Page Three
 
NOOZ:  “Hello.”
Caller:  “Oh, yes, hello.  Nooz Phone?”
NOOZ:  “Yes, what's your name?”
Caller:  “Is this the Nooz phone?”
NOOZ:  “Yes, who's calling?”
Caller:  “Miedzyrzecz.”
NOOZ:  “Miedzyrzecz what?”
Caller:  “Miedzyrzecz von Chechowice-Dziedzice.”
NOOZ:  “That's quite a mouthful.  You wouldn't be
kidding us, would you?”
Caller:  “No, that's my name.”
   (PAUSE)
NOOZ:  “What do you do for a living?”
Caller:  “I'm the Dean of Polish primatology.”
NOOZ:  “Yes, but what do you do for a living?”
Caller:  “I go places and research things.”
   (PAUSE)
NOOZ:  “OK, what's on your mind?”
Caller:  “I really like Dr. Dick Doody's Cutting
Corner.”
NOOZ:  “Who doesn't?”
Caller:  “It's right on the cutting edge of medical
advice columns.”
NOOZ:  “Uh-huh.”
Caller:  “He has a mind as sharp as a scalpel...”
NOOZ:  “Uh-huh.”
Caller:  “...and razor sharp wit...”
NOOZ:  “Uh-huh.”
Caller:  “....and he slices right to the point.”
NOOZ:  “So, what did you call about?”
Caller:  “I don't think he should have been
suspended.”
NOOZ:  “What about the monkey-napping
charges?”
Caller:  “I think they made them up just to discredit
him.”
NOOZ:  “What about Sir Barclay Buffum?”
Caller:  “Who?”
NOOZ:  “Thanks for your opinion.  Next time, try to
call about something important rather than wasting
the time of the Nooz Phone.  Bye.”
fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
by Bill Measely, son of Sir Horton Measely
 
  Editor's note:  The hydrogen laser spotlight owned and  operated by Bill Measely, son of Sir Horton Measely,  had been fully checked out and was declared ready for  its next assignment when the Nooz building collapsed  and it was damaged again.  It's been a while getting it  back on line, but now it seems to be OK, so it's with  only slight trepidation that we hit the on switch and  quickly take a couple of giant steps backwards, as the  spotlight warms up and tries to focus on the tiny and  umapped African nation of Badongo-Gazimbi.....  
 
      Hi!  Bill Measely here, son of Sir Horton Measely,
the late inventor and former owner of the famous
hydrogen laser spotlight which I, his son and heir,
now own.  In this issue, publisher Arnett Putney, III
and executive editor Widen Lundale, Jr. have given us
the unenviable task of attempting to illuminate for our
many readers the tiny, unmapped African nation of
Badongo-Gazimbi, about which we admit to knowing
very little, so we'd better get right down to it.  The
spotlight is a bit loose in its mounting just now and
seems to be swinging a little more than usual, causing
its hot 1250° beams to sweep willy-nilly across
Badongo-Gazimbi and into neighboring Jujube and
Flemish SE Africa, but I and my engineers will do our
best to stay on top of this pesky problem.
      As the varied landscapes of primeval Africa begin
to come into view before our unblinking gaze, we can
see small conflagrations springing up here and there,
produced no doubt by the near sun-like heat of the
spotlight.  Native bucket brigades rush hither and
thither trying to cope with the fires and animals flee in
panic as we narrow our focus and zoom in on the small
republic of Badongo-Gazimbi, still waiting patiently to
be recorded on the maps of the world.
(Cont. on page 4)         
 
 
REPORT FROM THE FIELD
By Eric Scotmeister Fleiglehaus		 Greetings from the green and unruly forests of northern Bali-Bali. You probably don't even know where Bali-Bali is, but that doesn't matter since I do, and I'm here.  So sit back in your favorite chair, kick off your shoes, grab a Guinness and enjoy, because this is my.....“Report from the Field.”
      I arrived here on Wednesday deep in the heart of the green and unruly forests of northern Bali-Bali, scene of the main search effort for missing Professor Mitsuo Ohhohoho, and I've been hard at work writing my “Report from the Field” ever since.  It was a bit of a nuisance getting here because the international registration on my car had expired and it was impounded in Jakarta, but I managed to rent a leaky native boat to take me and my suitcases to Bali-Bali, the world's thirty-sixth largest island.  Once there, I was forced to hitch a ride on a banana truck to the remote jungle village of Pasirbogor, where an elephant carried me the rest of the way to Camp Basang Teneng, headquarters of the search team led by Senhor Teófilo Afonso Rosario Sobradinho, South America's premier primate biologist and something of a gobo root expert.
      When I got here, it was suggested that I not get in the way, so I dragged my suitcases into the back of the guest tent, had a cup of hot water, and went to bed.  On Thursday and Friday a monsoon swept over Bali-Bali, inundating the already muddy and moss-laden forests and temporarily interrupting the team's tight schedule.  The searchers worked diligently all day Saturday attempting to clean up the mess and were too busy to answer my questions, but on Sunday I overheard someone say that if Professor Ohhohoho had indeed ever been on Bali-Bali, he was no longer, and that the group was preparing to leave for Tasmania.  By this time I was getting ready to depart as well, under a deadline as always to file my “Report,” and anxious also to get my car back to Hellmouth, where I'm going to put it up for auction.
      That's about it for this issue.  I guess the mystery of Mitsuo Ohhohoho will have to remain unsolved at least a little while longer.  Next time I'm going to buy another old used car and try to make it to the Ipululu Primate Conservation Center where I will hopefully be interviewing Dr. Watanabe Kibombo, who has made a career out of studying the lowly but important toilet claw.  So until then, I'll just say “So long.”
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