Y.P.R.: No More Fun

Friday, September 12, 2003 | Fiction

No More Fun

by Nick Jezarian

Citizens, gather round. Come one, come all. Yes, even you, my little bespectacled devil—Oh, aren’t you a cutie? I bet you’re a lot like Claire Forlani; remove those specs and reveal a sweet nymph.

The reason I have called this town meeting is to alert you all to a new rule: Proposition 6.432.5828.23.255, named after my grandmother, whom I affectionately referred to as ‘Six’ when I was just a young pup. This rule clearly states:

There will be no more fun in Mudville. Period. This includes, but is not limited to: illegal drugs; masturbation; digital music piracy; the lambasting of public drunks; public drunkenness; pornography; beer; Froot Loops; artificial flavoring; Pez; amusing remarks concerning Hervé Villechaize, Rosie O’Donnell, or Val Kilmer; jokes; lewdness of any sort; profanity, especially the “F” bomb; wilding; the toilet-papering of Marcy Chalmers’s house; graffiti; dancing like the movie Footloose; hooting and/or hollering; Ja Rule in any form; joviality; bargain hunting; wishing you were Heath Ledger; Godzilla bashing; and the eating of Pop-Tarts.

While I understand that many of these things are the very foundations upon which you have created your lives, suffice it to say, you must change. This order has been handed down by one of many in the state legislature. He assured us all that it represents the will of all his constituents. Therefore, we all succumbed to his will. The cupcakes he broke out mid-session certainly helped, but I am a man of resolve. I ate four cupcakes but did not change my mind in the elimination of fun from Mudville until the dancing wee-man dressed like Batman made me laugh so hard that I nearly wet myself. Only then did I agree to sign this proposition. Then I myself was propositioned.

I would like to also address the name ‘Mudville.’ While it was only yesterday that our fair city was known as New York, I renamed it ‘Mudville’ because I prefer to have no spaces. We are a city of efficiency; Mudville is one word, New York, two. Do you follow me?

Ow.

Aide! Aide! Where are you? Remind me to add ‘the throwing of rotten vegetables at esteemed heads of state’ to the proposition.

Nick Jezarian is clearly a superbly built creation resulting from the union of man, woman, and crustacean. Nick's crustacean heritage contributes to his being mostly belligerent, constantly angry, yet always amused. Considering Nick's criminal spelling and grammar habits, the fact that he is part of the Y.P.R. brain trust doesn't say much about the site. Josh and Geoff have driven Nick's writing to new levels as he sends his Guff to the staff in an elaborate binary code that can only be deciphered by the light of pixie dust. Nick is Y.P.R.'s resident hip-hop expert, as he owns three CDs and once stabbed 50 Cent. Nick's favorite word is "word."