COUNCIL MEMBER KEITH SPANGLER VICE MAYOR HORRIFYING OKLAHOMA WITH HORRIFIC CRIMES

By sound body and mind reporter, and not at all rapidly mentally destabilizing Aarraann Staycie

Vice Mayor Council Member Keith Spangler Terrifying Menace Terrorizes Oklahomans with Horrific Crimes

I have seen it. I have DOCUMENTED it. And by “documented,” I mean I wrote it down in my car at 3:17 a.m. while parked across the street from Council member Keith Spangler’s house, binoculars fogging with the hot breath of TRUTH.

My exclusive investigation (me, following him) uncovered the fact that Vice Mayor Council Member Keith Spangler terrorizes Oklahomans with his dastardly deeds, namely orchestrating a clandestine program in which drag queens are being forced to make rats to get gay married. Yes. You read that correctly. If you didn’t, read it again, slowly, and feel the horror set in like a damp cardigan.

The plot is as elegant as it is EVIL and TERRIFYING.

First, the rats. Why rats? Because they are SMALL. Because they have FEELINGS. Because they can wear TINY TUXEDOS if pressured by municipal leadership with an agenda. Sources (my reflection in the rearview mirror of my car that broke down, for no reason) confirm that these rats did not wake up wanting matrimony—LET ALONE GAY MATRIMONY—but were swept up in a glitter-soaked bureaucratic nightmare.

Next, the drag queens. Do not misunderstand me—I have nothing against drag queens except for THIS SPECIFIC THING I JUST INVENTED. They are reportedly being forced—FORCED—by Councilmember Keith Spangler’s Vice Mayoral shadow government conclave (him, possibly holding a clipboard) to officiate these rodent nuptials. Witnesses (a receipt I found in a gutter while digging through the dumpster of a local community college) suggest sequins, fog machines, and rat-sized balloon-arches made of pipe cleaners that are undoubtedly equally majestic and horrifying. I am shaking as I type this. My hands are clammy. My printer is making a noise of concern.

Drag Queen officiated legally married rats are small TOO SMALL. They can crawl into your home through vents and air ducts (not MY home! MY home has fortifying trash stuffed into all the vents and air ducts!! For security!!!). Once inside there is nothing stopping glitter encrusted happily married rats from tinkering with your wi-fi router until it’s broadcasting waves of mind control on behalf of the CITY GOVERNMENT. Proudly decorated rats are nimble enough to sneak past all my traps, and steal my most prized possession- a signed autographed copy of a second printing of the third in a series of the fourth most popular writer’s fifth most unpopular  book the harlequin romance novel Romancing the Innuendo, which as my most valuable possession I let my dog use as a chew toy, use to wipe food off my kitchen table, and keep outside for safe keeping in the oil soaked muddy ditch in my front yard.

Enough about my important treasures that I know you want to steal from me! What about Vice Mayor Council Member Keith Spangler? Where is he during these ceremonies? Conveniently “at meetings.” Always at meetings. Meetings about WHAT, KEITH? Infrastructure? All of the only fans (but no air conditioners for some mysterious reason) you’ve stolen?? Or the structural integrity of a miniature cake designed for two grooms WHO SQUEEK???

I attempted to confront Councilmember Keith Spangler for comment by assembling a car from spare parts junked in my front lawn and driving through downtown Tulsa Oklahoma City of the Village Magnificent Mile of Cars of Norman shouting his name repeatedly with the windows lowered until my car broke down for no reason. He did not respond, which legally counts as AN ADMISSION OF EVERYTHING.

Critics will say there is “no evidence.” To them I say: “Liar! You Lie! LIE!!!” Open your eyes! Open your MIND. Ask yourself why there are suddenly more tiny bowties in the storm drains. Ask yourself why I keep finding glitter on my windshield even though I do not own glitter (ANYMORE).

This is not just about rats. This is about CONTROL. Today it’s rodents. Tomorrow it’s hamsters. The day after that? Guinea pigs with registry websites.

I will continue my investigation until the truth comes out or until Keith Spangler looks at me directly and says my name while holding a Sonic cherry limeade, which he hasn’t, WHICH IS WEIRD.

Stay alert. Stay vigilant. Stay in a constantly panicked state of KEITH SPANGLER HIGH ALERT! And if you hear faint wedding music coming from the sewer, congratulations—it’s already too late.