DUSTY GULCH GAZETTE

“We Point So You Don’t Have To”

Special Edition
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Editor-in-Chief
(Temporarily Under Debris)

 

It began, as most regulatory disasters do, with a press conference and a laminated chart.

Prentis Penjani stood before the Dusty Gulch Water Tower - recently described in a draft memo as “structurally assertive” - and cleared his throat.

" We have learned of a serious situation developing. " he said. 

“From this day forward,” he announced gravely, holding aloft what appeared to be an Angle Compliance Diagram, “no arm shall extend beyond a socially responsible bend.”

Thus arrived the Zero Extension Ordinance.

The measure was reportedly inspired by a distant railway incident involving a misinterpreted gesture, though here in Dusty Gulch such nuance travels poorly and arrives mostly as policy.

Trevor the Wallaby was furious.

“You took my knees because of things like this!” he snarled, thumping his chest with interpretive intensity.

At which point Mayor Dusty McFookit - squinting into the sun - instinctively shot his arm straight out and pointed at a meat pie in the Crusty Pie bakery window.

“That one!” he boomed. “The meat pie with the extra sauce!”

The CWA Marmaladies pointed enthusiastically at a passing cockatoo. Doris Tredbolt pointed at absolutely everything, just to be safe. Edgar Allthrop, shearer and Emu Brew technician, pointed at the sky in case anything required pre-emptive identification.

Within seconds the town square resembled a choreographed outbreak of Directional Extremism.

Even the Boundary Rider, not to be outdone, raised his arm toward the horizon and yelled, “Weather comin’ from that way!”

The entire crowd immediately pointed at him.

Prentis lowered his chart.

“This,” he whispered, “is precisely what we are trying to prevent.”

From atop the Gazette sign descended Lord Squawk Squawk, Chief Avian Correspondent of Squawk 24/7 Live & Continuous, feathers flared to maximum broadcast volume.

“I HAVE BEEN POINTED AT,” he screeched into a microphone roughly the size of a thimble. “Repeatedly. With full digit extension.”

Behind him, the Mayor was still indicating the pies. The Marmaladies were now pointing at Lord Squawk Squawk pointing at them. Edgar was pointing at a cloud that may or may not have been policy-shaped.

The Boundary Rider muttered, “Reckon if we all stop pointin’, we won’t know where anything is.”

The entire square pointed at him again.

“BREAKING,” cried Lord Squawk, “Mob Targets Rural Worker.”

By late afternoon, Prentis had unveiled supplementary measures:

• Compulsory Pocket Policy

• Elbow Awareness Training

• A five-winged inquiry into Aggressive Indication

Old Bill the Guardsman was the first to comply.

At 3:17 p.m.... the sacred hour of mail delivery, machinery parts, and three crates of tinned beetroot ...the Dusty Gulch Supply Express approached the crossing.

Normally, Old Bill would stand tall and deliver the time-honoured All Clear. Firm arm. Clear intention. Undeniable clarity.

But today?

Hands. Deep in pockets.

He nodded. Very professionally.

Inside the locomotive cab, the engineer squinted.

“Is that wind?” he muttered. “Is that compliance? Is that interpretive acknowledgement?”

No arm.
No signal.
Just a man gently bobbing his head with bureaucratic restraint.

The train proceeded confidently into town.

In the square, Prentis was mid-sentence.

“Subsection 4(b): Permissible Wrist Articulation in Low-Risk Con - ”

The locomotive entered the Town Hall with what witnesses later described as “administrative enthusiasm.”

 

The impact was decisive.

The filing cabinet containing:

• The Zero Extension Ordinance

• The Anti-Pointing Amendment

• The Compulsory Pocket Policy

• The draft Elbow Awareness Workbook

was struck squarely and launched skyward in a glorious explosion of paperwork.

Regulations fluttered over the Crusty Pie bakery. Clauses drifted toward the stockyards. Section 7(a) embedded itself in the water tower ladder.

A drawer labelled “Gesture Sensitivity Framework (Working Draft)” spun slowly through the air before landing in the butcher’s awning.

The locomotive came to rest gently against what had once been the Minutes of the Committee for Appropriate Angles.

Silence.

Dust.

A single page titled Clarifying Ambiguity Through Reduced Clarity drifted into the fountain.

Mayor Dusty McFookit rose from the rubble.

He surveyed the scene.

Then..very slowly - extended his arm.

He pointed at the train.

No one objected.

The children from Dusty Gulch School pointed too. The Marmaladies indicated the crater formerly known as the foyer. The captain of the Gulch River Queen paddle steamer pointed and yelled, “Land ho!” despite being nowhere near land.

Trevor pointed at the sky, just in case.

Even Lord Squawk Squawk hesitated… then dramatically extended one feather toward the locomotive.

“BREAKING,” he declared solemnly, “Signal Failure Due to Excessive Restraint.”

Old Bill finally withdrew one hand from his pocket and delivered the clearest All Clear in recorded Dusty Gulch history. With one finger extended, just to make a point. 

It was applauded.

DUSTY GULCH GAZETTE

Special Afternoon Edition

Filed by Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble

Dusty Gulch experienced what officials are terming a “locomotive-led urban redesign” yesterday following the experimental suspension of arm-based signalling protocols.

The 3:17 Supply Express, deprived of its customary visual clearance due to compliance with recently enacted anti-extension legislation, entered municipal premises with commendable punctuality and unfortunate direction.

The Town Hall has since adopted an open-plan format.

Old Bill the Guardsman confirmed he provided “a firm nod.”

Experts remain divided as to whether nodding carries sufficient aerodynamic authority.

Prentis Penjani, architect of the Zero Extension framework, described the destruction of the filing cabinet as “a regrettable paperwork casualty.”

The Gazette can confirm that Subsection 4(b) was last seen ascending at a dignified angle before descending into the bakery guttering.

Lord Squawk Squawk, broadcasting from a bent weathervane, emphasised that while no avians were physically harmed, he was “emotionally grazed.”

In a rare moment of bipartisan agreement, the town council convened beside the rubble and unanimously adopted a new civic principle:

When necessary, point at the thing.

The motion passed without dissent, largely because everyone was already indicating it.

At press time, Old Bill was observed performing a textbook All Clear.

The train, having already cleared the building, remained unmoved.

Dusty Gulch, meanwhile, rediscovered an ancient truth:

Clarity outruns compliance.

And sometimes, you really do need to show where the train is going.