Global-Fed Dive Bombers Attack Romoland!

Reported May 14, 1997
Romoland, Texas

Yesterday, a day that will live in infancy, UN dive bombers deliberately and flaglantly attacked the city of Romoland, Texas, at about 4:30 in the afternoon, Central Standard Time.

They come in from the west-by-south-east (or south), flying low so as to avoid radar detection, right up the Jim Hogg Highway and over my trailer house, then they peelt off and headed for town, which is 15 miles west'a here. One of these aircraft was yeller and the other was kinda lime or off-green. Both aircraft appeared to me to be camoflaged with artificial spinning propellers on the front of them. I quickly set down my cold drink and run in the house and called 911, but the ignernt operator would not connect me with the Confederate Air Force, (our only un-federal air power) so I hung up in disgussed.

Instantly I reached for my .410, but grasped at empty air only, for it had been seized by local lawmen on trumped up charges of shootin' dove outa season offa telephone wires--which as we all know is the only way you can hit one'a them damn things with a .410--I sprang outside to access the situation--

Here they come again, a roarin and a spewin this gray mist or milky gas down from metal tubes on their wings--then I knew it was all-out chemical or biological warfare--and they was comin right at me! I cooly located the only weapon at my disposal, a big ole water hose with one'a them spray heads, and I turned on that water full blast and let it build up in the hose while I run around to the backa the trailer and waited, and when that first bomber was right on top of me I jumped out and sprayed his damn plane right in the cockpit, thereby dazing and baffling the pilot so much he lit out for home--wherever THAT is! That other old boy seen what happened to his comrade and run off before I could draw a bead on him.

I sprung into my truck and raced to town, anxious for what I might find--but they was all just walkin around like nothin happened--all appeared to be well--for today--

But what about tomorrow--or the next day--or on down the line when these insipid chemicals and micro-germs starts to workin on these folks, makin them do all kinds of wierd, wild things? What does the future hold for this harmless hamlet? I tried to tell'em, oh Lord, I tried to warn'em--but they was too smug an' fancy with their Jim Walters homes and their air conditioned grocery store--yes, this is the path to decimation--this is the road to Romoland...

I regressed to my home and fixed me a big ole tumbler of Jim Beam and Mountain Dew--broke the seal on a new pack of Pall Malls--and dictated this to my cousin Jon the computer boy who swears to write it just like I says it--GOD SAVE THE REPUBLIC OF TEXAS--GOD SAVE ROMOLAND--and the hell with you all, naw don't write that down fool, gimme that so's I can look at it--well alright.

Yall better look out.

Jimmy Dean Whatley
E-Mail

[ Browse Reports | About Us | Talk ]
[ Join Us | Comments & Suggestions ]