But where did the body go? And what’s that silver hair doing on that pillow?
Hey—has anyone noticed that another TEN citizens have moved to Dopeville since this thread started this morning?
“Dopeville—a nice place to raise the kids!”
. . . But get them bulletproof vests if they have to go anywhere near the clock tower . . .
Ah ha!
Trip Stoneway’s gonna start pulling over the single women in this town until he finds a hottie.
Let’s just see how “creative” you ladies can be when your driving privileges are in MY hands…
Well, I’ve finally figured out what I do. I’m the Hottie Truck Driving Mama (thanks Flyp!) who delivers supplies to Olentzero. And then I wander over to the bar and have a few drinks.
Of course, I drive recklessly, since I secretly have a crush on Trip Stoneway. Pull me over!
Good…nobody took “Morning Radio Announcer” I’ll read poetry, play show tunes and I’ll bring back “Suspence Theater” and “The Shadow”.
And you…you can be the station intern. Do you like cigars?
Of course, I’ll remain the town crackhead too.
By the way, as the town politician I am in the market for a mistress. The main qualifications would be someone willing to do as many blatantly tawdry deeds as possible, a good profile for the papers, and a willingness to cavort about on the bandstand in the park downtown. Must be willing to be decadent and demure.
Mulitple applications accepted, videos encouraged.
Well, it’s obvious . . . .
I’m the quiet, honest small-town lawyer who places scruples above personal gain. I was born and raised in this town. I have an office above the general store with my name etched on the door. I have lunch at the cafe every day, even when some townspeople express disapproval because I’m defending Shirley’s right to teach evolution, or because I’m defending Ike from the latest assault charges. I bail you people out of jail; write your wills; and draw up your contracts. I have a daughter named Scout. She plays with that odd Capote kid from across the street.
Once a month or so, it all becomes to much and I go down to the Bar (where Swiddles hangs out, BratMan bounces, jubei2k and ShadowFox sing karaoke, Sue Duhnym waits tables, Shayna sings, Reservoir Dog washes glasses, Aenea tends bar, John Larrigan runs the joint and Coldie owns it) and get liquored up. The regulars tactfully ignore my ravings about narrow-minded small-town life, and John Larrigan makes sure I get home safe at the end of the night. Who would live anywhere else?
You keep it up, wiseass, and I’ll take my business elsewhere! Number one rule : Never antagonize your best customer. 
Your wicked ways may seem like a lot of fun now, but have you ever considered the eternal consequences?
Do you want to burn in hell for eternity?
Repent you sinners! Drag your souls back from the edge of the abyss! Come to our revival! The tent is pitched right on the north side of the fairgrounds. Or just send a donation.
And stay away from that wicked librarian’s so-called “book club”! Especially Wednesday’s from 3 to 4 p.m.
– Rev. Dimmesdale
Yeah, but half of them are probably trolls. We NEVER should have build that stone bridge just outside of town.
Silly, you’re usually to drunk to remember, but I would say half the time you end the night with “Crazy” by Patsy Cline.
But I join you for either one. 
I’m the local war vet pilot who lives behind his hangar at the old dirt strip north of town.
Kids ride their bikes out to see me after school and in the Summer. I keep them spellbound with stories of dog fights and hair raising close calls, as I tinker with my Stearman.
Every once in awhile I can be talked into giving someone a ride.
Every Veterans’ Day, I walk in the parade in my uniform, and get damp eyed as I do an ‘eyes right’ past the reviewing stand and our flag.
I’m the retired sea captain, living in the mansion at the top of the hill with my 22-year-old third wife.
I say, “Ahar, ye scurvy dogs” a lot.
I am the guide to the seedy underworld. I own and operate practically everything in the local sex industry. I have the infamous beaver tongue vibrator and the Poke-a-hontas vibrator for all sorts of delights. On my spare time I run the local escort service and the local bathouse. I keep logs and files of everyone that uses my services unbeknownst to my patrons and regularly contact the FBI and CIA with my findings. One day you all will be in trouble but thanks to my deal with the feds, I will never be prosecuted and after my pretty nest egg gets built up completely and the prosecution begins, the witness protection program and my own wealth will live in the lap of luxury in some other dinky midwest town where I will start my cycle again.
OH, and on my off time I visit Coldy in the bar. He is the patron who likes my escorts the best except they almost always leave his place drunk or stoned. 
HUGS!
Sqrl
Unfortunately, though you secretly pine for me, you have no respect for me because I let NothingMan (whom I nominate as the town White Knight) take me into the store-room on my 29th birthday to cheer me up.
Hey ChiefScott, who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
Hmm . . . I guess this isn’t a place where I can just teach the little ones, eh?
Then I’ll be the annoying teenager who listens in on everyone’s conversations and thinks everything is a sexual innuendo. Damnit, if I’m going to do someting, I wanna be good at it!
It’s gonna be really hard to sing with a band that doesn’t exist. Don’t we have any musicians and backup singers here? Falcon, wanna play tambourine and sing with me?
Hey pun, remember from the other thread I offered to…“deflower” you. Wanna see the inside of my truck?
I’d probably be the town’s peeping tom/flasher. In other words, your proverbial pervert. I could also sub during week-ends if the job’s already taken.