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The Tillyville Times
June 6, 2004
Vol 1 No 2
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This Week in Tillyville |
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Come look in on the Hot
Tomatoes. They're goofy, and on Sunday they have the hiccups.
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Tillyville Residents to Get Certificates
The Tillyville Council announced that all Tillyville residents would be getting Certificates of Citizenship.
The documents denote the citizen’s name and date of residency, and declare that the citizen is due all rights and privileges.
Official documents carry the official Tillyville seal.
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On Monday Tilly instructs Skinny on the art of polishing silver. “Rubbing with silver polish and a soft cloth just gets rid of the tarnish, not the dance.” Chocolate Rat has his own ideas.
No question Tilly would rather work with bulldozers, but Tuesday the stone box needs painting, and Tilly is up to the task. Or is he?
Thursday: Skinny figures out a way to ease the tax bite. And ends up in jail.
Dorian's sister Audrey loves a good bedtime story, especially from Dorian, who makes them weird, scary and funny. Wear your P.J.'s Friday, and find out!
The Tale of Notgood
THEN IT STRUCK ME, people make their discoveries in the strangest ways: Isaac Newton understood gravity when hit in the head by an apple. Wonder what happens when you get hit by a Hm, this Saturday?
The Hm From Outer Space#2: Home on the Driving Range ☼
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Mystery of the Missing T’s
The Tillyville Village Council met in special emergency session this morning to discuss the disappearance of T’s from the Certificate of Citizenship. “I don’t get it,” Skinny McKinney said. “If the T’s disappeared, shouldn’t it be Cerifiae of Ciizenship?” “Easy for you to say,” said Rupert Rabbit with a smirk. “One thing for sure,” Geneva Owl said. “I don’t want to live in a town called Illyville.” Barn Rayburn smiled and Howie Howard guffawed. Loon Hawkins, seated between Barn and Howie, hooted. Rupert Rabbit, sitting behind Hawkins, punched him in the arm. “Illyville, that’s funny,” Loon Hawkins insisted. Rupert punched him again. “Ow.” “Did you call me?” Howie Howard asked. “No, I just—“ Rupert punched Hawkins a third time. “Order, please! I implore you,” Chocolate Rat told the group from the head of the table. He pounded his gavel with such force it sounded like wood splitting under an axe. “You tell ‘em, Choc,” said Loon Hawkins, rubbing the red spot on his arm. Chocolate Rat went to pound his gavel again, but he found he was holding only the handle. The mallet head had split from the stem and lay in Geneva Owl’s lap. Geneva picked up the wooden cylinder and shook her head slowly at Chocolate. “Sorry,” Chocolate Rat said sheepishly.
At this point Tilly Squirrel switched on the overhead projector. The
machine whirred. A slide blossomed upon the screen. “As you can see,” Tilly
said, wielding his pointer, “not all the T’s disappeared.” “I don’t see any disappeared T’s,” Howie Howard said. “You wouldn’t,” Loon Hawkins said. Rupert Rabbit drew back his arm, but Geneva Owl gave him a stern look, and Rupert scratched his head above his right ear. “The thief, or whoever or whatever it was, was very clever,” Tilly Squirrel said. He tapped the pointer meaningfully. “So who was this thief?” Rupert Rabbit asked, continuing to scratch his head. “I saw a couple of suspicious characters on the golf course the other day,” said Chuck Forearm, head of security at Tillyville’s Magnolia Golf Club. “That is so Last Week,” Skinny McKinney said. Forearm shrugged. “What exactly are these certificates?” Barn Rayburn wanted to know. “Geneva, could you explain?” Chocolate Rat said. “The Tillyville Certificates of Citizenship,” Geneva Owl began,” are for the people of Tillyville. Each person gets one. It says we are entitled to all rights and privileges.” “Hereby,” put in Skinny McKinney. “It says ‘hereby entitled.’ What does hereby mean?” “It’s supposed to be thereby,” Chocolate Rat said. “Ah,” Skinny said. “What does thereby mean?” “It means we have rights,” Loon Hawkins said. “And privileges,” Howie Howard added. “And we don’t have these rights and privileges if we don’t have thereby or hereby?” Barn Rayburn wanted to know. Howie shrugged. Loon shrugged. Rupert Rabbit scratched his head. Everyone looked at Tilly Squirrel. “Well,” he said, tapping his pointer, “interesting point. But it doesn’t help solve the problem of the missing T.” “Maybe it’s a silent T,” speculated Skinny McKinney. “Like in France,” said Rupert Rabbit, nodding sagely. “Exactly,” said Howie Howard. “There’s no T in France,” said Loon Hawkins. “Because in France they drink wine, silly,” said Howie Howard. Rupert made to punch Howie in the arm. Chocolate Rat made to pound his empty-headed gavel. Geneva Owl said, “I’d rather live in Illyville than in France,” and then she tittered. “That does it. That does it. This meeting is adjourned,” proclaimed Chocolate Rat, tapping his headless gavel on the table. Tilly Squirrel caught up to Howie and Loon in the city hall hallway a few moments later. “Hey, boys, where are you off to in such a hurry? Want to head over to the ball field, throw the old ball around?” “Can’t right now,” Howie said. “Me and Loon are going to play golf. “Yeah,” Loon said. “Yesterday a couple of guys sold us these ultra-biodegradable golf tees. Howie and me been itching to try them out.” ☼
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TILLYVILLE HOUSING
STARTS SKYROCKET:
A long-haired teen named Bobbo paused on the way to his friend's house at the north end of town, to watch a bulldozer busily making way for a tract of new housing.
"Just look at all the new houses, dude," he said, a bit dazed while nursing a golf ball-sized lump on his forehead, "they're like popping up out of thin air!"
Bobbo is one of many residents marveling at the splendid homes being built for a flood of new Tillyville citizens and subscribers. According to City Hall, all Tillyville subscribers will have free houses built for them, in a style and location of their choosing.
"Tillyville is all about the kids and parents who visit," said project contractor Darth Elbow. "You want a house? We build you a house!"
"The real beauty of this type of construction is it's enviro-friendly," Elbow said. "In place of lumber, we use pixels, colors and other naturally sustainable materials."
As befits their names, both Tilly Squirrel and Geneva Owl have gone on record supporting the tree-friendly measures. They were joined by the snake at the foot of the apple tree between the toy store and Pompadour's Barber Shop.
Tillyville citizens and prospective residents should visit the planning commission on the third floor of City Hall, where they can pick the street and site of their homes. Or, they may write to tilly@tillyville.com for zoning information.
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POLICE BLOTTER
JUNE 5: A pair of trespassers were chased from Tillyville's Magnolia Golf Course Saturday afternoon. The two men comprise an international ring of golf ball pilferers and recyclers, according to security guard Chuck Forearm. Forearm warned citizens to be on the lookout for contraband golf balls; the real ones, he said, "have all these amazing little dimples, I can stare at them for hours."
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LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
Dear
Tilly, ☼
OVERHEARD AT POMPADOUR'S BARBER SHOP
VISITOR IN BARBER'S CHAIR: How would you describe the rain in Tillyville?
POMPADOUR: Oh I don't know ... mostly small drops of water that fall from the sky.
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The Hm From Outer Space#1: Fore!
A field of stars across the silent vastness of space, like tiny jewels on a curtain of black velvet.
Breaking loose from its spot, one of the jewels begins floating sideways. As it moves across the glittering star-field, it gains speed and brightness.
The star speeds toward the gigantic hazy curve of planet below.
The object glows and shoots downward. Sparks fly behind it. Now it explodes into a white fireball with a flickering tail like a dragon's.
The meteor streaks through the planet's thick air pocket. Slashing through the atmosphere, the object cooks the nitrogen, carbon dioxide and oxygen around it.
Green vegetation stretches below: great trees, thick shrubbery, lush grasses. Creatures of all shapes and sizes: flying, running, digging, climbing. A pair of larger creatures stand on their two legs. One of them beside a pool of green liquid.
The object splashes into the pond.
WHASHHH!
"What the ...!" The golfer jumps at the noise and the water sloshing on his trousers. He shouts across the fairway: "Are you nuts? You could have killed me!"
He yells so loudly he doesn't hear the bubbles and steam rising from the water behind him.
"Sh-sh-shhh," the other golfer says, scurrying over. He pulls his cap down over his eyes, glancing from side to side. "They'll hear. You'll get us in trouble."
"I ought to wrap my three-iron around your neck, is what I ought to do. What's the idea of shooting through without warning me?"
"But I didn't," the second golfer says. He points back down the fairway. "My ball is out there somewhere, in that rough."
The first golfer grunts. Already he has removed his shoes and socks, and rolled up his pants to the knees. He is still grumbling when he wades into the pond.
"Hurry now," the second golfer says, joining him. "All this racket, they'll be here any minute."
"Shush."
"You shush." The second golfer reaches into the water. He pulls out a golf ball. "Titleist. Good one." He drops it in his pocket and plunks for another.
After a couple minutes, his pockets bulge. "Three Wilsons in a row," he says.
"Shush."
"You shush." He reaches and pulls out another. He rinses it back and forth in the water. "This is a strange one. Hm." He tosses it in the air a few times, feeling its weight on his palm. "Hey, get a load of this."
"Shush."
"You—" He stops talking when he spots a golf cart wheeling around a stand of trees. The driver wears a gray uniform.
The first golfer is already sloshing his way out the far end of the pond. The second golfer jams the thing in his pocket and splashes after him.
The two golfers run barefoot over the greens, toward the high bushes that ring the golf course. Behind them is a trail of golf balls that fall from their pockets like a round shiny breadcrumbs.
Story by John Mohler Jr.
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Wednesday: Chocolate Rat gets a
gig crooning a Cough Drops commercial on WJD, Tillyville’s radio station. And
he’s good at it. Too good! 
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