This just in!!! Unreliable sources may have discovered the whereabouts of Tex Brickley over that past days and weeks! The disappearance from the FUCR scene of this veteran of the league has led to many unfounded accusations, none more so than that which you are about to read! However, sources say that Brickley was not on vacation getting a Brazilian bikini wax, but rather was spending his days lamenting the passing of the glory day's of Flint, Michigan's former theme park Autoworld.
Legend has it, that on warm summer nights, a figure can be seen drifting about the empty lot where the shitty shitty attraction used to stand. This figure, hunched over yet with an aura of power has been heard and seen wailing like an Irish banshee that's lost its lover. It is this reporter's opinion that this mysterious apparition is none other than FUCR manager Tex Brickley! Anonymous sources have also stated that a similar figure has been seen living in the old, busted up giant engine that once used to be a main attraction at autoworld. Further investigation has found that Tex Brickley had been sleeping (or wailing) night after night within the giant engine in it's final resting place where it was dumped, half submerged in the disgusting Flint River. Has Brickley lost it? We'll keep working on this story to confirm it's accuracy!
3 comments:
Insanity? Dat would explain why he thinks his stable has a shot of winning anything this season! Sad, sad man! Reduced to these delusions of grandeur! Vell i know that once he is finally committed I vill do my part to visit often and help spoon feed him mashed bananas and help raise the straw to his lips so he can slurp his steak...It is really the only decent & charitable thing to do for the old, crazed man.
I don't know who your source is, but after doing a little digging on the Flint Freaks Myspace board, it seems that the local scuttlebutt claims that the remnants of AutoWorld (and those of Funland as well) are stalked by none other than Mark Farmer of Grand Funk Railroad fame. Gathered at The Torch in Buckham Alley, the locals whisper tales of a disheveled Farmer wandering around a holocaust type memorial of his dusty platinum records. Crying out to Peter Frampton, moaning things like "Pete...you could have changed everything..."
Nobody has any hard evidence of this, of course, seems as how nobody much cares. Still, it's a tale to scare the little hoodrats everywhere. It seems to actually be replacing the terror of "The Rabbit Lady".
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