By Mo Macsai-Goren
HOLLAND, MI – Hear ye, hear ye! Gather round, villagers! ‘Tis with a burdened bow and humble heart that I bestow upon you the tragic tale of Carl’s Olde Ice Cream Shoppe.
Thy familiar favored fortress for a treacle and a treat hath permanently and positively perished. What once lay betwixt the apothecary and the infirmary now lies in a smoldering, sulfuric shadow.
‘Tis not a jest, simple townsfolk. The boisterous blaze began when a precariously placed pungent potation peregrinated perchance.
The circumjacent clew caught curious combustion causing caustic conditions and conjured cryptic concern that I currently, concisely convey to you.
‘Twill behoof you not fret, simpletons. Officers are searching for the festering fainéant foolish enough to frantically flee from the fantastic flames forthcoming.
Until the knave is apprehended, soft and supple sweets will be stoutly suspended from service and sale.