A Grim Fairy Tale

Happy New Year News by Sister Grim

Once upon a time it was a new year in the city of Chicago, located, as ewesual, in the sorry cheapskate state of Ill-A-Noise, and the membersheep of the CTEwe were getting ready to return to their respective attendance centers — oops, schools, albeit with a certain degree of resignation.

“I must admit, I was happier a few weeks ago, when we were just starting our vacations,” said Ewenice, who was still Toonice for her own good.

“True,” agreed Millicent Militant. “But look at the bright side. We’re almost halfway through the school year. Only 24 weeks to go.”

“Oh, that’s a terrible thought,” said Ewenice, who was even more depressed now. “That’s what I get for meeting anyone from school on the outside.”

“You make it sound like we’re in jail, Ewenice,” laughed Millicent as she sipped her Staaarbucks. “But I think things are actually looking up for us.”

“You? Really? Like where?”

“Well, I think we will have more friends in Sssspringfield .”

“How true,” boomed Scott Skeptic, journalism teacher-in-exile, laaatte in hand. “We certainly paid enough for them.”

“But what about the politicians here?” whined Nancy Naïve. “Are they going to be supportive?” She stopped and looked annoyed. “What is everyone laughing at?”

“It’s difficult for non-natives to grasp the political situation here, Nancy. Chicago politics is just another professional sport. Except that most of the players wind up in jail.”

“But it’s not their fault,” said Millicent, sarcastically.

“But it doesn’t hurt their chances for re-election,” added Clara Clark, the clerk.

“And the Chicago Fifty just got a nice big raise,” Scott reminded them.

“’The Chicago Fifty’?” queried Nancy confusedly.

“Our aldermen, Nancy. We have fifty wards in the city, with an alderman for each one. They make up the city council, and they wield a lot of power.”

“But I thought the Mayor was in charge,” she whined.

“That he is, Nancy. Li’l Hizzoner is very much in charge of the council because by now, with aldermanic vacancies due to prison terms being served, and other minor details, he has been able to appoint aldermen to complete the terms of the incarcerated incumbents,” explained Scott. “And they usually vote his way.”

“Right,” they all agreed, as they sipped their coffees and discussed more pleasant things.

Once upon a time there was a lot of activity at CTEwe Headquarters North, which was actually in Evanston, but who’s counting? It was also Ex-CTEwe Headquarters, to be accurate, since everyone there was a member of the deposed former leadersheep of the CTEwe. There was an aura of gloom in the room.

“What’s wrong now?” screeched Pammy Pretty, as Tom Reece scowled in the corner.

“She’s everywhere. And I heard they don’t even have to pay for the articles. They actually want to interview her and they really want to print her letters,” he said sadly, shaking his head.

“Right, boss,” chirped Teddy the Obsequious Toady, self-anointed as the next self-appointed Pee-Yu President of the CTEwe. As if. “There was a big story about her in Newssqueak last week, and a wonderful article in the Scabune Magazine a while ago, with pictures and everything” he burbled. “And there was that one in Education Week, and the Reader — “

“Shut up!!” hissed Pammy as she tried to strangle him. “You’re making things worse. Be quiet now!!”

“But I was just agreeing with the Boss,” said Teddy. “She does get her letters printed and stuff. Not that they’re any good,” he added quickly.

“Since I’m really not ready for forced retirement, I need something worthwhile to do,” said Tom. “So I think maybe I should run for Mayor. You know, the little guy isn’t feeling so good these days. Maybe he needs a rest from all the pressure. And just think of that nice office on da fift’ floor,” he mused.

“You aren’t serious, I hope,” yelled Pammy, whose softest vocal setting was fortissimo.

“Why not?” said Tom, crestfallen. “I thought you, of all people, would support me. You can be the assistant Mayor,” he suggested enticingly.

“There is no such position,” she snapped.

“I’ll create one. Don’t worry. Once I’m elected, I can do anything I want. And the first thing will be to shoot down that upstart Debbie at the CTEwe. In MY office, using MY stuff, sitting in MY chair at MY desk. In charge of MY meetings. Articles and appearances all over the place. I. CAN’T. STAND. IT!!” he thundered. “What makes her think she can get away with it?”

“But Boss, she won the election fair and square. We didn’t get to count the baaallots this time, and you know what happened,” said Teddy as he successfully evaded Pammy’s grasp on his neck.

“There will be no raises, no strikes, and a crummier contraaact than the last one. I can see it now,” he murmured dreamily.

Pammy was pensive as she pondered the possibilities of power. “Hmmm,” she said. “Maybe it’s not such a far-fetched idea after all. Let me think.”

All the staff members and indentured servants at CTEwe North secretly breathed a collective sigh of relief as Pammy retired to her office. It was blissfully quiet. For a while.

Then, the door crashed open, and she screeched, “Where are you going to get 25,000 signatures by next week? That’s the deadline!! You just know that Da Mare and his minions are going to use a microscope on every signature on every single petition sheet.”

“Like you always told us to do with those other candidates?” asked Teddy. “So we could disqualify everybody?”

“SHUT UP, TED!! Don’t say another word until I say it’s OK. Got it?”

Teddy was clutching his ears in pain. “Whaat? I can’t hear anything. My ears are ringing. I think I’ve been struck deaf!” he wailed.

“Deaf and dumb,” mumbled Pammy.

“Get everyone out here now,” she commanded. “You,” she pointed, “Get to City Hall and get the petitions! You over there, get to Office Maaax and buy lots of different pens!”

“Pens?” asked the hapless helper.

“PENS!!” she screamed. “Baaallpoint!! Gel ink! Roller baaalls! Fountain pens! Different colors of ink — blaaack, blue, some red. Fine and medium point. Go now and hurry baaack.”

“You!!” she pointed at another. “Go into the city and steal some current phone books.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am,” he said apologetically.

“WHY NOT??”

“I’m just here to fix the copier.”

“Do it anyway!!” she demanded as he scurried out with the others.

Once upon a time the lights burned late into the night at CTEwe North; people were frantically scribbling signatures on the mayoral petition forms in a valiant attempt to fulfill the minimum requirements.

“My hands are falling asleep,” complained one.

“My pens are out of ink,” said another.

“I can’t see any more,” said someone else.

“Stop your whining!!” screeched Pammy. “Get to work!!” She noticed a raised hand in the back of the room. “WHAT IS IT??” she snapped.

“May I please leave now?” asked the copier man. “My shift ended six hours ago,” he added plaintively.

Pammy smiled. Which was not necessarily a good thing. Actually, it was downright scary sometimes. Like now. “SIT DOWN AND GET BACK TO WORK,” she ordered.

“Lady, I don’t even know who you are. I’m leaving,” he said bravely as he walked away from the frantic signature factory.

“You know,” mused Teddy, “except for that guy leaving, this reminds me of all the other petition parties we had.”

Pammy whirled around. “Ted, don’t say another word. Unless I’ve written it down for you ahead of time, BE QUIET. Got it?”

“That’s no way to talk to the next president of the CTEwe,” Teddy retorted. “I’m revolting,” he added, standing up for emphasis.

“How true,” laughed Pammy.

Once upon a time, the membersheep of the CTEwe had returned to work when they heard the news about the additional mayoral candidate.

“Whaaat?” said some.

“Tom who?” said others.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Scott as the others nodded in agreement.

“Let’s look at the bright side,” said Ewenice.

“Right,” added Millicent. “Tom can’t print the ballots, and he can’t count the baaallots, and he can’t skew the results. I’d say he’s met his match here. This will be fun to watch.”

“Oh, I see,” they said. “O.I.C.”