Charie D. La Marr

Persiphonia

Today we held our annual Old Farts’ Fish Off. There really isn’t a set day for this competition. It takes place some time in the spring on the day after one of our old farts decides like he feels going fishing. The rules are simple. All contestants are 65 and over. They are two men to a motorboat. They are allowed any kind of lures and bait they want, a tackle box each and a cooler with two six packs of beer per person. The fishing starts whenever the old farts show up and continues until the two six packs are gone. Bathroom breaks are allowed due to the age of the competitors. When you have used up your beer, you come in and they weigh your biggest catch of the day. Biggest fish wins bragging rights and one free beer whenever he goes to one of our local taverns and tells the big fish story about how he caught his whopper. The Old Farts’ Fish Off is often held more than once a year due to crotchety old men challenging each other again and again. One year, we had ten of them. Ernie Cheney and Chester Wiggins—Persiphonia’s resident old coots are always in the contest although they have never caught anything bigger than a guppy. They have used everything under the sun for bait—from corn on the cob to hotdog slices with mustard. They have also tried cultivating their own worms to no avail. There was some question as to whether or not they would compete this year after their big fight over the pot that Chester found in Ernie’s trash that turned out to be worth half a million dollars. It’s now in the Louvre. But Ernie and Chester eventually made up and spent a lot of time in the late winter huddled together making plans for the Fish Off. They bragged constantly that this was their year and there was no way they could lose. They showed up about 9 am—very early for them and took off for a secret fishing spot that they had been scouting for several weeks. They were out all day—not even coming in for bathroom breaks, which was also unusual for them considering the condition of their prostates. (I don’t even want to go there!) They were the last team back—shortly before sunset. They were drinking their last beers and yelling that they had a winner. Inside the boat was about a 15 pound striped bass—far and away the winner. The two of them were whooping it up when Clark Fulgham, owner of the Fulgham Street Fish Market stepped forward to examine the fish carefully. He turned to the crowd and pronounced Ernie and Chester to be cheaters. You see, some people never forget a face. Well. Clark never forgets a fish face—especially not if it’s one of the biggest fish he sold all winter. He specifically recalled selling that very fish to Ernie and Chester back in January or February. The way he figured it, the two old coots must have taken the fish back to one of their houses and deep-frozen it. Then they hid it in the ice at the bottom of their beer cooler and gone to their secret fishing spot. There, they took it out and let it thaw out in the sun all day—bringing it in when it was sufficiently thawed and showed it off to the others. Their cooler was emptied and in the bottom, a small piece of Mr. Fulgham’s fish wrapping paper was discovered. The two of them were denounced as cheaters and kicked out of the Old Fart’s Fish Off for life. Instead, Kramer Wickoff was announced as the winner with 1.5 pound fish of undetermined species. Chester and Ernie, still protesting their innocence, left in disgrace. Today, I would like to make your city an offer. Why don’t you host the next Old Farts’ Fish Off in your city? We can send our old farts to compete against yours. You can decide if Chester and Ernie get to participate. Think of the fun. Think of the excitement. Think of the notoriety it will bring to your city. Think about the pressure you will be taking off poor overworked Mayor Persi. At the end of the contest, you can keep the old farts or send them back. I’ll leave that entirely up to you. I won’t send along any entertainment with this. Believe me—this will be more entertainment than your citizens can handle. So how about it? Let’s talk. The guys are starting to talk about an Old Farts’ Fish Off Two already. Help me out, Mayors. Please remember to POP or Entertain us back often when you see us down. We have dumped a bunch of connex AGAIN. I ONLY accept cities who send a FRIEND REQUEST. Don’t ask here and don’t send me a message. ONLY friend requests will be considered in the order they arrive. I intend to give preference to people who have loyally popped Persiphonia though they were non-connections. We autopop every night at midnight or as close to midnight as we remember to. AND NOW FOR THE LATEST NEWS … Tales of Persiphonia is now online! I am in the process of adding all of the tales from way back in the beginning, along with my personal tips for playing the game and other cool Persiphonia stuff. You can find us at http://persiphonia.wordpress.com/ Drop by often. Leave comments. We love to hear from you! I am almost up to date adding the old ones to the blog. WIN 25 PRESIDENTIAL FAVOR POINTS! Send me an essay – 25 words or less stating why you think your city should be the next Moe Town. Post your answer on my wall. Winner will get 25 Favor Points credited to their account compliments of the Mayor of Persiphonia. ONE DAY LEFT! Sincerely yours, Persiphone Hellecat, Mayor, Empress, Queen and Exaulted Grand Poobah of Persiphonia, Land of the Free and Home of the Bipolar. (We have an excellent medical plan that includes prescriptions!) A PROUD NO NUKES CITY!!! We are now SOLAR!!! Let the sun shine in!