The Gazette May Be Slow, But Roderick Isn't Giving Up
By Roderick (Whiskers ) McNibble. Sloth Inestigator Divisdon. Ratty News.
There are times in the life of a newspaper when a journalist must rise above adversity.
There are also times when a journalist must admit that the bloody page simply won't load.
This, dear readers, is one of those times.
Deep in the red-dust heart of Australia, the last surviving press of the Dusty Gulch Gazette is currently wheezing like an asthmatic bilby trapped inside a cement mixer.
I rarely go into the third person, but today I must. My whiskers are less twitchy and my need to communicate is great.
As things slow down here in Dusty Gulch, I must send a communication before all is lost.
The once magnificent Whiskers Dynamic Propulsion Unit - known throughout the district as simply The Whiskers Drive - has fallen upon difficult times.
Once, a story could travel from Roderick McNibble's typewriter to the printer in the blink of a kangaroo's eye.
Now?
Well.
Roderick has written the headline.
The Whiskers Drive is still thinking about it.
Two minutes later, it has displayed half a paragraph.
Three minutes after that, the Gazette's website has thoughtfully informed us that it is "taking longer than expected."
This is not journalism.
This is geological activity.
Naturally, suspicion has fallen upon the Honklanders.
Nobody actually knows what the Honklanders have done, but this has never previously stopped the Gazette from blaming them.
According to sources who cannot be named because they are currently hiding under a wheelbarrow, the Honklanders have developed a secret weapon known as the Go-Slow Vaccine.
One injection into the Whiskers Drive and every piston, gear, cog and creative impulse begins moving at the speed of cold molasses in July.
Mrs McFookit has dismissed the theory as "complete nonsense."
She then spent three hours interrogating a goose.
The goose has declined to comment.
Fortunately, the Feline 5 have been called into action.
Their plan is simple.
First, they will surround the Whiskers Drive.
Second, they will stare at it.
Third, they will pounce upon it with the sort of terrifying efficiency normally associated with five cats discovering a mouse in a pantry.
Finally, Mrs McFookit will administer the traditional Dusty Gulch technological remedy:
One enormous yowl at approximately three o'clock in the morning.
There is, however, a more serious matter.
The Gazette has been battered before.
It has survived droughts, dust storms, financial calamity, malfunctioning computers, the Great Cane-Toad Invasion of '87 and one particularly unfortunate afternoon involving Roderick, a jar of marmalade and a ceiling fan.
It will survive this.
And so will we.
Because somewhere beyond the spinning wheels and frozen screens, there are still people waiting to read a story.
People who come here for a laugh.
People who remember things.
People who like a bit of nonsense with their morning coffee.
And that matters.
So if the pages take a little longer to appear, bear with us.
If a photograph arrives before the words, pretend it was deliberate.
If a paragraph disappears, Roderick will blame the Honklanders.
And if the whole Gazette suddenly goes quiet for five minutes...
Don't panic.
It is probably only the Whiskers Drive having a lie-down.
We haven't stopped.
We're still here.
Still writing.
Still causing trouble.
And still, despite everything, having a bloody good yarn.
Dusty Gulch may be slow today...
but we ain't stopped.
Stay Twitchy out there.
— Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Senior Investigative Rodent, Dusty Gulch Gazette
