, which could make it a bigger threat.


Senate hopeful The Conserver told us (GLSR) that his campaign has been severely restricted to online and radio forms because of his ultra-conservative principles. He said “Sending letters is a waste of paper, which in turn is a waste of trees, which by the way have to be imported! It’s unethical for me to allow that. How I run my campaign is just another example of what I stand for and why I want a place in the Senate.” However, this decision has greatly reduced The Conserver’s exposure and possibly his voting base.


The South Republic Police Force has been considering changing their recommended service gun from a Grosser .17 Medium-velocity to a Chinker .22 Highish-Velocity. The current sidearm typically takes more than one shot to kill, and does not cause much damage. It only holds two shots, but is very reliable. The proposed new sidearm would be much more powerful and have a higher chance of killing the target, but is less reliable. I think that, when dealing with criminals, a very trusty firearm is important, especially if the criminal is also armed.  Also, there is less danger of the current model being used against the policeman because it only holds two shots. All in all, the Force will make their own decision, but we can do our best to try and sway it by telling our friends and even writing letters to the Senators and the Mayor.


My first impression of the Snowsucker was one of good quality and sturdiness, but also costliness! A new Snowsucker is over $350. However, they are reliable enough to last months without repairs even in bad winter weather. The machine is quite simple. It involves an apparatus resembling a snowblower, which sucks the snow into a reservoir. The reservoir can hold about 65 pounds. It is overall a no-frills but trusty vehicle, if you can afford it. It is gasoline-powered, with a 200 cc engine.

* * * / * * * * $385


Our current border laws are ineffective.
Groinland has been sending over too many immigrants, and we accept them much too easily. Everyone knows that the rogue state of Groinland is a pest. Even if we are allies with them and on good terms with them, they still are anarchist whackos. They even sent over a serial killer that murdered one of our great citizens, by the name of Thomas Lyson. All because the border-control agents didn’t stop him. We need much better borders with more guards. This would create more jobs, which would stimulate the economy. And what do the liberals have to say but “Oh, it’s so useless!” I’m enraged! Call up your mayor right now and tell him to get the Groiners evacuated from our beautiful Republic.


Since the temperatures have started falling and snow became more abundant, there has been much more exporting of late. The most hopeful commodities are drinking water and snow. Mr.Busygroin the entrepreneur has made a useful machine that makes snow into semi-pure water that could be used for watering littles. The economy has been getting better than it was in December..

SNOW Exports are much more plentiful. The market is good.
Selling: $.80/pound
ICE There is little ice in the area, and few buyers.
Selling: $.80/pound
DRINKING WATER An entrepreneur named Busygroin has made his own water purifier with the help of his employee, Jack LeMon. Busygroin claims the machine can make water from snow to potable drinking water by using burnt garbage for fuel.
Selling: $.70/litre
TIMBER Timber sales are essentially at a standstill due to legal disagreements between rockmen and landowners.
Selling: $1/ pound
TOTAL ASSETS SOLD $66.30 for the week -BAUGHT- $40 in the week



The 3rd Groinsus ever has just been taken, and it has revealed much information about Groiners. Here are some of the statistics.

Population: 67 (up from 42 in October)

Religions: 80% Groinish Church 17% None of them! 3% Other

Crime Rate: Murders = .6/month Assaults = 13/month Groins = 30/month

Political Party Preferences: 40% Groin Party 30% Groinland Party 21% SuperGroin Party 19% Grossness Party


1. Pet Little, good bloodlines. Would taste nice. $3
2. Pet “Fish.” Insane. Treat like a fish, not a rockman. $10
3. Bike, Swiss. Super NICENESS! Only $25!
4. Harmonica, good for bashing. $2
5. Tree Ornament, redness $5


Mr. Groinmurderer was killed by one of his victims as he tried to groin her. He will
be buried in the ground.
“He was so useful for do-inge things. Too bad he was moidered.”
-his only friend Groinibobber
“I loved his groins” -His wife Groinmoideress
“I’m glad he’s dead. He was a real pooper! A pain in the groin!” -Old Groingroiner

Disguster, the dictator of the late country the Dictatorship of Disguster, has been murdered by the Edmonton Police Force. Although it is not typical to record deaths in far-away countries, we have decided to because of the importance of Disguster. His remains will be buried if they are ever found, which is doubtful. “Oh God, he was such a grossness!” –His neighbor, Billder the Gosh-darned “I hated him!” –Joe James “Too bad we couldn’t find his body. It deserves groining.” -Hobgroin


“I was reading your last newspaper from December, and I really liked Busygroin’s idea about the water purifier. We need more groin ideas like that in Groinland! It’s such a useful idea! Ingroinuity is a good thing to have. Now let’s get off our groins and invent something!” –Hobgroin

“Groinland is the best of all of them! We’re so much better than the grossness Southern Republic. We’re almost better than our groins!” -Groiniliscous

GLSR news issue 1


1-3 Southern Republic 4-5 Groinland
5 Business 6 Classifieds

Rumors of Vote Rigging Aimed At Upper-Class

Word has been spreading around that some of the top shareholders in the Republic
have been bribed by a mysterious stranger to vote for the revolutionary anarchist
Party Party. The main goal of the party is to “Have lots of parties all the time”
according to its spokesperson Fun Man. A good number of locals have been
speaking out against this party and even had a protest in front of Town Hall. The
mayor agreed with the protests and said publicly “This party is a gross
abomination of the morals of the good people of this Republic. Remember all the
great parties there are that don’t have such corrupt ideals.”

Military Recruitment Ads Successful

The new ads designed by First Lieutenant Bob Billman have brought in 4 new
recruits, according to surveys. This is the highest number ever accomplished by
one ad, and is praised as one of the best-done ever. The ads feature footage of the
fight against the Easterners and “Before and After” interviews with soldiers and
their families. They have been featured in newspapers and on the local television

Activists Pushing for New Laws on Littles

Some extreme activists have been trying to get Mayor Braun to get new legislation
in that would criminalize butchering littles. There is little public support for
this legislation. Mayor Braun said “Eating beef is part of life. Just because an
extremist or two thinks it’s good for the Republic to stop selling one of our
most important products is good, doesn’t mean I’ll ban this asset to the South.”

Allegations of Groinland President Groining Stranger

The president Groinrich has been accused
of groining an aquaintance named Susano. She recently told the Groin Police that,
while walking home from the Groin Shop, the president jumped down from a tree and
attempted to groin her, but she fought him off and told him to “Groin your own
groin.” In a recent interview, Groinrich said to “Go put a goddamn on your
goddanged.” after insisting we should get a better answer, he responded “Shut
up. I only groin my wife and groinkids.” A court date is scheduled in the
notoriously fair and just Southlands Court in the neighboring “mini-country”
the Southern Republic.

New Election coming up for police:

The police force of Groinland has an upcoming election on the 29th of December.
Candidates include Grossgroin, Nathgroin, Groinbobber, Jim Groin, and
Groiniliscous. Voting booths are located in the town hall and church.  Ever
since the last president left office, it has been traditional to elect new police
every month, unless the current ones are voted to stay in office.

Current Trade Prices & Information:

Business is not at a standstill, but is still hardly prosperous. The most hopeful
commodity is drinking water. The economy has been slow and food scarce.

SNOW Because of the relatively scarce amount of snow, there has been few exports.
Selling: $.75/pound
ICE There is little ice in the area, and few buyers.
Selling: $.80/pound
DRINKING WATER An entrepreneur named Busygroin has made his own water purifier
with the help of his employee, Jack LeMon. Busygroin claims the machine can
make water from snow to potable drinking water by using burnt garbage for fuel.
Selling: $.60/litre
TIMBER A small volume was sold, but rights have been hard to acquire and trading
was done in the dark.
Selling: $1/ pound
TOTAL ASSETS SOLD $56.80 for the month -BAUGHT- $100


1. Painting done by a friend, $5
2. Pet Little, good bloodlines. Would taste nice. $3
3. Pet Fish. Insane. Treat like a fish, not a rockman. $10
4. Bike, Swiss. Super NICENESS! Only $25!
5. Scissors. Grossnesses. $.50.