Breaking "Urth" s'news: hot from the Peeperhole!

Agent "Billy" reporting from Ham-hurst/Hat-head region, "da Urth"

Rollicking picknickeers from a St. Buckrams's Bathylogical Hoodie-Church horseless-carriage caravan (that was likely headed to some Urthly fun-plus-sun-minus-sin) today were shocked, horrified, and no doubt secretly tickled when several lashed-down cases of bottled water--possibly bottled holy water--broke loose from their moorings in a tight turn into a steep grade. The fragile card-board boxes jettisoned themselves from the Hoodie-Church's over-stuffed lawn-care trailer and were smashed open on the pavement below and behind. From their revealed innards erupted a torrent of dozens upon dozens of H2O-filled flasks! This tragedy occurred very near the heavily-trafficked Intersnaked Highway boarding ramp in the tiny potato-commune of Hat-Head, ironically just across from the site from where a once-famed, now-demolished Bowling Palace had once stood.

Such a scene of hell-for-leather rolling mayhem was never seen in strife-addled Puta Babylon or the heckest hole-hills of berserker-ruled Lesser Lower B'bottomland, let alone the sleepy Narragansett village of Hat-Head! It took all this reporter's skill and verve, with the thankfully agile Geoprizm as steed, to run the in-motion Poland Water bottle obstacle course, as most of the galloping escapees were tumbling down-hill at tremendous velocity, impacting with each other hither and thither, and rocketing madly in every conceivable direction--very much like spilling logs in some Indonesia Jane moving picture action-thriller. A full ten or so of the crystalline containers--like a determined squad of footballers intent on a score--remained in tight formation and headed straight for the front right wheel of the Geoprizm but a deft maneuver outwitted them. Effort spent, they washed up far behind on the boarding ramp's traffic island.

A less adept carriage-driver, piloting a sanctimoniously embellished "High-Bred," heedlessly flattened more than a few of the migratory canteens, sanctifying, in his or her nugatory way, an intersection otherwise known for very real deadly danger. Within breathless moments--as if an illegal intersectionary "Water blessing" had been foreseen by higher-ups--a law enforcement representative magically solidified along with his squad car, and assisted in the stabilization of the chaos by advertising a "blue-light" special elsewhere, nodding sternly here and there, and pointing out sights to passing vacationers.