Jack Studebaker, reporter – Floyd Feltcher, proprietor of Feltcher’s Butcher Shop on Main Street, made a statement Friday in response to repeated queries concerning the dramatic presentation from his brother Bob Feltcher and his subsequent arrest last week during a Town council meeting. Floyd Feltcher, a lifelong resident of Puddlegulch in good standing with the community at large, made the statement behind his counter while wrapping a pork loin for Edna Mersaphat, a regular customer of the shop.
“Every family’s got one,” Feltcher said in reference to his younger brother. “But I don’t want people to think the rest of the Feltcher family condones this kind of behavior.”
Feltcher posted bail in the amount of $500 in behalf of his younger sibling who was charged with drunk and disorderly conduct, indecent exposure and disturbing the peace after exposing his posterior to those assembled at last week’s town council meeting. Bob Feltcher has kept a low profile since then. Calls to his residence have gone unanswered and he has not been seen directing traffic as he usually does at the corner of Possum Hollow and Main.
A court date has not been determined as of this writing since clerk Sarah Mendelbright was unavailable at the courthouse due to family obligations.
Feltcher has been questioned by customers (and this reporter) repeatedly concerning his brother since the incident. He has vehemently denied that any of it was a publicity stunt to drum up business for the butcher shop. He reluctantly announced that the statement was forthcoming early Monday morning and that it would be his last word on the subject. The shop was full of customers (and this reporter) when he finally addressed those assembled.
Feltcher concluded his statement after weighing a pound of ground meat for Rosemary Jenkins. “I want everyone in town to know that Feltcher’s will always provide the best cuts of meat in the county at the best price! And in that spirit I want to announce a sale on rump roast for the rest of the week!”
Gordon Geary, Editor in Chief and sometimes reporter – Bob Feltcher was arrested this week for drunk and disorderly conduct, indecent exposure, and disturbing the peace during a town council meeting.
Complaints of his unauthorized supervision of Puddlegulch residents have been brought to the council for years, but the council has dismissed the complaints with the philosophy of “what harm is he doing anyone?” as Councilman Joe Grouse had said at a July 2014 council meeting.
However, the council’s hand was forced after an incident in which Feltcher tried to extort an apple betty from Elsie Higgenbotham in exchange for “protection.”
When the issue of Bob and his unauthorized post of sheriff the (non-existent) neighborhood watch came to the floor.
“Bob stormed into the hall stinking of roadhouse whiskey and blurting out something about the whole court being out of order,” said Elsie’s daughter Jenny Hingenbotham, the bespectacled maiden Puddlegulch librarian.
She went on to describe how he grabbed the floor mic and gave an emotional speech about how he had “given his heart and soul to a community which never gave a two sh**s about his service.” He then dropped his pants and underwear and mooned the 75 citizens gathered for the meeting. In so doing, he passed gas violently.
Deputy Barnes, who was standing guard, tackled Feltcher and arrested him on the spot.
Bob was released on $500 bail by his brother Floyd Feltcher of Feltcher’s Butcher Shop.
Bob will stand trial next month and has been banned from patrolling the neighborhoods of Puddlegulch for life.
Priestess Willow Wolfclaw, guest contributor – Merry meet! The first Full Moon of the year is named after howling wolves. In some cultures, it was known as Old Moon, Ice Moon, Snow Moon, and the Moon after Yule.
Many Native tribes called January’s full moon the Wolf Moon because of the greater hunger of the mighty wolves in the deep cold of winter. Their howling is both chilling and greatly beneficial to one’s spiritual health. It is also known to locals as the Possum Moon for all of the possums eaten by the wolves under its gentle light.
Tonight is special, though, because the Sun, Earth, and the Moon shall be aligned creating a penumbral lunar eclipse.
This is an ideal time for moon magic. The Circle of the Blood Moon will be meeting at midnight on Little Hill to view the eclipse and perform a communal spell to grant Puddlegulch’s greatest wish: to exceed one THOUSAND residents.
We do not know what the moon will bring. Fertility? Newcomers? The saving of a life?
What we do know is that we will be bundled with the warmest long john underwear provided by Dales’ Discount General.
Our copy editor, Rose Hassler, wife of local celebrity author Chuck Hassler who is best known for his thrilling 1978 debut western novel “Colt Hardcastle & The Persimmon Hill Posse,” has stepped down to return to her letter-writing campaign to the Post on grammar issues.
The Puddlegulch Post would like to introduce our newest staff member Kaylie Pham. Not only will she raise the quality of writing hear at The Puddlegulch Post, she will raise the percentage of minority and attractiveness of our staff and community. She begins first thing Monday!
Kaylie graduated 44th in her class at Northeast Western University with a bachelorette in literature. She was born in nearby Tompauk and graduated from Tompauk High where she was on the debate team and the cheerleader squad for the Tompauk High Centaurs. She is an expert in the Grammarly spell-checking browser plugin and Google Docs both of which we will have Ezekial Jones, Puddlegulch Internet Telephone and Computer Technical Support Specialist, explain to us. She lives with her cat, Kraylie, and she is a barista at the Ignite Church lobby expresso bar.
The Puddlegulch Post extends its sincere apology for any appearance of ableism toward our Puddlegulch newcomer, Fred Frith. UFA (Unfortunate Spellation Anxiety) and MMS (Mixed Metaphors Syndrome) are serious conditions that affect thousands of Americans each day who, although can spell very well, get too anxious to do so . We thank the passion of Dr. Archibald Rogers, acclaimed expert on the second smallest country in the world, for helping us see our error. We gladly print this congenial letter from Fred Frith. Welcome to our community, Fred and Fern.
My name is Fred Frith. My wife and sweathurt, Fern, have rizenly muved to yure luvly city, Pullygut. We are quoking with exsitment at the purspict of leaving in your fairy city, Pullygut. We left our home stade, Oglahomer, a munth ago and have been wundering aboot luukking for a newd place to sittle in. And we theenk Pullygut is difinitly the placed.
We have nuttisd that your town has a muscot. We herd your muscot is a pussum. Is a pussum an enemal? If soe, wut kind of enemal is it? We would rilly luv to meet such an enemal. We had cowz and hurses on our furm in Oglahomer. But niver hurd of a pussum. Hopping it does nut bite. Ha, ha?!
Well, Mr. Editurd. We are luking forwerd to our daze in Pullygut. Buy the way, Fern and I dunt have much munny. So we mite nut be abel to affurd yore noozpooper. Can we just come to yure urfice now and thin and you can tell us the latist nooz. And maybe we cud thin meet that pussum.
Have a gud day to you. And dunt take eny wooden pickels! Ha, Ha??!!
I write in protest, dear sir. In protest of theoutrageous treatment of one of our local citizens, a Mr. Fred Frith. Mr. Frith, along with his wife Mrs. Fern Frith, has recently begun attending the Douglas Gulch Presbyterian Church, a church of which my family were charter members in a town of which my forebears were among the founders. We have recently discussed, at length, the decision of your newspaper to not print Mr. Frith’s very congenial letter due to his many misspellings.
I know that you are aware by now, due to Mrs. Frith’s letter to your paper, that Mr. Frith is the victim of UFA (Unfortunate Spellaton Anxiety). Our church’s Session is presently in discussion about the possibility of passing a resolution of censure against the Puddlegulch Post.
Inability to spell, I assure you, does not mean that Mr. Frith lacks intelligence. In fact, he has recently enrolled in a course that I teach at a college in nearby Tompauk . I have been a professor at this college for 10 years. My field is the study of the country of Tuvalu, the second smallest country (in terms of population) in the world. Risking a lack of humility on my part, I confess that I am known by some as the world’s expert on Tuvalu. My college, which has as its motto “Small is Often Better,” hired me specifically to teach one class each year on some aspect of Tuvalu. They require me to teach no other classes, but to spend the rest of my time continuing my research on this beautiful small country. Unfortunately, until Mr. Frith enrolled in my class, only one other student has signed up to take my class in the last 10 years. As it turned out, that one student was not able to attend even one class session. He was, alas, afflicted with a very severe case of folliculitis which he apparently got from his parent’s hot tub. This resulted in his dropping out of school completely. My college is not daunted. They are proud to be known as the only college in the country, indeed the world, that offers a class concerned with the history, culture, and present events of the second smallest country in the world. I am, it seems, a feather in my college’s cap. And may one day, be one of many ‘feathers’ which will lead to this school’s becoming not a college, but a university!
But back to Mr. Frith. Simply put, I urge you to print his letter. I think your readers will enjoy being introduced to this lovely and unassuming man who I think you will find is a picture of the spirit we so admire in our own Perry the Possum.
With the Deepest Sincerity,
Dr. Archibald Rogers
Ph.D. in Ancient Tuvaluvian Studies and author of “Tuvaluvian Philatelic Bureau: The Staggering Diversity of Tuvalu Stamps”
The boys of the Puddlegulch Volunteer Fire Brigade responded on the evening of December 9 to the home of Marietta Marson, widow of the late Henry Marson for report of a fire in the living room. Upon arrival, a fire was indeed found! The source of the blaze was found to be the newly purchased Christmas tree from the Marlo’s MegaMart in Taylorfield which Widow Marson had set up the day before. Gregory Fiddlestone and Joe Whistler put aside their differences over their much talked about collision at Possum Hollow and Main long enough to extinguish the blaze.
“I always wanted that Norman Rockwell feel to the house at Christmas time,” said Widow Marson. “And to me, that means having a picturesque tree next to a blazing hearth. But Henry never wanted that with a live tree because he thought it would be a fire hazard; we always had to put the tree out in the barn and spend Christmas morning shivering in our wraps with the goats and Henry’s ‘pet’ possum Toothy. What with Henry gone now, I reckoned I could get one of those fake trees from Marlo’s that’s easy to assemble and be able to put it where I’ve always wanted it.”
But an artificial tree is still subject to the perils of fire, Puddlegulchians. It doesn’t matter what kind of tree you put up or how easy it is to assemble, if it’s too close to the fire, it’s going to go up along with your Norman Rockwell dreams. It’s just a matter of how long it takes. Best to keep your tree away from any heat source, and if it’s a real tree, keep it watered.
I salute Henry Marson for his extraordinary dedication to fire safety. Would that we all celebrated Christmas in our barns, much like Joseph and Mary did.
In the immortal words of local celebrity author, Chuck Hassler, in his thrilling debut novel Colt Hardcastle & The Persimmon Hill Posse, “Fire takes no friend and respects no tree.”