Forever Yogurt Nevermore

By Barney Yorken-Gurter

BOSTON – Eons ago, my father Bertram Yorken-Gurter scraped together enough of his savings to open the first frozen yogurt stand the world had ever seen. Through sheer gumption, Poppa built that humble stand into the dessert empire we now know as Forever Yogurt.

Today, the world mourns as the final living semblance of his existence shutters its doors. It is with a heavy heart that I announce the closing of the Forever Yogurt on the corner of Jackson and Main in Beacon Hill.

Despite there being over 2,400 Forever Yogurt locations across the country, Poppa always loved the Beacon Hill location. It was where he proposed to Grammy in 1932 and where I was born 4 years later. I’ll never forget looking through photo albums with Pop and seeing the doctor weigh me on the cash register scale and take my handprint in butterscotch topping.

I spoke with some of my poppa’s first customers in an effort to understand the sorrow this whole nation is currently undertaking. The first person I found was an old Zeppelin insurance salesman who sold Pop his first Zepp.

“I remember when my pappy took me to try the inital 30 toppings they released in conjunction with the first few flavors,” Lerman Trunks, 98, told me. “I couldn’t decide for the life of me between Lead Paint and Cocaine.”

Well, Lerman, neither could my Poppy. In all his years concocting silky smooth dairy product, he never departed from the original two flavors — which he conceived high out of his mind in his lead-lined workshop.

In the end, it was the Asbestos that got him. And the lead paint. And the cocaine. You know, now that I’m thinking about it, he sure seemed to drink a lot of paint thinner for a guy who never painted a day in his life. Regardless, we’ll miss you, Pop. Almost as much as the Forever Yogurt on the corner of Jackson and Main.

Snapchat Friend Dies

By David Colton

DAVENPORT, IA — After nearly four years of occasional story-viewing and near-complete ignorance of the fact she existed, Derek van Garble publicly mourned the loss of Kelsey Young Tuesday.

David van Garble, who once sat three rows behind Kelsey in Algebra II, wrote the following in a Facebook post:

“R.I.P. Kels. I never got the chance to tell you this but I always thought we would end up together. I’ll miss you so much </3”

When Kelsey Young arrived at Jeff’s Sunday night, she had no idea there would be that much alcoholic yogurt — it was her favorite thick fluid. But for Kelsey, it was also the first horseman of her dairy demise.

“I’ve never seen someone suck down that ‘gurt the way she did,” said Bob Huxley, assistant manager at Jeff’s Discotech and Yogurt Hub, “It was one of the single most exhilarating things I’ve ever experienced.”

But Kelsey didn’t die from Yogurt alone. It was a complex and horrifying sequence of events, that objectively actually looked pretty cool.

After Young’s fifth Yoplait Hard of the night, she stumbled into a supply closet and stepped on a rake, bonking herself right in the noggin. Then, as she backpedaled and went “whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” she fell off the Jeff’s balcony into the giant people-sized punch bowl that was filled with — you guessed it — Yoplait Hard. Of course, she wasn’t dead then, just surrounded by alcoholic yogurt. But her time was coming, and it was clear she knew. When onlookers asked if she needed assistance, her response was simple.

“I am the yogurt now, and the yogurt is me. Goodbye, society. I am finally allowing the ‘gurt to consume me.”

Kelsey was 24.