As any good, conscientious society page reporter would be doing on a warm and peaceful June afternoon, I was huddled up listening to my police scanner on that fateful Friday, while idling at the curb, my trusty story-chasing vehicle at the ready. I knew __something__ was up -- things were just too eerily quiet.

There seemed to be masses and masses of milling throngs made up of teeming thousands of joyously high-spirited people on the campus of the University of Aakron, but all was relatively quiet. No fist fights, no drunk driving accidents, no one arrested for lewd or indecent behavior (except for that one wild and wacky joker from the Northern hills of New Jersey who slipped the choke-chain held by his sponsor).

I was bored, listless and feeling emergency deprived, anxiously awaiting a report of excitement when the call came through, "Woman down, woman down! All emergency units respond to the area in front of EJ Thomas Auditorium!"

Fortunately I was only a scant half block away. Putting the pedal to the metal, I sped to the scene of the incident, or, as they later termed it - "The Mishap".

Surveying the scene with my beady little trained reporter's eye, I immediately spied a poor, helpless, redhead being assisted off the ground to a bench by a very, very slim man and a somber and terrified employee of the University. Four other women were following behind, smiling, laughing and checking their watches. I parked my car across the street just as the lights ablaze police cruiser arrived. A female officer leapt from the passenger's seat of the patrol unit and ran excitedly past the redhead, running toward the crowd stating "We have a report of a woman down... what's going on here?" The four women (consisting of a matronly, grandmotherly figure, a strikingly statuesque blonde, a lovely brunette woman, and a short woman with a camera) were having a rollicking good time of it! They could NOT stop laughing.
The female police officer, sounding very angry and flustered, stated again "We have a report of a woman down... DO YOU NEED HELP?" The lovely brunette stopped laughing long enough to point at the injured, helpless woman.

Pointing up the hill toward a gaping, man-eating, tremendously wide and deep pot-hole, the injured woman moaned "I fell in that tiny hole and hurt my ankle ... and my wonderfully gracious friends here helped me to this bench. Oh, woe is me. I believe I just might have to believe that I am wounded. Only slightly though. I think I can drag myself and go on."

The woman was possibly quite seriously injured, but being the saintly-type person she was, she wasn't willing to let everyone know the extent of her true suffering. The police officers insisted they call an ambulance to determine the true nature of her possibly life-threatening injuries. The crowd around the injured woman kept checking their watches, gesturing at the injured woman, and then pointing back toward the center of the campus.

I could only hear a few words, but was aghast at some of the things I heard!

"We're going to miss dinner if they don't hurry up!"

"Do you think they'll bring a back-hoe with them?"

"Did anyone get a picture of her on the ground?"

"Do you think they'll need a construction crane?"

As their friend sat there suffering in great, soul-wracking agony, all these people could think of was their own gustatory needs!

The very slim man (who, by the way, had very unusual ears) and the lovely brunette grudgingly showed the police officers the hole where their friend fell.

Well, friends, the tale of woe did not end here! As the ambulance arrived, everyone started jumping up and down, clapping their hands and squealing delightedly!

The short one with the camera was heard to ask "Do you think they'll take us each for a ride in their shiny bright ambulance and let us whoop-whoop the siren???"

Two of Aakron's finest and most efficient paramedics leaped from the ambulance and dashed toward the injured woman. She tried in vain to tell them that she wasn't injured seriously ... a little pain only made her stronger. They checked her pulse, her heart rate. It took major surgery amidst great confusion and concern with a pair of scissors to remove the shoe from her poor, swollen ankle.

All the while this wounded saint of a woman sat with a beatific smile on her face, obviously deeply engrossed in prayer. I wish, dear readers, you had been there to see how her ... (alleged, so-called) __friends__ treated her! They pointed, they laughed, they snapped photos, endlessly and uproarously.

The fire department paramedics determined that the injuries were not life-threatening and suggested the injured woman be taken to the ER (by someone other than themselves) to be certain her ankle wasn't broken. As she was loaded in to the back seat of the police car, her friends continued to snap photos, laugh, and make rude and raucous jokes at her expense!

As the police drove away toward the center of campus, these so-called friends could be heard to say: "You take her!"

"No, YOU, take her."

"I'm not taking her."

"Why do _I_ have to take her?"

"She ain't goin' in my clean exterminator's truck!"

"Ok, who has to take her to the ER?"

"Let's draw straws to see who loses! "

"LONG straw has to take her! "

The very slim man with unusual ears and the statuesque blonde "won" the drawing with the long straws (held out by the short woman with the camera), and as the others danced about in glee (being seen to laughingly snap the ends off of their straws), the two bemused long-straw'ers trudged ponderously down the hill toward the center of campus, and could be heard muttering:

survey=Wanda
wortha= Very worth reading
lengtha= Too short
trutha= Gospel, Every Word!
comments=More! More! Bravo!! Give us Pictures of the gory details!!! We want BLOOD!! hee hee hee!
reader=Ol Bat

survey=Wanda
worth=Very worth reading
length=Just right
truth=Gospel, Every Word!
comments=I was there and
saw it all!
reader=The Statuesque Blond

At the University of AAkron Friday, I saw a group of attendees, called HHGH, obviously returning from an Ice Cream Parlor where one of them didn't get her minimum daily requirement of calories, caffeine, and sugar. The one referred to as da Bo2S's was not a happy camper. Moaning, screeching and whining like fingernails on a chalkboard, I heard a chorus of "I want", "I'm gonna", "I'll show you", "You'll be sorry", "Just you wait", and on and on.

This long-suffering group was used to the red-headed Boss's tantrums and (for the lack of better words) snit fits. The one called "ol' Bat" had about as much of the Boss as she was gonna take. With a bit more than a little egging on from some short woman with a camera, a grandmotherly type woman, and a blond chick, the one riding the broom effected the finest left jab ever seen, and the redhead was in the street, belly-up.

No sooner did she hit the ground, than epithets and profanity began spewing from her, whining that not only did she have a short serving of ice cream, now she had a fat lip, and as a triple bonus, her foot was solidly entrapped in a storm sewer grate.

The ice-cream deprived redhead was by now near delirious and getting hoarse from the brow beating she bestowed upon the others. To make things worse, the group took this opportunity to capitalize on the unraveling of their fearless leader. To the dismay of myself and the now growing crowd of on-lookers, the group seized the moment to use as a "Photo-Op" that would make any politician proud. The cameras were clicking, popping and flashing as the Boss was trying to extricate herself from the sewer. By now, outsiders started taking videos and guffawed a request for a re-run of the entire scene.

A maintenance worker from the university noticed the commotion, saw the woman trying to sneak into the University's sewer system, slammed on the brakes of his van, and notified the Police that a woman was in the street and seemed to be delirious. Just as the Police vehicle screeched to a halt, the by now red-faced redhead somehow got herself dislodged from the sewer.

The campus cops were somewhat disgruntled by the call when they didn't see "A woman down and in agony". It seems as though the unit dispatched was in the middle of their only coffee break. The woman officer announced that someone had BETTER be hurt, and they had better be hurt seriously.

At that point the redhead dove down into an act of writhing and gyrating that would convince anyone that she was near death, or worse. As the police got into their questions, I could see the scheme parting at the seams. The photo session was out of hand, the police posing; a news helicopter hovering; strange-ears was suggesting a back-hoe or forklift for getting the raving redhead upright; camera-woman was prompting her by suggesting her name was Wilma Flintstone; Broomie had Blondie looking for ice to reduce swelling in her left hand; and gramma was trying to disavow any knowledge of or relationship to the rest of the green shirted rowdies.

Finally, the fire department arrived, not only with a para-medic unit, but also a hooker's ladder and pumper, all with sirens and lights ablaze.

The limelighted "victim" went into heart wrenching grimaces and whimpering; her act making any Oscar winning scenes pale by comparison. As the medics and police tried to disperse the crowd that had gathered, carrot-top continued with her blustering to a point of near hysteria.

But by now, the uniforms were also in full swing with picture taking and chit-chat overshadowing the irate "greenshirter" honcho. The diversion was more than she could bear, because all at once our damsel in distress rose from her domain in the gutter and into a tirade of proportions never before witnessed by this reporter.

The maimed maiden now had a cop by the shirt collar and pronounced him, his family tree, associates, peers, and all persons he ever had contact with "incompetent, inept, unqualified, despicable, etc.". With the seemingly miraculous recovery and amazing recuperation within seconds, the police, firemen, medics, and masses all realized that the fun was over now.

Realizing that she had been a victim of a broohaha, the policewoman retaliated with a resounding nightstick blow to the aforementioned "injured" ankle. Before stomping off to their cruiser, the police announced that "now get to the hospital any way you want, just don't call us!"

Their mission of mercy so unceremoniously aborted, the police and other emergency personnel dispersed, leaving the now "for real" debilitated wench lying in the gutter, while all others (except the HHGH members) fled the scene as soon as they realized that the photo opportunity was over.

Now, when the Green Team is left to it's own devices, with it's wounded leader in a street side gutter, they go into action. A resourceful bunch, this green shirted clan of rowdies, the one dubbed Critter leaves to get his pick-up truck for a makeshift ambulance (as long as the redhead didn't get no blood on it). The short woman with the camera starts barking out orders to the ol' bat, Blondie, and Gramma to scramble down to the railroad and haul up a rather vile looking piece of plywood that was lying rotting near the tracks. The trio groped and stumbled down the bank to retrieve it, and by the time the plywood pillagers wrangled their way back up the bank, the skinny guy was pulling up in his "exterminator's" truck. Now I knew why they called him CG, its short for "Critter Gitter".

This inventive bunch found some "bunjee" straps to truss up the now plywood plastered, still jabbering and order barking Czaress. As they heaved her up under the pickup's cap, and into the back of the pest control truck, someone managed to stuff a sock into her mouth to restrict the distracting orders and ceaseless demands.

With the empress thus strapped down and gagged, I could see this was going to be a ride to remember. The evil grins and sneers were enough to warrant me a moment of thanks that I was merely a witness to the yet to come "Ride to Hell and Hospital". With the rollicking group crowded in the cab, and the injured boss in the back somewhat immobilized, it was time for their next bit of fun. The breakneck starts and stops, the whipping turns and undulating back-ups and sudden brakings were enough to make me hurt just watching. I heard screams of the redhead bellowing forth from under the closed cap compartment of the gyrating pickup. The fiendish Greenshirters were guffawing and wiping tears of laughter from their faces as they got some long-awaited come-uppance for the years of haranguing by the stifled Boss. There was even some comment to the effect that "that ole redhead is bouncin' aroun' back there like a ping pong ball in a ole automatic clothes dryer".

At merciful last, the giddy glee gruseomely gorged, the exterminator truck full of Greenshirts comes to a neck snapping stop at the ER entrance. Angelic sincerity on their faces, they open the rear hatch to allow their fallen leader a breath of fresh air. With little or no enthusiasm the bawdy bunch finally agree to remove the gag, but only with stringent conditions agreed to: that the gag is to be replaced immediately and permanently at the first utterance of anything construed as a complaint, whine, grievance, or demand. The redhead poutingly agrees to the conditions.

Blondie, Gramma, ol' bat, and the short camerawoman finally agree to go in the hospital to get an attendant ... that is, right after they go to the ladies room to freshen-up. In the meantime the poor skinny guy with the strange ears is in charge of the freshly ungagged CEO. The Boss seeming to have withdrawal symptoms from lack of jaw activity usually experienced, with no restraint, restarts her tirade of wants and needs. The little guy is poised and ready to reimpose the gag order just as a nurse and the now freshened up foursome appear at the entrance.

The nurse tries to assist the wounded leader, who, seeing the wheelchair demands a gurney and 4 attendants in full dress regalia. The nurse was at the end of her shift and her frayed wits, so she jostled the redfaced blusterer into the chair by the collar and belt loops, and as da Bo2S's starts to protest, threatens to run her into a closed door with the hurt ankle leading the way. That settled any more kvetching the Boss was entertaining for the moment.

Once inside, the uncontrollable need to direct and organize took over with no warning, as this woman wants to take charge of the entire emergency wing. She is wielding orders, and finding fault with everything from the color of the gowns to the volume of the intercom.

Amidst all the grousing and fretting, the ER staff finally reached their tolerance limit with the powerfully pompous and patience popping plutocrat. Like a scene from an unrated horror film, the ER staff literally tossed the perpetrator out into the driveway. They followed up by tossing some leftover ace wraps, rusty safety pins, one crutch, and a bed pan after her. As all the greenshirters were ducking and dodging the supplies, one could hear the staff explain, "fix it yourself, and don't darken our door again!"

Comments:
Reader's Name:

Other Readers' Thoughts:

Reader: Unka PitBill
 Worth: Very Worth reading
Length: Just right
 Truth: Gospel, Every Word!
Comments: I kin pikcher it hap'nin jes' dat wayz!!

subject=Wally_Survey
worthb=Very worth reading
lengthb=Just right
truthb=Gospel, Every Word!
commentsb=sure do preciate accurate reportin
readerb=Billy Ray ImnotSal Bob

subject=Wally_Survey
worthb=Very worth reading
lengthb=Too short
truthb=Gospel, Every Word!
commentsb=A catastrophe! Hope the annual event can recuperate from such a disaster!
readerb=Golly Bull

subject=Wally_Survey
worth=Very worth reading
length=Just right
truth=Gospel, Every Word!
comments=Bravo! But pleeze provide pictures as proof of deeds claimed!!
readerb=Ol Bat

subject=Wally_Survey
worth=Very worth reading
length=Too long
truth=Gospel, Every Word!
comments=Like I said I was there and saw it all!
And these reporters are telling the truth!
reader=Blondie