Eminent Tulsa Humanitarian Distraught After Mysterious Blaze Sweeps Through Museum Of Oily Rags- Baffled Investigators Suspect Foul Play

KIEFER, Okla., April 1, 2005 (NP) – Kiefer residents who were gathered for the grand opening of what promised to be a source of great civic pride watched in stunned horror as the Greater Kiefer Museum Of Oily Rags burned to the ground in a matter of minutes in front of a crowd of over 300 flabbergasted onlookers. The museum erupted into a horrendous blazing inferno at around 3:03 PM, only minutes after the conclusion of an incredibly energetic ribbon cutting ceremony which included eight juggling cats, three tap dancing sloths, and a positively rip-roaring performance of “Friends In Low Places” by an unidentified chubby middle-aged Stetson hat-wearing white man from Owasso.

The fire was so intense that by 3:17 all that remained of the ill-fated museum was a single exhibit called “Asbestos Through The Ages” on loan from the Center For The Study Of Non-Combustible Carcinogens. Interestingly, the giant novelty scissors used to cut the ribbon also survived, as they too were made entirely of asbestos. But those two bright points aside, what we’re talking about here is an honest-to-Rick good old fashioned full blown conflagration. Not surprisingly, the local Up In Smoke film festival was immediately canceled.

Local residents said that today’s grand opening was the biggest thing to happen in Kiefer since exactly six years ago when astonished residents awoke to find that two QuikTrips had sprung up overnight. Their excitement was short-lived, however, as both stores were simultaneously destroyed later that same afternoon by a pair of highly localized but extremely powerful tornados. “Sometimes I wonder if God hates us or something” said Mitch Randleson, owner of the Kiefer Sutherlands Lumber and Home Improvement Center, “I mean, we’re admittedly no Kellyville, but come on! What did we do to deserve this? It reminds me of that Super Bowl Sunday a few years ago when everyone in town flushed their toilets at the same time and the water tower imploded. I guess as a community we’re just not very lucky.”

The impetus for the museum came from Nathan Hood, a struggling entrepreneur-turned-philanthropist from Tulsa who’s disastrous high profile business failures include Monkey Transport Specialists of America, Metro Tulsa Staple Removal & Recycling LLC, and Green Country Tow Truck Towing (motto: “We tow tow trucks, and that’s all!”). After his most recent business debacle, Mr. Hood served a brief stint as a security guard at a local bingo hall before turned his attention to writing self help books for the illiterate. In the words of Mr. Hood: “I seem to have a lot of really terrible ideas on an astoundingly regular basis.”

But his luck changed recently while on a trip to the Kansas Speedway with his wife Josephine, where on a whim he purchased a winning Powerball Lottery ticket worth $32,000,000. “I’ve never even dreamed of having thirty-two thousand dollars all at one time!” exclaimed Nathan in an interview with a local radio station, “Why, I’ll be able to afford to get all four of my quadruplets brand new Trapper Keepers and have enough left over to buy eight new radial tires for the roof of our trailer!” Upon being corrected about the actual amount of his winnings, Mr. Hood immediately fell backwards in his chair and passed out cold as his head hit the floor with a hollow THUD. When he finally regained consciousness seven and a half minutes later, Mr. Hood declared excitedly with slurred speech that he had “seen the light,” and would dedicate the rest of his life to “fill the tropic and chair table pursuits!” The puzzled reporter asked “You mean philanthropic and charitable pursuits?” “No thanks, I already ate!” muttered Nathan before his melon once again slammed into the floor as he blacked out for a second time.

Apparently the inspiration for the Greater Kiefer Museum Of Oily Rags came from a similarly peculiar facility in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee called The Ripley’s Believe It Museum Of Bad Ideas, which was built entirely out of popsicle sticks using water soluble glue on an old Indian burial ground in an area known for its flash flooding and mud slides. “The whole situation is just tragic” said the curator of the Museum Of Bad Ideas while sipping on a glass of mercury. “I mean, sure we store oily rags in the ATTIC, but only Mr. Hood would have thought of displaying them to the PUBLIC in their own dedicated museum! Such brilliance is so rare these days! I’ve gotten to know Mr. Hood quite well as I’ve spent many hours these past few months talking with him on my coal powered phone. Keep your chin up, Nate, because it’s really not a big deal. Heck, my museum burns down about twice a year!”

Back in Kiefer, a throng of reporters asked Nathan how he felt about this latest in a string of truly stupefying failures. “You know…” replied Mr. Hood with a dazed look on his soot covered face, “…I’m…just…now…starting to realize that I’m not very observant… I think I’ll be OK though,” he continued as a faint smirk grew on his lips, “I’ve still got my stock in Git-N-Go to fall back on.”

Nobody dared utter a word as he shoved his hands into his pockets, hung his head, and shuffled off mumbling something about building a museum of burned out broken dreams.

© Copyright Nathan Hood 2005