A back issue, pulled from the morgue exactly as it was buried. One edition a week, set in the back room of Daily Ribbit Media Holdings, printed on whatever the property room can't account for. The names are changed to protect the guilty, which in this swamp is everyone. What follows is a work of parody.
Page One · Courts Desk
Trial Adjourns For Seventh Time; Defendant Says He "Had A Thing"
Croaktown's longest-running case grinds to its usual pause as the swamp's most notorious frog charms his way out of the courtroom before lunch.
By our courts correspondent, filed from the back bench
The defendant arrived at the lily-pad courthouse eleven minutes late, greeted the bailiff by name, complimented the prosecutor's tie, and had the whole proceeding adjourned by half past ten. Reached for comment on the record, he denied everything, charmingly, and then denied being charming.
The Gazette has reviewed the file. There is a great deal of it. The charges span shell pondcompanies, a storm-drain casino, and a lily-pad rented to forty-one tenants at once, and yet every witness who could tie it together has, this correspondent notes, recently gone fishing in the islands. The court will reconvene when it can find a frog willing to hold a note.
Continued on the recordThe full rap sheet, count by count→Business & Filings
Seventeenth Shell Pondcompany Reports Record "Nothing"
The Registry of Ponds & Shells confirms all seventeen holdings remain dry, solvent, and impossible to serve papers on.
Croaktown's Registry of Ponds & Shells published its quarterly filing this week, and the numbers are, as ever, a masterpiece of subtraction. Seventeen shell pondcompanies reported combined assets of one brochure, forty-one un-built lily-pads, and a float that legally owns the moment between a dirty fly and a clean one.
Every registered agent listed is a cousin last seen fishing in the islands. The parent trust above all the ponds answers to a single frog who carved his mark under a rusted grate and never left. Ask him and he'll tell you there are only seventeen. There are only seventeen. Stop counting.
Continued on the recordThe Holdings — all seventeen on file→Nightlife & Numbers
Storm-Drain Casino Reports Zero Winners, Zero Losers, One Very Happy House
The Cattail Street Ribbit Casino wraps another record week. The books, audited by no one, ever, in accordance with policy, balance perfectly.
Down in the storm drain off Cattail Street, the tables ran hot all week and the house, as always, ran hotter. Management reports no winners and no losers — only the house — a result the Gazette is assured is statistically routine and legally none of our business.
Security was provided, as ever, by a trench-coated associate who was seen everywhere and remembered nowhere. Patrons betting swamp-bucks on who could hold a croak longest report a lovely evening and no memory of leaving.
Continued on the recordThe job — The Cattail Street Ribbit Casino (§ 04.2)→Family Desk
Soft Twin Across The Water Files Another Report; Pays Taxes On It
The good one is at it again. Sources describe a frog who does everything right, sleeps worse for it, and keeps a receipt for every fly he's ever owned.
Across the water, a certain law-abiding relation — clean record, spotless pond, receipts filed in triplicate — was seen this week at the desk sergeant's window filing a report against a frog who shares his face and none of his scruples. Officers took the statement, thanked him warmly, and lost it before he reached the door.
The Gazette will not print his name; the swamp knows the difference between the twins the way it knows still water from moving. One does everything by the book. The other owns the pond the book was nailed above, and the book has since gone missing from the property room.
Continued on the recordThe feud file — the two frogs across the water→Property Room
Evidence Locker Reports Shrinkage; Desk Officer Saw Nothing
Three exhibits from an ongoing case are now logged as "shrinkage." The property room's official position is that they were never there.
The Gazette has learned that the swamp's evidence locker is, once again, lighter than its ledger. Three exhibits from the defendant's own case — a tongue-print, a casserole receipt, and something the clerk would only describe as "warm" — have been reclassified as property-room shrinkage and stored, per salvage protocol, somewhere warmer.
The desk officer on duty was Officer Croaksworth, who keeps a clean desk, an empty cell, and, as of this week, a new watch. He saw nothing. He was very clear that he saw nothing. The Gazette respects a frog who commits to a story.
Continued on the recordCroaktown Dictionary — "Property-room shrinkage"→Society Pages
Pondbank Reports Record Collections; No Late Payments On Record
Mallory Mutual closes another quarter with a perfect repayment rate. Depositors describe the experience as "loud but fair."
Mallory Mutual Pondbank posted a flawless collections quarter, a feat management attributes to sound lending, community trust, and a proprietor who accepts no late payments and no excuses. Interest is charged, per the bank's charter, in gratitude and fear.
The Gazette attended the quarterly mixer and can confirm the canapés were excellent and the small talk was brief. Everyone paid on time. Everyone always pays on time. This is not a coincidence; it is a business model.
Continued on the recordThe crew — Big Mama Mallory→The Blotter
Third Witness This Month "Goes Fishing In The Islands"
Maritime relocation services report another satisfied one-way customer. Repeat business remains, by design, impossible.
A frog who spoke at length with the wrong desk officer last week has, the Gazette is told, gone fishing in the islands. He joins two others this month. Gone-Fishing Fisheries Inc. declined to comment, citing a policy of never commenting, and a manifest that lists no returns.
Down at the Lily-pad Lockup, the warden confirms the cellblock ledger is unusually quiet. Cells that were full are empty; cells that were empty are, he assures us, being kept warm for whoever talks next. The commissary is doing brisk trade regardless.
Continued on the recordThe cellblock log — who's inside and why→Letters & Grievances
Reader Mailbag: "I Rented A Lily-Pad And Forty Other Frogs Live In It"
The Gazette's grievance column fills again with the swamp's most reliable literary genre: the letter from a frog who signed something he shouldn't have.
This week's mailbag brought the usual: a tenant who counted forty other names on his lease, a clerk who signed a form he cannot un-sign, and a frog certain he bought a pond that turns out to be a brochure. We print their grievances in full and change nothing.
The Gazette holds no opinion on whether the swamp's most notorious frog wronged these correspondents. We only note that every one of them, when asked, admitted they signed the paper themselves. The tongue-press never lies. The frog holding it, occasionally, does.
Continued on the recordThe Rogues' Gallery — the marks, from their side→