Heh this conjurs up images of “Waiting for Guffman”
I’m the flaky, slightly scandalous divorcee who goes to the grocery store in really bright funky clothes(You know, a fuschia and lime sundress and a big floppy hat covered in flowers). All the little old ladies start whispering whenever I pass by.
Everyone thinks I’m having an affair with Mr. Cynical. Actually, we’re really good friends (sorry, I don’t have enough money to keep someone 
) I secretly have a crush on BurnMeUp.
B_Line12: Goddamned kids today! Always running around with their motorcycles and their shennanigans and hootenanies! Why, back in my day, we always respected our elders! Damned whippersnapper! (begins whittling furiously)
Mojo: Ayep, they was bad, but you should’ve been around back in December of nineteen hundred and ninety-nine. Why, we had some of the biggest, orneriest trolls ever seen this side of Lake Macon bridge. Damn kids today ain’t never seen trolls that size, think they’re all legends, but I seen 'em, and by God, hope I ne’er have to agin.
Since I get to have a municipal office, and since I just watched Chinatown on DVD last night, I choose to be head of Water and Power. That’s where all the excitement is.
I am the incorruptible engineer that will refuse to cooperate with the devious crooked schemes of other city council members. My beautiful, passionate, yet confused wife worships me because I’ve saved her from a fate worse than death. There is currently some skullduggery afoot in our happy little town but I am on the case. I’m off to check the river channels now and I should be back in time for dinner. Tomorrow I have a big speech at Town Hall where I can denounce the cupidity and foolishness of the new dam supporters.
Burn gets a free book from the BookNook for mentioning Waiting for Guffman. And, as the position hasn’t been taken yet, I hereby declare myself the Corky St. Claire of Doperville. The Community Players will next be staging a musical version of Doris Day’s life story, entitled “I Shoot Smack…Just kidding!”
I’ll be the new in town school teacher that wants to teach the youngsters about evolution. After the uproar and court drama die down, I will then try to teach these impressionable youngsters sex education.
Anybody need to rent a chair?
Do I get to dump the occasional drink in your lap?
Ridicule you mercilessly?
Heckle your singing (unless you’re doing Sinatra)?
Get pissy whenever you hit on other chicks because I secretly dig you?
If so, then yes…you may be the bane of my existence.
Oh I almost foprgot… from time to time, men in black lincolns come to town in fancy “city boy” suits and ask questions about me, but no one really knows much about me, since i keep to myself.
I shall be eternally refered to as Cletus, the village idiot.
As it turns out, most people in this town spend their time at the local bar and diner, so the video rental store folds, leaving me unemployed. I then have to change jobs.
So, thanks to my military training in hand-to-hand combat, I get a job as a bouncer at the bar where jubei2k (while singing karaoke drunk) constantly hits on Sue Duhnym the slutty cocktail waitress in the tight t-shirt where Shayna sings, Reservoir Dog washes glasses for Bartender Aenea, and ShadowFox does weekend Karaoke that is owned by Coldfire but run by John Larrigan.
Who knew that Memorial Day cock-fights wouldn’t go over?
- Your Chamber Director
Maybe if you had used roosters. . .
Jeez, what is with you guys? You’ve left out one of the most important jobs.
Me? I’m the town pharmacist/general store owner/postmaster. Gotcher palliatives and your everyday needs right here under one roof. Seeds, too. Great afternoon hangout for the kids, get a rootbeer float and some penny candy before they hit the sandlot for a pickup baseball game. Of course, for those times on the weekends when the library ain’t open quite yet (that book club meeting did let out pretty late!) I have the complete set of Mayor Cecil’s Straight Dope books and an informal archive of the columns.
Huh? Whatcha say? Oh, them papers over in the corner? Big city paper, name of Socialist Worker. Cost ya 50 cents a copy, but 's a damn sight better read than the Times or the Post. Blasted boozhie hackrags…
Oh, dear God, that was funny.
I’m losing my battle with Barnes & Nobles. The expresso machine is a bust, I burned myself trying to steam milk this morning. I officially resume the Cliff Clavin position at Coldie’s. (which JohnLarrigan runs, Shayna sings at, etc.)
Yeh know, Sammy, the ancient Egyptians were the first brewers of beer? Ah, bless their industrious souls.
All the bar jobs are gone . 
Ok , I’ll live off my inheritance .
Hey, John/Coldfire can I be the Norm to your Sammy/Rebecca ?
I’m the quiet girl at the corner table in Coldie’s bar(where everyone in town spends all of their time)
you’ve probably never noticed me…
My fondest wish is that some nice guy will notice me and sweep me off my feet.
Hmmmm…what can I do. Any suggestions?
The Fire Chief/Sheriff gig is just a cover. When I’m not saving cats and arresting pooper scooper violaters or demoralizing the community with the Book Club, I run an underground casino at Coldies. I slip BratMan a little of the take and in return he lets in only the citizens with real money. That shady board chairman for instance. Coldfire of course is always at the poker table (different poker table than the one used over at the book club meetings) which is why John Larrigan has to run the joint and deal with all the local yahoos singing and drinking.
John is really frustrated because SwimmingRiddles won’t shutup about how the Babylonians are the reason modern society is how it is.
Coldfire’s up $3600.
I tried to tel him! At least my bruises have healed now.