Published June 11, 2006 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
By Aaron J. Brown
Scene: The curator of the Iron Range Center for Art and the Humanities is found murdered with his body contorted into a ritualistic pose. Locals are alarmed to learn that there is an Iron Range Center for Art and the Humanities, it has a curator and that the curator has been found murdered with his body contorted into a ritualistic pose.
Police are baffled by the many clues left at the scene of the crime so they contact Robert Langdonich, a famous expert in Iron Range symbolism who happened to be in town because he never left.
Chief Bozo: Ya, Bobby, ah, what do you make of these numbers here on this naked fella’s chest?
Langdonich: Looks to me to be a code, seven digits, probably a phone number. (Dials number)
(Answering phone) Clerk: Heavy Joe’s Equipment Rental, would you like to hear our specials?
Langdonich (thoughtfully stroking former location of hair): Yes. Yes, I would.
Clerk: We’ve got an imported plow. We’re not sure where it’s from. It’s supposed to say “Till Sure” on the side but it actually reads “Tull Shur.”
Langdonich: Tull Shur, eh? Is that an anagram?
Clerk: No, it’s a plow.
Langdonich: Right. (Hangs up). Quickly, to the HULL RUST Mine View!
Chief Bozo: Ah, Bobby. We’re halfway through the column and you have yet to, ah, introduce the attractive female quasi-love interest.
Langdonich: We’ve only got 600 words. Are you willing to accept such a character without any sort of introduction or development, as though she were dropped from space with a preexisting understanding of everything around her?
Chief Bozo: Well, sure.
Sally (Granddaughter of the Curator): Robert, we must hurry!
Langdonich: Indeed!
(At the Hull Rust Mine View)
Sally: Look how generations of mining changed the landscape of this area!
Langdonich: You think it was mining, do you?
Sally: Well, I can witness actual mining operations currently in progress; look, a train carrying taconite to Duluth!
Langdonich: They may be mining now, but the mining during the Iron Range’s early days was just a cover for something much more important. The early days of the Iron Range were rife with conflict. Warring gangs battled for control over the land. Of these, the strongest were the wookies.
Sally: Wookies? Like from Star Wars?
Langdonich: Don’t even get me started on Star Wars, but yes, we’re talking about remarkably similar wookies. These wookies fed on the pure iron ore beneath the ground. When they seized control of this area they conscripted conquered foes to collect it for them. One night, some of the humans got the idea to start selling the wookie food to Pittsburgh and the trend caught on. Eventually, the wookies got hungry and lost their powers.
Sally: If that’s true, where are these wookies now?
Langdonich: Ever been to a county fair, or a street dance?
Sally: Are you kidding; I’m from Chisholm.
Langdonich: Ever see a guy who kind of looked like a wookie?
Sally: Yeah, you’re right. I did!
Langdonich: There you go. If you need more proof look at that sign over there.
SIGN: “Wookies come and wookies go. Anagrams are hard to write on deadline. Sally, you’re the last remaining heir to the wookie king!”
Sally: This explains so much about my sweater-like torso.
Langdonich: I thought it odd you were wearing long sleeves in June.
Sally: I feel like I should have learned something at this point, but I’m not sure what.
Langdonich: Perhaps, Sally, we’ve learned that people will believe almost anything so long as the speaker sounds knowledgeable. If I look you in the eye and tell you that you are the only remaining heir to an ancient Iron Range wookie monarch, you might actually believe me. Especially if a lot of people buy a book that says that.
Sally: But, it’s fiction.
Langdonich: You can’t spell non-fiction without “fiction,” Sally. Think about it.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.