JUNIOR BACON Orange in November? Sorry boys, Halloween was last week.

“I have to admit I was a little disappointed,” admitted Manassas housewife Thelma Russel. “I thought they might show up in some snazzy three-piece suits with silk handkerchiefs in the pocket, you know. Like Al Capone in that commercial for condoms. Something stylish that suggests they’re above it all, you know? The kinds of guys you love to hate, but admire in spite of yourself. But these guys? Sheesh. I wouldn’t even leave the house looking like that. Didn’t they know they were going to be on TV? I guess it just says something about the state of our criminals these days. Pretty sad.”

Muhammad, the supposed mastermind behind the duo’s shooting spree, looked like he had failed to master the bathroom mirror that morning, sporting a nappy hairdo to make Kobe Bryant proud. A shaving kit had apparently also eluded him, as well as the fundamental principles of beauty rest. Too many nights spent on the lamb had left his eyes sporting more bags than a Tony Bennett concert, and this reporter suspects the county hoosegow must have been fresh out of cucumber wraps that week.

Muhammad’s one “E” for effort came in the posture department, a welcome relief from his partner Malvo’s parade of slouches. While Muhammad often looked like he had just sat on a fireplace poker, Malvo had more slouches on display than the 2002 Mets. This reporter had heard it said that Muhammad was able to dominate the young Malvo thanks to the latter’s lack of a spine, yet I had no idea they meant it in the strictest clinical sense. This is one boy I wouldn’t want to face in the Twister world championships, and not just because he’d probably shoot my ass if I won. I’m surprised they didn’t have to cart him into the courtroom in a wheelbarrow.

Malvo’s mauve jumpsuit was a welcome contrast to the teeth-clenching Hazmat orange of Muhammad’s ensemble, but any chance the teen had of pulling off a courtroom fashion coup ala the lovely Ms. Winona Ryder was dashed by his grotesquely shambolic addition of gigantic white bunny slippers to complete the outfit. I don’t know how he managed to sneak those past the prison guards, but they definitely should have put the fear of Mr. Blackwell into that young man, like they’re paid to do.

Malvo seems more than happy to provide the much-needed comic relief in this trial, between his footwear choices, hilarious fake Jamaican accent and last month’s slapstick falling-through-the-ceiling escape attempt, which was straight out of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Though if this trial is going to be remembered as anything more than yet another case of “Gun-Crazy Loon and His Funny Teenage Sex Slave,” they’re going to need to dig up another accomplice.

And preferably one who knows that Armani’s not a branch of the Italian military.

the commune news is a strictly pacifist organization, and we condone only the shooting of bullshit, intravenous drugs and war criminals. Lil Duncan wasn’t assigned to this story, but she happened to be in Manassas on vacation when it happened. Rumor has it she was looking to see if the town lived up to its tantalizing name.

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