To local paperboy Ace Danson, a brush with death is just another day on the job.
"I'd say almost every day I'm out here I see the grim reaper literally looking me right in the face, coming straight for me. The other day was no different, I just popped him in the face with a tightly-rolled paper," touted the spritely 28-year-old, one hand still on the handlebars. "Look, it's not the first time it's happened. Honestly, death is the least of my worries... I have three pet ferrets to feed, and I am no longer eligible for government jobs for a variety of shocking reasons."
Bold words from a man who, just days ago, began his paper route in earnest, with only ten newspapers and his trusty three bicycles.
"It's just the one street, man. But hell, have you see the shit that goes on down there? That's the real story. I'm not the first one and I probably won't be the last, let's be honest here. Every few days the crappy new paperboy fails miserably. Without us screwing it up, what would The Daily Sun have left to write about? Mysterious vandalism baffling police? I don't think so."
The street in question—a well-known haven for mentally-disturbed grandmothers, seizure-prone breakdancers, rabid dogs, motorbike racing, and unexplainable rolling car tires—also boasts the highest occurrence of locally-concentrated tornadoes year-round, with four or five cropping up a week, baffling experts. But Danson is not concerned.
"I'm almost there, just gotta finish out Sunday and get my commendation," he said, somewhat miserably. "After that I'll let the next poor bastard give it a shot."
And the famous paper, the one that squarely repelled the advances of a schizophrenic grim reaper?
"Man they're everywhere. I can't carry more than like ten at a time so if I'm about to pick up another stack I just let what I got fly for kicks. They're littering this neighborhood and frankly I don't give a shit. Let me just swoop through that crazy guy's driveway up there and I'll grab you a whole goddamned pile of them. You can read all about the last paperboy, too. It's front page news all the time."
As Danson rode away to retrieve the papers for Press reporters, he was immediately struck and killed by a haywire radio-controlled car. The Daily Sun is expected to have full coverage tomorrow.
"I'd say almost every day I'm out here I see the grim reaper literally looking me right in the face, coming straight for me. The other day was no different, I just popped him in the face with a tightly-rolled paper," touted the spritely 28-year-old, one hand still on the handlebars. "Look, it's not the first time it's happened. Honestly, death is the least of my worries... I have three pet ferrets to feed, and I am no longer eligible for government jobs for a variety of shocking reasons."
Bold words from a man who, just days ago, began his paper route in earnest, with only ten newspapers and his trusty three bicycles.
"It's just the one street, man. But hell, have you see the shit that goes on down there? That's the real story. I'm not the first one and I probably won't be the last, let's be honest here. Every few days the crappy new paperboy fails miserably. Without us screwing it up, what would The Daily Sun have left to write about? Mysterious vandalism baffling police? I don't think so."
The street in question—a well-known haven for mentally-disturbed grandmothers, seizure-prone breakdancers, rabid dogs, motorbike racing, and unexplainable rolling car tires—also boasts the highest occurrence of locally-concentrated tornadoes year-round, with four or five cropping up a week, baffling experts. But Danson is not concerned.
"I'm almost there, just gotta finish out Sunday and get my commendation," he said, somewhat miserably. "After that I'll let the next poor bastard give it a shot."
And the famous paper, the one that squarely repelled the advances of a schizophrenic grim reaper?
"Man they're everywhere. I can't carry more than like ten at a time so if I'm about to pick up another stack I just let what I got fly for kicks. They're littering this neighborhood and frankly I don't give a shit. Let me just swoop through that crazy guy's driveway up there and I'll grab you a whole goddamned pile of them. You can read all about the last paperboy, too. It's front page news all the time."
As Danson rode away to retrieve the papers for Press reporters, he was immediately struck and killed by a haywire radio-controlled car. The Daily Sun is expected to have full coverage tomorrow.