In a nearly unanimous vote last week, the Duluth School Board approved a deal to sell Central High School to Kwik Trip for $1.  As part of the agreement, the school district will demolish the building and build another access road into the site.
Kwik Trip Regional Vice-President Alexander Fountaindrink praised the school board’s vote. “This will be a great addition to our expansion in the Northland,” he testified. “There’s a lot of room up there on the hill, so we’re planning to put in ten to fifteen new stores at that location. We’re calling it Kwik Trip Central.”

When a citizen asked the board how much the agreement would cost taxpayers, Board Chair David Kirby sighed, removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then placed his forehead carefully down on the desk and appeared to fall asleep. The citizen returned to her seat, casting baffled glances over her shoulder.

Member Loeffler-Kemp spoke up. “Isn’t it true that in addition to providing great service and great value, Kwik Trip also offers an assortment of great food items?”
Fountaindrink leaned into his microphone. “Yes.”
“Their doughnuts are yum,” said Member Lofald.
“Absolutely,” said Fountaindrink.
Chair Kirby raised his head. “That’s enough discussion. All in favor, signify by grinning.”
A soft light filled the boardroom as, one by one, happy crescents appeared around the table like a semicircle of luminescent fingernail clippings. Sometimes serving on the school board could be tough work, but at other times the members knew exactly why they were there. 
Alas, the perfection was not unmarred. A single No vote came from Member Oswald, that troublemaker, who wanted to hold out for $2.

The running of the Bulldogs

In early March, inspired by the Spanish tradition known as the running of the bulls, residents of several of Duluth’s eastern neighborhoods began what they hope will become an annual tradition: The running of the Bulldogs.
The running of the Bulldogs involves driving the entire student population of the University of Minnesota-Duluth into the streets and forcing them to run to Canal Park. The neighbors run along with the Bulldogs, shouting at them, ringing bells, waving streamers, and throwing firecrackers at their feet.

Event organizer Ben Lapidarius spoke to reporters after the event. “All in all, I thought it went well. It took us a little longer than expected to round up people initially, but once we got everybody out of the dorms, things went pretty smoothly. I can tell you the neighbors really enjoyed it. Some of them, they’re 60, 65 years old, they were chasing the Bulldogs down the avenues like they were young again, smacking them with vacuum hoses and blowing noisemakers in their ears. Just seeing that excitement makes it all worthwhile for me.” 

Students were less enthusiastic. “Strangers dragged me out of my bed at 6:30 in the morning and forced me to run five miles in my flip-flops,” freshman Travis Chickenstock told reporters. “I did not enjoy that.”
“I was abducted from the laundry room,” said junior Sandra Mitosis. “They carried me outside in my own laundry basket. That was very rude.”
 “We kind of view it as our turn to have a little fun,” chuckled Lapidarius, when advised of the complaints. “These college kids have fun all the time, but we neighbors are the ones who have to clean up their messes. That’s okay. We’re not complaining. It’s part of living near a college. We don’t mind the litter and the shouting in the streets and the occasional person passed out on our lawn. We’re good neighbors, the best you could ask for. We came up with the running of the Bulldogs as a fun way for students to reciprocate that. All year long, they’re a burden on the neighborhood, but for one wonderful day a year, they give back. That’s the basic idea. We think it’s inspirational.”

When asked if he had consulted the students about his idea beforehand, Lapidarius looked puzzled.

Bear sighting delivers familiar excitement

Last Wednesday, a black bear wandered into Lakeside looking for food. Residents gathered in their yards and snapped pictures of the bear, posted videos of the animal to Facebook, and called their friends. A traffic jam developed as passersby climbed out of their cars with their phones. A TV van pulled up. Handsome local anchorman Edsel Moodswing worked the crowd, while the camera crew shot footage of the bear eating dog food on someone’s patio.

“This will be on the news tonight for sure,” Moodswing remarked to a neighbor who was leaning against his mailbox. “It’s maybe not as impressive as the time a bear took a swim in somebody’s pool, or the time a bear knocked over a bunch of backyard grills, or the time a bear broke into somebody’s garage, or the time a bear ate apples in somebody’s front yard, or the time a bear climbed a tree by City Hall, or the time a bear walked down the Lakewalk, but it’s a bear in city limits, man. We’ll build the whole newscast around it.”

“I know you will,” replied the resident. “That’s why I like you guys. You’re not all gloom and doom. Last week, when a bear came out of the culvert down the street, you did the same thing.”
“There’s something about bears,” mused Moodswing. “You can’t have too many.”
“The only time I see some of these people is when a bear shows up,” said the neighbor, looking out at the crowd. “So once a week or so. It helps us all stay connected.”

Pothole registry

In a new effort to raise much-needed street funds, the city is offering residents an opportunity to have a pothole named after them. “For years, we tried to fix the potholes and got nowhere,” City Streets Coordinator Milland Overlay explained from his office. “Our new approach will be to accept and welcome them. If citizens know of interesting people who should be memorialized with a pothole, for $39.95 they can have that person entered into the Pothole Registry.”

Overlay came up with the idea of a pothole registry when he heard a commercial for the Star Registry, which has been running continuously on AM radio for the past 40 years. “I thought, if people will pay to name a star after someone, why not a pothole?” said Overlay. Like the Star Registry, participants in the Pothole Registry will receive a crisp piece of paper identifying them as the proud namesake of a pothole and a map identifying exactly where the pothole is located. Small decorative markers can be installed near potholes for an additional fee.

One of the first citizens to adopt a pothole was Smithville resident Gloria Kilpela. “When my father passed, the family was wondering how to remember him,” Kilpela told reporters. “In talking it over, we realized that the one thing we all remembered Father doing was complaining about the pothole at the bottom of our street. During the last few years of his life, that passion may have actually been what kept him alive. When we heard about the Pothole Registry, we knew it was exactly what we wanted. The Emil Kilpela Memorial Pothole was officially established last week on Zimmerly Avenue.”

Overlay said he is pleased with the program so far. “Before, half of my job was sending out crews to patch up potholes. I’m so glad I don’t have to do that anymore.”
Ms. Kilpela, too, is pleased. “Every time we hear a crash and see three or four loose hubcaps rolling down the street, we think of Father.”

Our Toys R Us closed first

Two weeks ago, when toy store giant Toys R Us announced that it was filing for bankruptcy and closing all of its stores, Duluth officials were quick to point out that the Toys R Us in Duluth had closed 12 years earlier. “It’s just another example of how far ahead of the curve we are,” said Mayor Larson. Noting other examples of chain stores closing locally, like the Pizza Hut on London Road and K-Mart on the hill, Larson said, “Those companies will probably all be bankrupt in a few years, too.” 

Witches happy with craft district

Two years after the Lincoln Park Craft District was created, area witches are expressing satisfaction with the program. Standing on the sidewalk on 27th Avenue West, Zelda Screebeedeeb took a break from calling down fireballs from the sky to speak with reporters. 
“The Dark Arts were really dying out in Duluth before the craft district was formed,” she croaked, lifting the reporters into the air with a gesture of her arms. “All of our old places in the woods had been overrun by mountain bike trails. We had nowhere to hold our conclaves. Some of the younger sisters were even talking about moving to”—here she looked both ways before finishing her sentence in a harsh whisper—“Hermantown.”
The reporters gasped.
“All that changed two years ago, when Lincoln Park decided to open itself to practitioners of the Craft. Suddenly, we had an abundance of affordable warehouse space to practice our eldritch ceremonies. Once word got out, the whole netherworld descended.”
At last count, five separate covens were operating in the craft district. Screebeedeeb is leader of the West End Necromancers. Unlike some covens, which like to pursue hidden plots behind a veil of secrecy, Screebeedeeb said the Necromancers strive to be inclusive. They have offered several popular classes to the public, including “Pentagram Drawing For Beginners,” “How to Turn Your Neighbor Into A Newt,” and “Repurposing Old Skulls as Candle Holders.” 

“With the right coaching, anybody can tap into their evil side,” Screebeedeeb said. “We even had Mayor Larson visit us last week. She wanted to increase her transparency. By the time she finished her lesson, all you could see was a faint shimmering outline.”
Mayor Larson confirmed this, and extolled the economic benefits of the craft district. “We have unspeakable rituals going on in Lincoln Park that just aren’t happening elsewhere. Wizards from Des Moines and sorcerers from Seattle are showing up to participate. These people, or whatever they are, have to eat and buy gas like everybody else, so it really helps the city from a revenue standpoint.”