Note: This article is satirical.
For three years, we here at The Hall Monitor-Herald have been proud to deliver hard-hitting news, thought-provoking editorials and the occasional baby. It is with great sadness with which we announce that Old Man Potter has decided to shut down The Hall Monitor-Herald due to lack of Twitter followers, and also that the Colorado Board of Medicine has revoked our obstetrician license.
We know this announcement will come as a surprise to many people, especially all the mothers who gave us a positive review on the comment card. Mothers, we appreciate all your love and support, and although we recognize that legally naming every child in Larimer County born during the month of July “Mortimer” was perhaps a breach of trust, we feel that there is no need for legal action at this time. And to all the little Mortimers out there, we’ll be home real soon. Just you wait.
As all several of our regular readers may know, last week, Old Man Potter — who, of course, has begrudgingly funded our makeshift operation since its humble beginnings and holds an iron-tight monopoly on the housing developments of Fort Collins— issued us an ultimatum: “Collect at least two dozen Twitter followers by close of business on New Thursday, or I’ll be forced to shut you vagabonds down for good.”
In spite of already having 10 Twitter followers, unfortunately we were unable to secure 14 more by the deadline. Primarily, this was because we spent much of the week trying to decipher what Old Man Potter meant by “New Thursday”.
After consulting the Ol’ Fort Collins charter and realizing that “New Thursday” was the politically correct term for “Friday” between the years of 1878 and 1954, our Public Relations team set about at once to increase our social media presence. We briefly thought that we had obtained several dozen more Twitter followers, but unfortunately, our PR team had simply confused Twitter with Tinder, a popular dating application.
Although they ultimately failed in their mission, our 14-man PR team does report overall satisfaction with the multiple causal relationships they are now collectively engaged in, and have since been promoted.
In a last-ditch effort to save The Hall Monitor-Herald, our writers took to the streets and alleys of Fort Collins, where they of course reside, to beg passersby to follow us on Twitter. Several of the confused pedestrians were quoted as saying, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” “Who or what is the Hall Monitor-Herald?” and, “Please leave me alone, I already gave you everything in my wallet”. We did everything we could, but just like the contents of that last person’s wallet, it wasn’t enough.
As the last light faded from Second-Wednesday and dawn broke upon the Hall Monitor-Herald’s office atop the Old Horsetooth Lighthouse, we all sat around together, trying to appreciate our final moments as colleagues. In a way, it was like nothing had changed; we talked, laughed and workshopped complex conspiracy theories about the sinking of the Lusitania just as we always did, but there was something melancholy about it.
Maybe it was because we knew it was the end of an era. Maybe it was because we could all feel in our hearts that things would never be the same. Maybe it was because our one-legged beat reporter, Dakota James, kept playing the Johnny Cash song “Walk the Line” on repeat on his walkman while sobbing uncontrollably. Either way, New Thursday had set, we were finished.
But then, something miraculous happened; from the bottom of the lighthouse we heard the disconnected, atonal singing of dozens of Fort Collins citizens, each attempting with various degrees of success to sing past the first few lyrics of “Auld Lang Syne”. In astonishment, we looked down, to see all our old friends — CSU President Tony Frank, Fort Collins founder Lucifer Collins, Old Man Jebediah and the rest — all rounding up the lighthouse’s spiral staircase and occasionally tripping over one another.
As it turned out, our old friends had put together a “Save the Herald” fund. We were overjoyed. And though our feelings of merriment were tempered somewhat by the fact that they had robbed the “Save the Poudre” collection fund by crossing out the word “Poudre” on the money jar and replacing it with “Herald” and then claiming there had been a clerical mix up, we could not have felt more love from our community.
All in all, the “Save the Herald” fund managed to raise 17,000 dollars. It was more money than we had ever seen in our lives, even with all the time we spend hanging out at the Denver Mint with our eyes closed. Truly, we thought, The Hall Monitor-Herald would live forever.
Unfortunately, the $17,000 was not enough to satiate Old Man Potter, who does not believe in money, only Twitter.
The Hall Monitor-Herald was written by Lauren Funai, Niles Hachmeister, Patrick Hoehne, Chris Vanjonack and Andrew Walker and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Find The Hall Monitor-Herald online at thehallmonitorherald.com and forever in your hearts.