Couple Share Love Hot Enough to Destroy Colorado Wilderness

n the lighter side of the news, in dark days where most of the news consists of political scandals and terrorist strikes on the domestic front, a national story about a couple's blazing love has captured America's attention.

The couple in question is U.S. Forest Service worker Terry Barton and her husband, whose identity has yet to be released by police. Barton and her husband came to the attention of the nation after Barton was recently named the prime suspect who started the fire that currently ravages through Colorado forest land.

Since the fire started June 8, it has destroyed many homes, required the evacuation of nearly 9,000 residents, and spread to 136,000 acres. The extent of the devastation is so vast it is the leading reason to doubt Barton's assertion that she started the fire by accident after burning a letter from her estranged husband. It's a new level of destruction caused by a postal delivery, especially for a letter containing no anthrax.

Upon Barton's Thursday indictment, prosecutors in the case would detail no clear motive or Barton's reasoning in setting the fire that has caused so much damage, but they did state Barton's account of the fire accidentally escaping her control did not match forensic facts recovered at the scene.

FBI and other police agencies, however, have stated that they have re-opened previous wildfire files as arson cases. In particular, neighbors and acquaintances of Barton are being interviewed to discover the welfare of her lovelife around 1871, and if she was around Chicago at the time.

Police and media are working to put a negative spin on Barton's actions, focusing on the damage to property and endangerment of innocent lives, but it's hard to deny the romantic side of the story. Already, nationwide, fires are being set in the name of love, following Barton's original response to her break-up.

"It sounds real cool to say, you know," said 20-year-old college student Naomi Blooger. "I burned down half of Colorado because I love you so much. I mean, I key-scratched a guy's car once, but I've never loved anybody enough to kill wildlife and clear major acreage."

Others agreed with Blooger's reaction.

"Who wouldn't be impressed?" said Penelope Fitzsimmons. "I wish I had someone who loved me enough to torch miles and miles of forestry. I've got a new definition of true love."

Despite the charm of the felony, prosecutors fail to see the human side of the crime and are instead focusing on displaced people and animals, as well as the countless numbers of both placed in jeopardy by Barton's actions. Even worse, at the time of press, her actions had failed to woo back her husband. No telling at this time if Barton planned further vandalism or arson.

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Finger fans, I'm delighted to be writing you again sooner than anticipated. As I last said, I did not believe there was enough of interest to me to warrant continued commune writing, but we both lucked out, for since those premature words, I have discovered my dentist is a secret agent.

It must seem like I've gone mad, and I have—mad with international intrigue. I'm not at liberty to say too much, and of course I can't use his last name, but I am permitted to use his first, so we'll call him "Doctor." No one was more surprised than me at my last visit for a regular teeth cleaning, although the hygienist did seem shocked and dismayed when I elected to change into a hospital gown. I am not going home with a drool-drenched shirt again, I'm adamant on that point, and she's a dental assistant, she should be accustomed to a little nudity by now.

I would not have even found out this sizzling bit of news if it were not for a slip of the tongue. We were discussing film and I asked Doctor if he had seen that new James Bond film from three years ago. He said yes, and he enjoyed it very much, being a spy himself.
The secret was out! I asked him what kind of spy he was, he told me he would have to kill me if he told me, or if I laid a finger on his girlfriend. I of course promised I would tell no one, and would not touch the girlfriend, having not yet seen her or found out she was a model. Reluctantly, Doctor confided his history in his majesty's secret service. Bet you didn't know we were a monarchy-democracy, did you? Neither did I, until Doctor straightened me out. My grill as well.

Good people, I'm a simple ventriloquil stage performer, I'm not used to the fast-paced life of spydom, or even dentistry. I lived a quiet life, immune to all the intrigue just hanging in the air around me like humidity. Now my eyes are opened, the little crusty booger things cleared out by the truth. We are surrounded on all sides by spies.
I asked Doctor how he got into the spy game, he said it's all who you know, and he's good friends with the secret king. I'm not supposed to use his full name outside the Circle of Mystery, which I'm not allowed to be a part of unless they don't have enough people to make a circle present. But I guess I can give you something to call him, differentiate from everyone else in this story, so call him King Steve.

The secret monarchy ruling our country and the plethora of spies disguised as every day members of the service industry has provided me with some distraction from the humdrum routine of entertaining people by pretending to speak. If you're wondering who are the enemies of the Circle of Mystery, you're not alone, but Doctor won't tell me anything more unless King Steve grants me full access. That will cost $40, and I don't get that kind of money in my line of work, not until my crimson tuxedo is paid for. Yes, I am on the waiting list to be inducted into this hidden world, so wish me luck. Rok Finger may be protecting you from the most evil and insidious threat to this nation neither of us has ever heard of. So sleep well, once I get forty bucks.

I learned all this from a night of fascinating conversation with Doctor. After my cleaning and semi-annual uvula scraping, I invited Doctor out for a night on the town, but when we realized the cost of drinks would add up, we instead decided to share a mask of nitrous for a few hours. What amazing secrets were revealed, probably a lot more than I can remember since I think I forgot to switch off the tank just before I passed out. Did you know our spies go on vacation twice a year to stunning locations like Fort Lauderdale to monitor the international diamond trade? Of course you didn't. You don't have $40 and you're not in the Circle of Mystery. As soon as they get a few dozen more membership fees added to the Circle, a sweepstakes will decide who is the best spy, and that candidate will travel to romantic Monte Carlo to enter a high-stakes poker competition and thwart the evil Professor Glove. He's not the most terrible criminal mastermind of our age, but he's the equivalent of a comptroller for said most terrible criminal mind. I can't wait to get my $40 and find out who it is! My money is on Red Bagel, who ironically owes me $40 in unpaid commune checks.

Doctor was quick to remind me this is all fantasy, insisted that I remember that when I left and promised to dig up the money for the entry fee into the Circle. Of course it's fantasy. It's been my boyhood dream to defend the country and the western world from the unimaginable despotism of a villain whose name I don't know. And I didn't even have a boyhood.

I do hope they give me bullets with my membership kit. I already have a gun and an ankle holster.

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Thank your lucky stars you're alive to witness another episode of Reflections of a Goocher, with your host, Stu "the Dew" Umbrage. The part of Stu will be played this week by Lil' Abner.

SU: Thanks for joining us, folks. Those of you who were not eaten by dinosaurs while waiting in line will be happy to know that I've got a whole new line-up of dinosaur jokes tonight. So, let's waste no time getting to the funny. What did the dinosaur say to the Reflections of a Goocher fan right before it ate him?

AUDIENCE: WE COULDN'T MAKE IT OUT THROUGH ALL THE SCREAMING!

SU: Very good! You guys are one step ahead of me yet again, I'm going to have to either fire my audience or hire smarter writers. Funny, funny stuff people. So, anyway, you ever pull a jar of something out of your refrigerator, only to be stunned by how old the expiration date is? I saw one at my house the other day that said "PALEOLITHIC ERA"! I'm going to have to buy some more Worchester sauce!

AUDIENCE: AH! RUN! FUCK ME!! (indistinguishable guttural noises, roaring)

SU: You people are a great audience, did I ever tell you that? Those of you who are left are just awesome. Moving right along, what time is it when a triceratops sits on your fence?

AUDIENCE: FOUR O'CLOCK!

SU: That fucker sat on my fence again? What, he can't read the sign? Where's my gun?

AUDIENCE: (gunshots, dying)

SU: I swear, you people. I know I say this every night, but you guys really are the best audience ever. What's that folks? There's an invisible dinosaur waiting for me in my dressing room? Tell him I can't see him! Ha! Oh God, I've got to write that down. Hey, where are you two going? We can't finish the show without an audience.

AUDIENCE: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HIDE US! THEY'RE COMING!

SU: Hide you? Then who are the cameras going to cut to for reaction shots after the big punchlines? What's that? The cameramen are dead? That reminds me of a great joke: What's the name of the dinosaur that's hunting you down right now?
Doyathinkysaurus? Ha ha!

AUDIENCE: (digestive noises)

SU: Well, I'm afraid that's about all the time we have this week on Reflections of a Goocher. Be sure to join us next time when we'll have a fresh new audience that's a lot more fun than this last bunch, and maybe by then the exterminator will finally get his ass over here to spray for these berserk, blood-hungry carnivores. Until then, I'm Stu Umbrage and you're a homo.

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