“IF YOU CAN’T DEPEND ON YOUR GOVERNMENT, YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON MYTHIC CREATURES!”
When Weekly World News last left The Jersey Devil, he was rehabilitating himself and his monstrous reputation by conducting tours of the mysterious New Jersey Pine Barrens. “Once the virus hit New Jersey, I was out of a job,” says the winged creature, whose real name is Matthew Leeds. “It’s hard to conduct tours with no tourists.”
The legendary creature, the accursed 13th son of the Leeds family, was born in 1736 and was normal at birth but, as his horrified family watched, grew talons, horns, hair and hooves because of his curse. Wings and a tail erupted from his body and, after slapping his family silly with his tail; he flew away through an open window.
“I used to love scaring people,” he says. “But, now, I’m more civic-minded.”
MATT SPRINGS INTO ACTION
“Matt” sought to find out the cause of his loss of business. He hired a local newspaper boy to deliver every day. “The more I read, the more infuriated I became. It really pissed me off. The nearby town has sorry of adopted me, they all tolerate my looks and my stench. I went into town to see how bad things were. They were bad. Elderly people and the infirm couldn’t make it to grocery stores and, even if they did, they had to wait in lines. Try doing that while using a walker.
“So, I thought, ‘Hey, I have wings. Might as well put ‘em to work.”
And, so, the Jersey Devil began making food runs, landing in the parking lots of various supermarkets, handing in orders and carrying them away in his massive talons. “The first couple of days were tough, between people staining themselves and passing out when I landed. Then, folks gradually, got to know me. They considered me their ‘pet,’ a big stinky pet.”
“His stink? It’s borderline ‘butt’ with just a whiff of ‘urine.’”
Raoul McKenzie, the manager of a nearby Shop-Rite said, “His heart was really into this. And we respected that. When he worked at the Pine Barrens, he was hosed off with deodorant every day. It was a state job. Now, without the state taking care of his hygiene, we felt we had to step up. People love him but his stink? It’s borderline ‘butt’ with just a whiff of ‘urine.’ We hose him down with Old Spice every morning. It costs a pretty penny but it’s worth it.”
Says elderly grocery recipient Blanche McGann, “We noticed the change in his stank right away. It made him more self-confident. Plus, his use of Old Spice reminded me of my late husband. And all the produce he delivered was fresh!”
Things were working out well. But then, the Jersey Devil discovered that local hospitals didn’t have enough equipment: masks, gloves, PPE, hand sanitizer. “That just burned off the Old Spice,” recalls Matt. “I asked what the heck was going on. People told me that, in Washington D.C., a guy named Jerome or Gerald or Jared was hiding all this stuff. That this jamoke had the balls to declare that the ‘national stockpile’ of equipment wasn’t ‘our’ equipment but ‘theirs.’ That got my wings flapping. I’m a citizen of this country! We’re all in this together! All I knew was this guy was rich and pasty. So I headed to D.C., but I got a tip that he was hiding in New Jersey!
“I flew him around and around until he told me where his secret stash was.”
“I got the co-ordinates, zipped over to his joint. He was taking a selfie when I landed in front of him. The guy made a sound like a skunk meeting a truck, head-on. His screech was so high-pitched it cleared my sinuses. So, I lifted him up and flew him around and around and around until he told me where his personal stash was.
“I almost herniated myself lifting all that stuff to local hospitals. Afterwards, I flew him back to his compound, making sure I pricked him with a talon. That pasty-faced wimp is going to smell of ‘butt’ and ‘urine’ for a good six months.”
As to The Jersey Devil’s future plans? “As I said, I was born and raised in this country. I will do anything and everything to help the citizens of this great nation…except for the governor of Georgia. I have a talon with his name on it.”