Winter Approaches Whispering Pines

Winter is coming to the town of Whispering Pines - the metropolis where quiet is a statute and silence is a virtue.  Most folks around here are busy getting their storm windows up and their winter coats shaken free of dust and spiders.  Here in the land of lofty balsams, excitement is mutely building for the annual, “First Snowfall Lottery,” sponsored by Jorgenson’s Mercantile and Hardware, “The Store That Keeps the Volume Low And the Quality High.”

Lottery tickets with dates between October 1 and December 1 are selling hot and heavy for fifty-cents apiece or two stuffed codfish. The grand prize is a one-year supply of goose grease from Jorgenson’s and all the Sven Svenson hand-hewed toothpicks one can carry.   In case of duplicate tickets, sold purposely for some unknown reason, winners shall be determined by silent auction, of course.

Lawn mowers are being retired for the winter and snowmobiles fired up.  Avid anglers are busy outfitting and customizing their ice fishing shanties for the coming season on Lake Minnie Whispers.  Stan Stinson, one of the more progressive of the anglers, is installing a big screen TV and a king size bed in his abode.  The shanty will also feature a wood-fired stove. When someone asked Stan what would happen if the stove melted the ice beneath him, he replied that his king size bunk would then become a waterbed.  That’s the kind of logic that makes this community so special.

Down at the Holy Mackerel Diner, much mumbling is occurring about the town’s newest nasty rumor.  Seems Ollie Olhasson, after sipping a bit too much of his pine needle wine, was caught stark naked in the middle of Johannson Street at three o’clock in the morning singing a bawdy Swedish folk song at the top of his lungs.  He is currently being held without bond in the city jail.  This is front-page news in Whispering Pines.  Criminal action such as this is tantamount to loud lip smacking in mixed company.  Old timers remember his father Oscar Olhasson, who was convicted of loud flatulent behavior in public back in the 1920’s.  Folks around here either sneak them out or not at all.  Obviously, this crime calls for a DNA investigation by the crack Whispering Pines CSI team.  Poor ole Ollie will be eating hard tack and sardines in the calaboose for a long time to come in this quiet little town, where the means are humble, and the chewing silent.