$300,000 for a freakin’ town?! Man, there are parking spaces in Boston that cost more than that.
Anyone got a link to the details on the town? If Mrs. Lagomorph and I sold our house we could probably swing it. Then I could be the benevolent seeming but actually corrupt and malevolent guy that owns everything.
DIBS!!!
In fact, I’ll give you a twofer, as my wife can double as the crazy man’s long-suffering wife who nobody ever sees.
And if we could tranport our house in its present state…
How about 'Tis Dopia?
No? But it’s spoonerific!..
I volunteer to be the mysterious drifter with the heart of gold, who comes in during the middle of the night in order to clean up the town. Originally, I’ll just be passing through, but soon I’ll be won over by the charm of the place, and stay on for a while. And maybe find me a fine-lookin’ Doperette in the process.
Oh, but I’ll need musicians to follow me around playing foreboding music, and a plucky wise-cracking protige who, in the event of my death, will swear revenge and become everything I ever was and more.
Everyone knows, the grumpy old man in the barber shop needs someone to play checkers with, and I’m that guy… The Checker Playing Guy.
What about the rebel that no one likes, but ends up saving the town from some horrible disaster? Anyone got a leather jacket? I’ve already got too much on my plate, but I’d be willing to loan mine out for special “Town-in-peril” events.
stv, great idea about the paper. The name should be either something really stately or something cringe-inducing corny. Can I have a regular column? I promise I’ll restrict it to small-town topics such as the weather and humorous vegetables, rather than anything big and thought-provoking.
I definitely volunteer to be the town floozy. I’ve got years of experience!
What? What?
Oh.
Something stately… How about The Statesman? We could call it The x Statesman, where x is whatever name we come up with for the town…
I like the x Statesman. My first duty as publisher will be to work out some sort of deal with the Chicago Reader to get Cecil’s column in it. Maybe if we name the town Cecilville, Mr. Adams would pull some strings and allow us to run it in the Statesman for free. 
stv
Can I be the dance hall girl/town floozy too ? Even in a small town you can never have too many semi-talented floozies. I see the town being somewhat like the one in the movie Blazing Saddles.I want to be the character that Madeline Kahn played. I think her name was Lilly Von Stumph.
er…that’s von Shtup (with the “u” sounding like the “oo” in “book”) - it’s yiddish for “doing the nasty”.
Oo! Oo! Can I be the down Doc? IANAD, but I don’t know that frontier doctors necessarily went to medical school, and I always wanted the nickname “Doc”. I can be the thoughtful friend of the sheriff who, when called upon, will strap on his six-shooter of justice to help face down Black Bart.
This could be fun!
er…that’s von Shtup (with the “u” sounding like the “oo” in “book”) - it’s yiddish for “doing the nasty”.
Oo! Oo! Can I be the down Doc? IANAD, but I don’t know that frontier doctors necessarily went to medical school, and I always wanted the nickname “Doc”. I can be the thoughtful friend of the sheriff who, when called upon, will strap on his six-shooter of justice to help face down Black Bart.
This could be fun!
Since Dopesville has apparently been sent back to the 1880s, I guess my first choice of being proprietor of the movie theater is out. I suppose I can be the guy who holds the ridiculously large pile of flash powder for the cameraman.
If the newspaper becomes the Statesman, I’d say the masthead needs to include that fine old quotation from Opus T. Penguin:
A statesman is a dead politician. Lord knows, we need more statesmen.
I run the town Novelty Store: Bab’s Fun-o-Rama
It’s 3:00 am and you need a rubber chicken? Bab’s Fun-o-Rama
Just used your last rubber dog poo? Bab’s Fun-o-Rama
Need an emergency Dribble Glass? Bab’s Fun-o-Rama
Is your Mr T paraphenalia running low? Bab’s Fun-o-Rama
Cheap mail order exploding cigars not getting you all the laffs you crave? Bab’s Fun-o-Rama
“You knew it had to come down to this.”
After those words left Zappo’s lips, an eerie silence descended on The Town To Be Named Later. The only sound that could be heard was “Glug, Glug, … Hic … SPLASH!” as UncleBeer fell dead drunk from the boardwalk into the horse trough. Luckily for him, a drifter with a heart of gold named Jester cared enough to pull his head out of the trough so he wouldn’t drown.
Main Street was deserted except for two lone figures, and a tumbling tumbleweed (brought to you by the redundancy department). However, the boardwalk was filled with the townfolk of The Town To Be Named Later, who were frozen in a mixture of fear and awe as the two man stood face to face about 20 paces away from each other.
“You messed with my sheep.” said the larger of the two figures. He was dressed in blue jeans, a nondescript shirt, and a 3/4 length duster coat that blew softly in the wind.
“Tell it to the mods. I needed to make a nice roast lamb in a reduced wine/rosemary sauce.” What he gave up in size, the other figure made up in ominousnessnessness. He was dressed completely in black, except for a flurry of buttons on his vest, which included the Batman call signal, and a Comic Book Lovers Do It With Imagination.
The tableau was temporarily ruined by a loud roar as a Harley came barreling down the street. ShibbOleth only stopped long enough to throw a beautifully disheveled GKW on the back of Hog and drive off.
“You’re the sheriff, do something,” Fionn begged of Ferrous.
“I can’t handle something this big.” Ferrous said. “It’s been brewing for years. This town just ain’t big enough for two…”
Sccchhhhhttttwwack! A checker flew from blur’s hand. “No cliches!” He screamed, and then went back to looking intently at his game.
“Nobody messes with my sheep.” The figure’s voice went lower, as his hand went to his waist.
“And everybody knows they’re nothing but sluts, and I ain’t no gopher” rejoined the man in black. His hand hovering by his waist also. “I can write secret deaths, as well as secret origins.”
The entire town gave a huge, collective gasp. {b]El Elvis Rojo** sat down heavily on the boardwalk. Lightnin’ and White Lightin made sure everyone in town knew they weren’t actually the same person. stv began to furiously take notes. He hadn’t had this big of a story since Stoid and december destroyed each other under a huge fluffy of partisan pamphlets.
“That’s a lotta bold talk for a geek.” said the larger figure. He pulled his duster away from his hip.
Nobody spoke. Nobody even breathed. They knew it had to come to this. But they didn’t know how it would end. Nobody did.
I can run the whorehouse.
Or at least play piano in it.
Semi-talented floozies, auditions for the live nude cabaret are now open.
I’m a big believer in civil service. I therefore wish to be the local **Rabbi ;j , the local EMS Director of Services, and last but so surely not least, the owner of the ** Bijoux Movie Palace. Unlike the GooglePlexes out near the Interstate, my Palace is a one-screen homage to all that we loved from our childhoods.
Not only do we use real butter and real cappuccino beans, we use real velvet on the seats and we have a flagstone lobby floor. We stock Goldenberg’s Peanut Chews, therefore assuring the undying adoration of film lovers throughout the villiage.
The air is never too cold, and the sound and focus are checked as each screening begins. There are lots of open areas for wheelchair seating, and the entire place has been retrofitted with every amenity, not to mention the Defibrillator that’s kept charged in the office. 
Thank god we all know the name of the town’s Alternative Newspaper…** The Chicago Reader**. 
Volunteers welcome, come one come all. I’ve arranged a recruitment drive at the Bijoux, to go with the EMS Film Festival. The pilot of the t.v. show “Emergency” will be screened, along with “The Poseidon Adventure”, “Towering Inferno”, “Bringing Out The Dead” and of course, “Mother, Jugs and Speed”.
Cartooniverse
Well, there’s two calls for a movie theater, so I guess it’s going to have to be built. That’s okay, I love movies. But seeing as how we’re so back water, I think it’s only going to be able to play silent films, with the occassional “talkie” played on Saturday evenings (hey, you gotta make it special, ya know?).
We also need old bitties. Now, do we want the type who sit around and gossip, or are we looking more for the solitary old widow who solves murders? (word of advice, if we go for the latter, DON’T INVITE HER TO PARTIES. Unless you want someone dead, of course).
Oh, and Hamlet, nice story (even if I did have first dibs on sherriff and you didn’t bold my name. No, I’m not bitter. Just remember who provides your booze ).
Ok, I’ll be the big land owner at the edge of town… wait a minute…
The big landowner always gets dead at the end…
Never mind…