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Well, the winds of change are blowing a lot of lint around these days. Someone who wishes to remain anonymous has purchased the jewel in Lake Vernor's navel, the beloved Emma "Trixie" Danit Memorial Parking lot. Rumor has it that the purchaser plans to tear down the parking lot and build an historic mansion in it's place. The rumor mill was also grinding out the fact that the aforementioned historic mansion would be called The Paradise and be used as a bed and breakfast. But the denizens of Lake Vernor do not take such things lying down. So it was that a bunch of leading denizens of Lake Vernor were sitting around the Halfmast Tavern and Pink Drink Lounge a few nights ago discussing the recent turn of events. Mayor Whitehead called the meeting to order by grabbing West Sandusky Fred's pool cue and rapping on the bar and a few rowdy heads. "Let's have a little order here," he said. Cujo Mike raised his hand. "The chair recognizes Mr. Cujo Mike," said the mayor. "I sure hope so, Ricky. I've been your cousin-in-law for nearly 15 years." The mayor looked at Cujo and then Fred's, by now, pretty battered pool cue, then back to Cujo and sighed. "What I mean, Cujo is that you may speak, assuming you have something germane to this discussion." "Come on Ricky, you knows I don't talk nuttin' but Inglisch. So dat's wat I'se gonna use ‘n' if ya don't like it, tough. Now jus' a minnut ago youse wuz callin' fer order! order! Well I tink I wunt a boloney sammich on wheat wit musterd." Mayor Whitehead ruled Mr. Mike out of order then promised Mr. Fred that he would buy him another pool cue. The mayor then continued with the meeting. "As all of you know, we here in Lake Vernor are faced with a crisis that threatens our well cultivated sense of security and ennui. An outsider, interloper if you will has purchased our beloved Trixie Danit Memorial Parking lot from the Danit estate and plans to build a new historic mansion on the site. I'm sure I speak for most of Lake Vernor when I say that we have a strong aversion to change as it tends to confuse many of us, especially the elderly and feeble minded of this community. It is out of compassion for their plight, especially that I speak out on this issue." A voice came from the back of the room. "You should be concerned. They're the ones that elected you." Whitehead flung a piece of what used to be a pool cue toward the back of the room and continued. "This is a matter that concerns all of us, the lame, halt and inbred, as well as the feeble minded and elderly. We need to have a consensus on the matter so that we can come up with a plan of action. Does anybody have any thoughts or ideas?" At the mention of thoughts, an uneasy murmur went through the crowd. Finally a hand was raised. The hand in question was attached to Tapioca McLoud, Lake Vernor's Chief of Police and entire police force. "The chair recognizes Tap McLoud. That means you can speak now Tap." Tap stood up with his characteristic thud. Tap always makes a thud when he stands up. It's the sound his stomach makes when it falls off his lap and hits the floor. "What I want ta know about this here bed ‘n breakfast thing is what exactly is gonna be goin' on between bed and breakfast. Ah assumes that these will be outta town furriners, strangers iff'n ya wanna call ‘em that, what'll be usin' this here bed ‘n breakfast place. As the duly elected law ossifer of this here town, I ain't gonna stand for a lotta strangers sleepin' in beds in this town. Strangers shouddunt sleep together." A sharp nudge to the mayor's ribs from his personal security officer Lou L.N. McTavish jolted him back to the present. "Now Tap, you know that we have an ordinance on the books that limits all beds in town to a size too small to sleep in much less anything else." At this point, Miss Penny Hainey, owner of the Temple of Toast and the Code 4 Café stood up. "Mr. Mayor," she said, "I think we have the solution to our problem. All we need to do is amend our bed ordinance to ban them all together. If we do that then there's no point in anybody building a bed and breakfast. I don't think we have anything to worry about!" Just them Mack Murphy burst into the Tavern. Mack is not only political extremity reporter for the Lake Vernor News-Herald & Courier-Gazette and Weekly Shopper's Sheet, but he is also the paper's best (and only)investigative reporter. Mack had been assigned by Aunt Ida Olnik, the paper's publisher, to dig up what he could on the buyer of the Trixie Danit Memorial Parking lot. None of us had expected much to come of the assignment when we saw Mack take a shovel instead of a reporter's notebook. Perhaps we had been wrong! "What is it, Mack?" said Whitehead. "Wait'll y'all hear whut I dun fown out. I fown out th' guy who dun bought th' parkin' lot iz buyin' up more parts ah th' town! He ain't jus' gonna put up a hysteric manshun. He wants to make the whole town hysterical. Ya wanna know whut else hez gonna do?" Everybody just stared at Mack. "Uh kay, he jus dun bought up all the streets in town. Hez gonna tear up the cobblestones an pave th' streets with dirt!" NEXT WEEK: An English translation of what Mack said. Can't figure out what the Hell we're talking about? Well,
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