or a third year in a row, a young Messier, Idaho, boy has continued to miss the point entirely concerning his April Fool’s Day pranks. The boy’s jests are described as “cruel and malicious� by Messier police and have resulted in the wrongful arrest of six individuals and the hospitalization of two with severe injuries.

Identified by a spiteful member of the police department as Messier Elementary sixth-grader Bert Woodland, the boy has perpetrated another spree of April Fool’s jokes this past Friday, unleashing more terror on a town that had hoped it had seen the last of unfunny, “just plain mean� practical jokes. Two of Friday’s five harshest April Fool’s incidents have already been traced back to Woodland, and police believe they will eventually tie all of the crimes back to the little prick.

Among the more destructive of Friday’s pranks was the non-lethal firing of a handgun within a hospital emergency room, greasing the ladder of a local fire engine (resulting in the injury of a fireman at the scene of a blaze), and the mailing of a cowheart to the parents or a girl who had been missing for five months. Even the townspeople of Messier, Idaho, who claim to have really warped senses of humor agree there’s funny and then there’s just abusing people.

Police had similar run-ins with Woodland’s unfunny assaults on the innocent on two previous April Fool’s Days, the most severe incident being last year’s burying alive of Woodland’s brother, Cory. While the parents refused to press charges against their own son, it did raise police awareness that the prankster’s sense of humor was not getting better and earned him the universal designation of “sick fuck� from everyone in Messier.

“That little shit put a rattlesnake in my mailbox,� said elderly neighbor Huntz Vohlman. “Not a plastic one, a live rattlesnake. If I hadn’t heard the sound it would have caught me when it lunged out to bite. I’m telling you, that’s not normal. I haven’t been out of my house on the first of April for the last two years.�

Vohlman’s fear was generally shared by everyone in Messier. Principal of Messier Elementary Arlene Fredericks cancelled school when all the teachers threatened not to come on the dreaded “A-Day,� petrified by Woodland’s potential destruction.

Substitute teacher Martin Kohl: “Last year I showed up and didn’t even know it was April Fool’s. But I found out soon enough. The kid tossed a quarter stick of dynamite at me—not a firecracker, you hear, but a real partial stick of dynamite. The doctors couldn’t even reattach my right index finger. When’s someone going to explain humor to this kid?�

University of Idaho Child Psychologist Will Raymond studied Woodland last year following his second April Fool’s arrest.

“Young Bert has obviously misinterpreted the spirit of the holiday,� said Raymond. “In modern times, April the first is a day when we all try to lighten up a bit, stop taking ourselves so seriously, and make a game out of embarrassing our friends and neighbors—those we’re fond of. Instead, Bert uses it as an excuse to lash out with his insidious wit and damage others, either emotionally or physically, or sometimes both. He is, I believe, a purely anti-social personality with just enough a sense of morality to need an excuse—like April Fool’s Day—to ignite his malicious behavior. At first I believed he had a rich history of emotional abuse which he concealed with his terror. Later on I found out he was just an asshole.�

Raymond declined an invitation to study the boy again, since after last year’s visit Woodland posted his image on a website for registered sex offenders; Raymond also suspects the boy’s the reason he’s been getting amorous letters from the Idaho State Men’s Penitentiary.

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OH MY GOD SNOW

Sorry, kind readers, but I haven't the time to waste writing for you this week. I have managed to get back on track with the Biggest Conspiracy in the World (BCW, for you conspiracy fans) after losing my foot in the door so tragically this time. I speak metaphorically, of course, and my literal foot suffers nothing more than a dangly, unclipped toenail and a stark and pungent odor. But why am I wasting time like an unaccredited Dr. Scholl's? I have to catch up with all my new contacts, and my column is the quickest and safest way to do. But just in case someone is actually reading it, I'll do everything in the agreed-upon code for all my compatriots.

To the kind and stealthy Mr. Humphrey: It's all set for Tampon, right around Fluff-fifteen. Check the code book I gave you on how to translate those times. But I was lucky to get it set up, so don't go showing up at 4:30 or too early at 4:10. Thursdays are always hell in doctor's offices anyway. Oh, that's right, I forgot to tell you where it is! It's at Pigeon Michaels' office. Remember? Pigeon Michaels, the Ear, Nose and Throat Pigeon?

For Willie and Sanchez: I'll be there at midnight tonight, in the agreed-upon location. And I'll have my bass with me. That's not code. I will be bringing my bass, since my band is rehearsing shortly before the meeting.

Turnip, or Mrs. Turnip: Make sure you have the Glockenspiel properly lubricated. I don't want another rash on my sensitive parts because you didn't do it right.

Anthrog Baker, Esquire: The Cake did not rise. Repeat, the Cake did not rise. Cancel the party.

Shaolin Henry: We're turning away all guests that don't know the Piper. If the Piper hasn't been paid, kick their ass to the curb. Forget them. Don't let them in if they got their hand stamped last night. It's a new night, a new Piper to be paid.

Ronald McDonald and the Hamburgler: The paddies are hot. Don't touch them. I'm not responsible for what happens if you grab the paddies.

Mrs. Turnip: I forgot to ask, can you show me how to bake a proper Cake? Ours didn't rise. It really sucks, because we had to cancel our party and everything.

Fantasia Martin: If you must, you must. But watch out if the dog is outside. He's sitting in the water dish.

Dickless and Assmunch: In regards to last week's queries, no, you can't have your nicknames changed. It serves you right for taking a smoke break while we were assigning names.

Pedro: The border is wide open and fully unguarded. Come home, and come home quick.

Bundles, a.k.a. Monsignor Bundles: Study the Rubicon. We have a schedule to keep, and every day those Chocolate Chips don't come in we lose another 5 million Cancers.

Og the Hog: Call me sometime. Remember me? This is Red Bagel, from Kappa Delta. We need to catch up sometime.

Franco and my Publisher Harold Mortensen: The book is finish and ready to be published. That's code for you, Franco. Normal talk for you, Harry.

Omar Bricks: Get your dead fish out of my office. This is not code, but I can't stand the wait anymore. I've measured it and you're not anywhere near the world's record, even for clear water pond catches.

Blanche: See what you can do about getting me a cell phone. I can't keep in touch with any of the gang. I've had to resort to using my column to keep up the conspiracy messages.

Everyone else: Bugger off. I'll have more to say to you next time.

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O Director, Where Art Thou?

That's what semi-intelligent critics who love making minor alterations to famous titles or phrases should be asking. Nobody else seems curious as to what's happened to two-hit wonder Quentin Tarantino. The writer/director defined '90s pop-culture referencing in film with his fantastic works Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. He also did Jackie Brown.

And then what happened, I ask? Like many others I actually have no clue, just extremely curious. The title "The Gimp Has Claimed Quentin Tarantino" is just a creative way of referencing his previous work and posing the topic, I actually don't know.

It does make you think, though. Alright, stop now.

Chances are something happened to Tarantino during the making of Jackie Brown, the making of his last unreleased feature, or one of his infamous verbal battles with Spike Lee. With all the guns and swords and backroom raping that goes on in a Tarantino film, it's entirely possible something awful destroyed him before his next film could be released. This must have happened sometime around 1997. Unless it perhaps happened earlier…?

How do we know for sure Quentin Tarantino made Jackie Brown? In fact, how do we know for sure Tarantino did anything after Pulp Fiction? When he accepted the Oscar at the Academy Awards ceremony that year he seemed a little suspect to me. Not to mention all through that From Dusk Till Dawn film. I surmise maybe Tarantino never made it to either one of those events.

Now's the part where you smugly doubt me, saying that Tarantino has been seeing numerous places since Pulp Fiction debuted. Listen, toad, I don't need to be reminded of facts I have exhaustively researched. Take that tone with me again you'll be reading this column with your eyes in your ass. Don't make me try to figure out that physical nightmare, just shut up already.

Alright, I'm calmer now. The truth is, in theory, Quentin Tarantino, the talented writer/director, has been replaced with a lookalike. You might suspect an android replacement—I did at first, but the animations of most human beings are beyond current android technology, especially for the nervous manic animations of Tarantino.

Delve into your collective sitcom psyche and ask yourself, if it's not a robot, not a future or past self (trust me on this one), and not another Tarantino from another universe, what is it? If you said "twin brother," you're right on the money. If you said "mask," please, you're wasting my time and yours with your bizarre fantasies.

I'd bet dollars to dildos Quentin Tarantino's less popular, less talented brother has imprisoned or eliminated his brother and is parading around as him. This other brother—let's assume his name is Quincy since parents always name identical twins with an alliterative name—lacks the technical film knowledge Tarantino himself, a former video store clerk, possesses, and therefore had ground to a halt any filmmaking Tarantino was in the midst of.

He's riding around on Tarantino's kick-ass coattails, hobnobbing at all the parties and rubbing celebrity elbows and squawking like a chicken while his brother remains missing. Tarantino has become the victim in his own crime-drama, tied to a chair, ball-gagged, while some smarmy redneck hollers to bring out the gimp. We must find him and free him before the gimp is brought out. And when I say "we" I mean "you."ame way—a little painful at first, not without some mis-steps, but ultimately for the better of everyone.

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