By Ashley Toland Editor

Mayor Sam Jones and his girl, Mobile, were all curled up together on a lazy Sunday morning. Sam kissed the back of Mobile’s neck and told her how “pretty and economically enviable” she was to the rest of the country.

She got chills.

“I feel like the luckiest mayor in the world, Mobile,” he whispered to her. “I am so proud of you for landing the Northrop Grumman/EADS contract.”

“Thanks, baby, but I couldn’t have done it without you,” Mobile said as she kissed her mayor on the forehead and nuzzled his nose with her own.

But then Sam suddenly got quiet and turned his back to her.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Mobile said with concern.

“Well, I’m just worried you are going to change. I mean thousands of people are going to be moving into you and you’re going to grow and get so busy. Will I still be able to drive down your streets with ease? Will our citizens still be able to afford housing? Will I ever be able to get in my favorite restaurants again? Mobile, will I even know you in a year? Will you still be the same city I fell in love with?” he said as he pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

“Oh puh-leez, Sam. Stop your whining. I am going to change. But it’s going to be for the better. All of these new people coming in are bringing their wallets with them, and it’s going to do so much for us, baby. It should improve my school system and arts scene and on and on and on. And sure, there will be growing pains, but I know we can handle anything together. So not only am I going to be the same city you fell in love with, you’re going to think I am so much hotter,” Mobile reassured.

“Rrrooowww. You are really turning me on, Mobile,” Sam said in his “sexy voice.”

“That’s right and you better watch out because you know everybody’s going to want to be my mayor now. I’ll have all of these hot guys and gals after me. So you better buy me some jewelry or sumthin’,” Mobile teased.

“You can have anything you want, sweetheart,” Sam said as he wrapped back around his girl and they drifted in and out of sleep.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door of Government Plaza. They both shot straight up.

“Open this (expletive) door, you (expletive),” a foul-mouthed female voice said as the knocking got louder.

Mobile threw on her springtime Victoria’s Secret robe and rushed downstairs, leaving Sam on the 10th floor. She opened the door to see a dreary, granola-looking, no make-up wearing city at her doorstep.

“Hello, Seattle,” she said as if she were Jerry greeting Newman.

“You hussy. You stole my tanker contract because you’re in bed with some foreign company,” Seattle screamed.

“Actually. I was in bed with my mayor. But not anymore thanks to you. You just need to calm down. And really, if you’re going to drink that strong, bitter coffee of yours, you really should consider some breath mints or Listerine strips or something. I’m just saying,” Mobile politely suggested.

“I will not calm down. We all know up in Seattle you guys cheated and changed the specs so my sweet precious Boeing didn’t stand a chance. I mean at least you could have played fair,” Seattle said with her burnt coffee and American Spirit cigarette breath.

“Seattle, you know that is such BS. Boeing had every opportunity EADS did, you are just jealous because our plane is better than yours,” Mobile said.

“IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT!” Seattle screamed. “And if you think I’m going to let some two bit, slutty, Southern, redneck city take my contract without a fight, you can just think again. I think you just need to step outside.”

Mobile grabbed her Blackberry out of her pocket and sent Sam a message that read, “OMG! Quick. Call Irvington and Bayou la Batre and tell them to get over here ASAP. Seattle is here and the b*tch wants to get scrappy.”

“Look, Seattle, I know you’re upset. I would be too. But girl, you’ve got a lot of things going for you. You got Bill Gates – that sexy mofo. And all that coffee and girl, your needle is beautiful. I would kill for a space needle like that in my downtown,” Mobile said in an attempt to diffuse the situation until her scrappy country cousins arrived.

“You really think so, Mobile?” Seattle asked in a resigned voice.

Just then a jacked up old Ford pickup truck with mud flaps with naked women on them pulled up in front of Government Plaza and Irvington and Bayou la Batre jumped out.

“Actually, Seattle. I think you suck. We won that contract fair and square because our planes are better than yours. You are just a sore loser. And I hope you recognize we will take whatever we want from you whenever we want it,” Mobile said quite arrogantly.

Seattle lunged toward the Port City but Mobile pushed her down.

Irvington and Bayou la Batre walked up brandishing what appeared to me old mop handles.

“Seattle, I’d like you to meet my cousins, Irvie and Batre. And by the way your needle is tacky.”

“Have fun girls,” Mobile said to the cousins as she left them to have their way with Seattle and she headed back up to her man on the 10th floor.

Update: Seattle is still suffering from a severe case of sore loser syndrome (SLS) and the country cousins broke her tacky needle in half. She begins physical therapy next week. The country cousins have since added a Calvin and Hobbes peeing on the Seattle space needle to the back window of the Ford.

Ashley Toland is Lagniappe editor. Contact her at ashleytoland@lagniappemobile.com.

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