Emmett's articles
During a spring break trip to India, frat boy Mark Walden was reportedly elated at the idea of rushing the region’s well-known caste system.
“Dude, do you think I’ll get a bid for the Brahmins? I’ve heard they throw these like, crazy parties, and are basically the best caste in all of India,” said Walden, walking through the streets looking for the row with all the caste’s houses.
Sources report that a complicated situation this week was actually the perfect occasion to use the wind chime emoji.
“Something about the scheduling with the lake house, and the second cousins, and Jill’s back surgery–total clusterfuck of a situation to convey over text…” recounted Amanda Silverman, who had received the completely opaque communication in a brand new group chat vaguely named “vacation.” “I was struggling to understand, or know how to react, and then it hit me: Use the wind chime emoji.”
“I’ve lived my whole life not knowing when to use the wind chime emoji, but at that moment, I knew that they perfectly encapsulated the information conveyed,” continued Silverman, who had scrolled for 13 seconds searching for the esoteric, but in this instance perfectly apt, reaction image.
RFK Jr. announced at a recent press conference that he was once trapped for seven years in the grime dimension, eating trash at the court of Mucor, the mold king.
“I was scrounging around the dump like normal, when a vortex of dirt and grime started twisting and pulling on me.
Recent reports from the restaurant sector indicate that a local steakhouse is so mahogany.
“When that rich shade of brown hits your eyes, you can’t help but know you’ve entered Ron’s Big Steaks,” said Frank Kernel, longtime customer of Ron’s and a self-described “steakiac.” “It’s that particular brown that announces to you, ‘Hey buddy, unfurl your bib and take out those metal things we call utensils.
Sources report that local welder Diane Willis always dreamed of having a big metal face with one rectangular eye.
“When I was a kid, I used to go to the junkyard and hold up pieces of metal in front of my face just to see what it would feel like for my face to be made of metal and my eyes to be made of rectangle,” said Willis, clearly overjoyed to have found a profession where that odd physical characteristic was not just commonplace but mandatory.
In a dismal yet stereotypical display this past Tuesday, a glum fellow was seen trudging down the street.
“I drag my feet, I’m constantly grumbling, and I’m pretty much always crying a little bit. Why? My life is so fucking sad,” said the glum fellow, later identified as local Auntie Anne’s regional manager Craig Marshall.
In advance of a party this weekend, Eric Kerman, whose friend group is mainly composed of a large ant colony, was reportedly asking for 100,000 plus ones.
“I would feel bad if I can’t invite a few of the guys over to this party,” said Eric forlornly, while carrying tiny pieces of a goldfish cracker to an anthill a few feet away.
At a party this past weekend, many were surprised by Devon, a chipmunk whose voice is so deep he just sounds like a regular guy. “I was taken aback to hear a man’s voice come out of that little chipmunk frame,” said Megan Jones in complete shock as she contemplated Devon’s dude-like timbre.
During a routine surgery at Rhode Island Hospital this past Monday, Dr. Laurence Mitchell, also known by his stage name “Zozento the Illustrious,” removed a patient’s kidney that was also many scarves.
“Yeah, one second Dr. Mitchell was reaching into the patient’s abdomen and pulling out the kidney, and the next, a man in a flowing yellow cape was pulling scarf after scarf out of the patient,” recounted nurse Jessie Ramirez, who reportedly stood slack-jawed as the surgeon/magician continued the operation.
This past week, several concerned citizens in East Providence filed a police report about a lazy stalker who was found wandering aimlessly in the hopes of finding his target.
“Yeah, I mean, I’m obsessed with her, but I couldn’t tell you how to start the actual stalking, so I just started walking around,” said stalker Mort Peterson, who was reported after wandering into every store on Main Street and asking patrons if they’d seen a girl anywhere.
As part of his mission to “make America healthy again,” RFK Jr. has recently announced that he is officially lengthening the five-second rule.
“Food used to come from the ground, and now we won’t let it sit there for more than five seconds? Ridiculous!” croaked Kennedy, claiming that the initiative would reduce food waste as well as build immunity to natural floor-borne illness.
Sources have reported that Professor Alastair Prendergast failed 65% of his Clairvoyance 1300 class this past Wednesday, five weeks ahead of the final exam.
“As I gazed into the temporal rhizome, I saw a dark miasma hovering over the tests of certain students of mine,” said Prendergast, sitting languidly in an ornate wooden chair while reflecting upon the musings of his orb.
This past Thursday, sources have indicated that a local camel’s back was completely obliterated by a real monster of a straw.
“The second I saw that thing, I knew my camel was toast,” said Alex Simmons, a local camel owner who was preparing to store as many straws on his camel’s back as he could, one by one.
Sources are reporting this week that Bucky, the family dog of eight years, was seen tactlessly begging for food at an extremely emotionally charged family dinner.
“There is no way in hell you are getting custody over my children!” yelled Sarah Smythe at her future ex-husband, Darren, while Bucky rudely pawed her leg with a dumb grin on his face.
In recent news, a 30-year vow of silence at a local all-white monastery was nearly broken during the impromptu playing of “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond.
“It was like holding back a sneeze,” wrote Frank George Sr., a silent monk who had started a trend of knocking on the table during the “pum, pum, pum” part of the song.
As I sit here, idling my days away in the semi-comfortable embrace of my guitar stand, I have but one question to you, my owner: why? Why must you chain me here, day in and day out? You claim to “dabble,” so I hear, but when, pray tell, was the last time you “dabbled” with me? Recall our sweet duets of Riptide and Wonderwall? Don’t you remember those golden days, when you would play me for tens of minutes on end whenever you heard a song you sort of wanted to learn?
The subtle, maddening nature of isolation and unfulfillment is really starting to get to me.
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