truck laden with hundreds of packages of a mysterious white powder attempted to cross the border here today, drawing scrutiny from the Border Patrol and local law enforcement officers concerned that it could be just the latest in a series of terrorist attacks involving Anthrax. After closer investigation, a spokesman revealed, with some relief, that the substance turned out to be simply 94% pure Colombian cocaine.

"We were awful worried at first," said Sheriff Fluff Drivel of nearby Littlehead City. "These days everyone's on edge whenever they see white powder. Hell, my wife refuses to bake anything that involves using flour right now."

Drivel's partner, Officer Roy Dither, added, "I was the one to investigate the powder itself. You remember that TV show, I think it was 'Banacek' or maybe it was 'Mannix,' that one back in the '70s? Anyway, it was just like that episode of 'The Streets of San Francisco,' where they caught that guy with the big bag of white powder, and George Peppard or Karl Malden or whoever stuck his finger in the bag, right up to his knuckle, and then tasted the powder and said 'Pure horse.' Well, I just went ahead and scooped up a big handful of the powder in question, and I was all ready to say that, to say 'Pure horse,' but before I could, my mouth had got all numb and everything, and then I was thinking about how my neighbor used to have horses when I was a kid, and he used to race them, and I used to see him giving them some white powder before the races, and that got me to thinking, well, maybe it was something else. Then I remembered how these ants used to be all over the stable where he kept the horses, these really interesting little black ants, you know, and they would just all follow each other in a big long line up the wall, and I always wondered what made them do that, and then-"

Sheriff Drivel then gently interrupted his partner with a friendly, two-handed smack to the side of the head with his baton. Officer Dither reeled off, twitching spasmodically, his arms flailing and blood streaming from his nose and ear, while Sheriff Drivel continued.

"To make a long story short, we had the powder analyzed, and it turned out that it wasn't Anthrax at all. It also wasn't 'pure horse,'" he snorted, casting a glance at his still-convulsing partner. "All it turned out to be was your plain old garden-variety cocaine, so we sent these jokers on their merry way. I can tell you, we were awfully glad to find out it wasn't Anthrax, though. We hate that kind of music down here."

t the notorious brothel in our nation's capital known simply as The House, there's a new madam ready to crack the whip. Literally.

Taking over the reins from former Master David Boneya, Mistress Nancy Peniso is the first female to head up The House in its long and storied history. It's a change that she says was a long time coming, much like many of the clients.

"In today's climate of pan-sexuality, it only makes sense that we have a shared dynamic in heading up this bastion of pain and pleasure, you insignificant little worm," Peniso was quoted as saying through gritted teeth. "Now lick my patent-leather boots until they shine, slave!" she added.

Citing The House's beginnings as a strictly gay male club that specialized in infantilism and fetishes, Peniso went on to say that "It's about time some of those tired old sissy-Marys get their come-uppance. We're entering a new century, and S&M is the new norm. Women have a role to play, and it isn't just as submissives tied to a rack for a little light whipping, or the occasional use as a cigar humidor. From now on, these members of the old boy network will have to beg Mistress's permission to go sticking their tongues into just any old orifice that happens to present itself."

Former Master Boneya, who is moving on to become President and CEO of Glory Hole Video Booths, Inc., was moved to tears in the ritual ceremony relinquishing power to Mistress Nancy.

"This is one of the most – ow! -- pleasurable and – urf!! – painful days of my life," Boneya cried, assuming the classic submissive position and receiving a thorough caning as he passed on the ceremonial whip, ball gag and buttplug to the Mistress. "I hope she serves all you – ooooh! – slaves and bitches well. Ow, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!!"

Visibly shaken, Boneya was then led away in leather restraints while Peniso busied herself with a few hooded lobbyists and a red-hot branding iron.

"We're going to lay down some laws now, boys," she said with a twinkle in her eye and an evil grin. "The House is in session!"

"I remember quite clearly the first girl I ever kissed. I was very young and inexperienced, no older than 13. No younger than 13 either. In fact, I was 13.

She was a very self-assured woman, slightly older, around 16. She wore confidence like a dress, and she wore her dress like a dress, so it was like she was wearing two dresses, but both matched her rose-colored shoes.

Her hair was long and feathery, golden, not real gold but just blonde, though calling it 'golden' makes it sound more poetic, I like to think. Her lips were fat, naturally so, not like mine that were still fat from that playground fight with the ugly kid a day before. No, her lips were beautiful, like sweet candy wax lips and you wanted to taste but not eat because that would be disgusting.

'Do you want to kiss me?' she asked. I'm no fool, so I told her I did, though I was very nervous.

I could tell she was very reluctant, wearing a shy smile and a twinkling sparkle in her eye as she tried to play all normal about it. And, kiddies, that li'l devil I was, that 13-year-old Sampson L. Hartwig, I leaned in and planted the most fantastic kiss on her lips.

'That's an extra dollar,' she reminded me, but it was worth every penny as she put her clothes back on while I watched to make sure no flatfeet cops were cruising by."

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