Each year, we at The Independent become just slightly unhinged around the beginning of April. We hope you enjoy reading our foolishness as much as we enjoy creating it.
CEO turns Edgewood down cold on sewer refund
Edgewood wants its money back for the sewer system it’s been trying to get into place for 15 years—but the manufacturer of the “lego-style” snap-together system said no way.
The company, Sukapnch, said that because Edgewood has taken the sewer up to re-route it now seven times since it was first installed, there are pieces and seals missing and to make it worse, the town lost the instruction manual. “Sorry, Edgewood,” said CEO, S.K.S. Tubeyu. “After two or three times, maybe. But you all just can’t quit fighting over where to put the blocks and I’m pretty sure a former mayor or two took a few key pieces home just to mess with you. The sale is final and that’s final.”
In response, the town council spent six hours debating whether or not they should move the sewer line back to its Route 66 configuration “one last time.” In the end they took no action.
School district changes mean kids can finally nap
The Moriarty-Edgewood School District, facing an ever-increasing line of budget cuts from its state and federal funders, has furloughed all administrators and taken an innovative approach to school governance.
Effective immediately, all high school classes will start at 10 a.m., with high school getting out around supper. This fits with the natural circadian rhythms of teenagers, and it is expected that the drop-out rate will decrease and the students will get better grades. In addition, the teens will get an hour-long lunch break for napping, snogging, and let’s face it, napping.
Elementary schools will be increasing the amount of daily recess dramatically. Children will be able to play on the playground first thing in the morning before school. Around mid-morning, class will pause for potty breaks and more playing outside. Yelling and screaming will be encouraged. Lunch will last an hour for all students, with time after eating to be spent running around outside. Mid-afternoon will bring another running break, or for those kids tuckered out by the day’s events, a nap.
The measures are expected to reduce classroom disruption and frustration, and to bring up grades, according to District Superintendent Tom Minivan, who opined, “We corral students into a classroom and expect them to sit down and shut up. Our results have not been so hot. What will happen if we let them run and shout? Good things.”
The changes came up through the ranks from student government, with class presidents around the school district petitioning the school board for improved conditions. Route 66 Elementary 4th-grader and student body president Imma Smartie led the charge. “Next we go after homework!” she declared at a school pep rally.
Tijeras, emboldened, bans all dog breeds
Emboldened by its breed-specific ban recently getting shot down by a service dog named Waldo, Tijeras is doubling down and banning all breeds of dogs from the village.
“Dogs can bite. Everybody knows dogs can bite and some of them bite really hard,” said Mayor Gloriosa Chavez. “Really hard,” she added.
The new ordinance means it is now illegal to own a dog in the village. It is also illegal to walk a dog through the village or to mention the “dog days” of summer within earshot of village hall. Possession of a leash or dog dish or other suspicious paraphernalia will result in misdemeanor charges and an investigation by the TDP, the Tijeras Dog Patrol.
The group is headed up by Meowdeline “Crazy Cat Lady” Nodoggziz, who claims that despite her name, her nickname, and her longstanding hatred of all things canine due to a bad marriage she doesn’t want to talk about, and her kittens hazzing cheezbrgerz blog, that she will be impartial in discharging her duties. In an unrelated small-town twist, Nodoggziz is the mayor’s hairdresser by day.
Catacombs contain town’s financial files
The Torrance County Archaeological Club discovered a series of catacombs underneath Estancia recently when they were called in as expert witnesses as town personnel fruitlessly searched for missing financial records.
The catacombs can be accessed through the basement at the town hall. After losing six town clerks in the space of two years at the bottom of several flights of steep stairs into a shadowy and cobweb-strewn storage area, the town called in the Club to investigate.
After the group of mostly octegenarians strapped on gear ala “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” they descended one by one into the dusty abyss, according to a nearby witness.
One man ran emerged to run screaming from the scene, babbling incoherently about financial files strewn willy nilly among the bones of what this witness speculated must be the former clerks.
The tunnels honeycomb the area below the town, connecting the high school to the senior center, showing evidence of a thriving drug trade. The old supermarket is linked to the catacombs as well, and was discovered to be currently housing an alien-watching outpost, full of computers and stuff. At least that’s what the aforementioned and totally reliable witness said.
Estancia’s town council decided to take an “ain’t broke, don’t fix it” approach to its recent audit, and is currently searching for a town clerk. Interested parties should send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Windy Boys blown away but gassed up and ready
Winds screamed through the East Mountains and Estancia Valley last week as spring made its appearance in the area.
The wind leads to a local phenomenon known colloquially as Bat Sh*t Crazy Days. During the annual festival celebrating and cursing the wind, a band called Windy Boys had to cancel its show after the bandstand blew down into the Bachelor Draw. The intrepid band members clung to what was left of their instruments and howled like banshees at the sky in what audience members thought was part of the show. In actuality, the band had just seen its life savings—in the form of musical equipment and instruments—carried away by the blustery gustery gusts, and were shedding real tears. A getfundsyo account was set up, which blew away records and got the band blowing wind again in no time.
Moriarty decides to go green for tax revenue
The City of Moriarty decided to take a leaf from Colorado’s book, and legalized recreational marijuana within city limits. The town, already known for its hospitality, wants to increase tourism along Historic Route 66 and draw more people into town.
Building from the city of Amsterdam’s longstanding pot tourism industry, followed by Colorado’s burgeoning pot tourism trade, the city decided it was time to cash in on some of that green.
To that end, it redid the city zoning ordinance, creating a GR zone to allow a plethora of cannabis-related products, from brownies and cookies to plant buds with unpronounceable and ridiculous names; all of the products will now be featured on the city’s website, which has been redone in shades of green to enhance the town’s new persona.
City leaders are expecting the numbers of angry constituents with nothing better to do on a Wednesday evening than grouse at their city council to decrease dramatically, as those constituents will likely decide instead to binge-watch Netflix.
Moriarty’s Mayor, Ted Smart, said cryptically, “Times, they are a’changing, man.”
Mountainair mosaics plastering town over
Mountainair has become locally famous for the mosaics that have cropped up all over town, thanks to artist Tomás Lobo, who never stops searching for surfaces to plaster over with bits of colored glass, stones and bric-a-brac.
Lobo started up a mosaic club in town, which became so popular that soon, mosaic art had sprung up all over town, decorating businesses and government buildings alike. So many projects have been undertaken by the club that the small town ran out of buildings to mosaic almost immediately. Undeterred, Lobo turned his eye to the roadways, and the group is planning to create a mosaic—during off-hours, when approximately one car per day goes through town—to turn the roads into pieces of art to include the road names. That last bit was a piece of genius that meant the art mosaic club could get a grant from the state, and count the art project as road signs.