The San Jose State Spartans anagram roster

     “Radar Vegans!!” She shrieked, pointing to the tree line. “Foul, nasty creatures!”, she exclaimed, full of fear. Sauna Critter wasn’t your normal dirty, homeless, wino. She was crazy. She saw things all the time. It didn’t help matters that she camped out in front of my hardware store, scaring off customers on a routine basis. I had to go out almost daily and run her off. She actually was fairly attractive. If it wasn’t for not having showered in four or five years, hanging her used undies aound her neck, the three teeth, and the grim reaper tattoo, she’d be downright gorgeous. But she wasn’t. She was awful.
    Everyday, or at least it seemed like everyday, she was posted outside my store front, ranting incoherently about whatever else she made up next. Here she was again, screaming about the make believe monsters hiding in the forest beyond the field across the street.
     " I see you grimy little bastards! Don’t think I can’t see you!"
“Sauna! SHUT UP! Get off my sidewalk!” I said. " Can’t you see them? The Radar Vegans? I think they have ham limits."
“Sauna, I don’t care if they have pork chop limits. Get the hell off my sidewalk!”
“I’M TELLING YOU I SAW THEM WITH HAM LIMITS! I wonder where they got them?”
“The Video Newsmen were hear last night after you left and they were talking to them.”
“I saw them, Honk.” Honk was a nickname I’d picked up in grade school. I used to “honk” like a goose when I laughed. I guess it stuck.
“Sauna, don’t make me go get the pitchfork again. Get off my sidewalk.”
“Oh Honk, you wouldn’t get the forked tool again would you?”
“Forked tool, are you retarded? You’ve got five minutes to gather up your Big Mac boxes before I run you outta here.”
She collected Big Mac boxes, don’t ask me why.
" You do know I have the highest Mainland Score, don’t you?"
“Sauna, I don’t even know how you keep breathing, get off the sidewalk.”
“I have more Beerier Bods than anyone, just ask the Sandal Cajoler.”
I had to ask, “What’s a beerier bod?” She lifted up a Big Mac box. “Oh, right, what was I thinking?” “And who, might I ask is the Sandal Cajoler?”
“He tallies the result of the Mainland Score.”
“Oh. Right.” This was starting to take a turn for the worse.
“Sauna, I’m getting the pitchfork.” " No Honk, don’t! I’ll get my Beerier Bods and head over to the Hernial Coach."
“I need to take my pink thigh pill anyway.”

     She was constantly making up things like this all the time. I have to admit it was comical some of the time. Pink thigh pill? But with the economy the way that it has been, I could no longer afford to let her squat in front of my business. People were scared of her. I think it was the grim reaper tattoo on the back of her shaved head. Or maybe the soiled thongs hanging from her neck. Probably both. Either way, I had to think of someting to get her to stay away from the store. And then it hit me, just be crazier, and scarier than her. I could do that. I grabbed the “forked tool” and headed back outside.

“Hey Sauna?”
" Yeah Honk."
" I was just talking with the Radar Vegans while I was inside and they said they bought their ham limits from the Hernial Coach."
“WHAT!?” she screamed.
“You’re friendly with the Radar Vegans? And so is the Hernial Coach?”
“Yep. That’s right. The Vegans are the ones selling the Coach those pink thigh pills.”
“NOOO!” she was mortified. I was loving it.
“Oh yeah Sauna. You know what else, Celery Top and the dreaded Tricky Rapper and on their way into town. I heard it from the Video Newsmen.”
“NO! Not Celery Top! Last time he took all my Beerier Bods and won the Mainland Score.”
“Well, the Video Newsmen said it was no Notary Blunder. They also said that Tricky was calling in the Postmen Typhoon to punish you.”
Her head dropped to her hands. It was working, she believed it.
“That’s right, Sauna. You better run and hide because I heard the Typhoon is going to give you a saintlier colon. It was posted at the Online Lyre. You’re Uncle Joist told me about it.”
She looked up with tears in her eyes, clutching those damn Big Mac boxes.
“My Uncle?”
“Yep, that’s what he told me. You’re in for it. You better find a good place to hide.”
She got up from the ground and dropped the Big Mac boxes, sneering at me with all three teeth.
“Now, I know you’re lying!” she exhorted.
“Oh really.” I shrugged it off. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
“No I won’t! You know why? I don’t have an Uncle Joist!” she said as she started to walk away. What? I couldn’t believe it.
“You don’t?”
“NO! My Uncle’s name is BUCK!” She laughed as she walked away.
“You thought you had me, didn’t you?” she said.
“Hey Sauna, you’re forgetting your Beerier Bods.” I said.
" Those Big Mac boxes? she quipped. “You can have those.”
“Enjoy Honk, I’ll be back in the morning.”