Fauxhasset Paroder, 2nd edition: Monster in Radiation Park

By Thamanda Crompson
Fauxhasset Paroder Staff Reporter

Rangers of Radiation State Park (known to locals as simply “the Womp”) were unable to confirm a black bear sighting called in by a resident in October.

The State Environmental Police and Department of Conservation and Recreation combed the Womp and found no sign of the bear or its cub. They claimed the bears had moved on. It now appears that this was not entirely true.

On Nov. 6, rangers spotted a creature far more frightening and strange: the Great Black Pig-Bear. Rangers believe the monster may have startled and confused the caller, who (with good reason) could think of no better way to describe this horrifying beast than “a black bear.”

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Pictured: the horrifying beast, shot on iPhone 7 by Rookie Ranger Devan Branch. Photo credit

While black bears are virtually unheard of in this part of New England, the terrifying Great Black Pig-Bear is literally unheard-of, literally everywhere. Literally no one has ever seen or heard of a Great Black Pig-Bear. However, the reports from highly distressed rangers cannot be disputed.

“It was big, black and hairy from behind, just like a normal bear,” described Senior Ranger Roc Rubble. “But it had a funny little curly tail, and when it turned around, it had a…”

Rubble gave a sob and gestured vaguely at his nose, prompting Rookie Ranger Devan Branch, part-time Jedi, to pour him a fresh whiskey.

Rubble downed his drink and said, “You know, a snout.”

Branch calmly reported that the Great Black Pig-Bear had been “rooting in the duff,” or snuffling around the forest floor in search of food, when they’d found it.

They’d followed it back to its lair, where its monstrous offspring was busy eating an empty Buffalo Wild Wings takeout box. The lair was littered with brightly-colored trash.

“The monster had done a really good job of separating its recyclables,” Branch remarked. “Some folks in town could learn a thing or two from the pig-bear.”

Branch said the discovery of the pig-bear had finally solved the mystery of who had been dumpster diving at headquarters, and why: trash appears to be the main component of the pig-bear’s diet.

The discovery also explained the large cloven hoof-prints rangers have been seeing around the park since September.

Branch said this had come as a relief to many veteran rangers, who had seemed to think that demons were gathering in the park again, despite wards that were placed back in 2004 to prevent that sort of thing.

For now, said Branch, the Great Black Pig-Bear and its cub will not be disturbed. Rangers are not permitted to kill, harm, or interfere with a wild animal’s natural behavior unless it poses a direct and immediate threat to humans. As horrifying as the pig-bears might be, they have not actually tried to hurt anybody. Yet.

Rangers will, of course, be watching the pair closely.

“Roc said not to go after it with my light saber,” Branch said. “He still thinks we might have to do an exorcism. I’m just worried an exorcism will ruin all the bacon we could be getting out of this situation.”

“That thing must weigh 300 pounds,” Branch said. “That’s a lot of bacon!”


This is a parody. Read the original police log entry from the Cohasset Mariner and the follow-up from the State House News Service.

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A Study in Fall

Am I the scarlet sumac, first out of the gate, blazing forth into new seasons? The crimson climber, loosely grasping earth as I burst toward the sun? Or am I the tired reeds, sounding summer’s death rattle even as I try to hold it within the dry brown bars of my prison? The dawn of new endings makes a phoenix of us all: goodbyehello, goodbyehello. Crown me with frost and I will evaporate into the sun, if that’s what it takes to fly.

Fall Study