December 12th, 2024
Dear Mr. Beaty,
Your dispatch and the delightful dispatches your children sent to Santa Claus warmed the heart of the aging King of the Literary Daredevils.
Congratulations on your new typewriter! For your whatnot: some years ago I read that Ernest Hemingway banged away on his typewriter while standing up. You may find this scrap of information arresting and elect to follow Hemingway’s lead (or not). Some additional chapter and verse on typewriters: gangsters from the 1930s referred to Thompson submachine guns as “Chicago typewriters.” I concluded my first book “The Kansas City Massacre, Volume II, The Digital Edition” with that delicious scrap of evidence.
My current world-record literary stunt is sending Mr. Gary Sadlemyer (the morning protagonist on KFAB1110 AM) a dispatch every Monday and Friday with ungovernable news from West-West Omaha. Tomorrow (Dec 13), dispatch #43 will be mailed. Two of my West-West Omaha dispatches are attached for your bulging consideration.
Merry Christmas & Much Obliged,
Haywood Fudd
My kids must have trusted me that their Christmas lists were successfully posted to Saint Nick since they never challenged me on the topic, but for good measure, additional lists of demands were penned and placed beneath our synthetic Christmas tree. I tried finding a copy of The Kansas City Massacre, Volume II, The Digital Edition online, but without success. I had a feeling that comment was a gag, but then again, what if it wasn’t? What if this magical work about mobsters and machine guns in the central plains really was out there somewhere? Just waiting for me to find it, be educated on Midwestern crime syndicates, and learn fun facts about fully automatic weapons, as told by a man whose only aim is to bring happiness to those he crosses paths with? That, is something I want to believe in.
And even though the only result the Google search on the topic yielded was a 1975 made-for-TV movie that Fudd undoubtedly had seen, I still choose to believe in this digital sequel, living in a far off-realm of the Internet, that seems attainable yet so distant.
Tis the season to believe after all. Or at least it was when I got this letter.
The letters to KFAB public radio host Gary Saddlemyer were different. I had no doubt Fudd actually wrote those, and sent them, twice a week, just as he said he did. He didn’t need to send me proof, but he did. Twice. Which according to his note, were the 42nd and 43rd letters he had sent Mr. Saddlemyer. I never listened to KFAB and never heard of this morning-talk-show-host, but another Google search suggested that he never made use of Fudd’s news from West-West Omaha. If you place “gary saddlemyer haywood fudd” together in a search engine, the query only retrieves a link to my own website—at least those are the only results that Google thinks I want to see.
But Fudd seemed undeterred by this lack of acclaim or recognition. He kept at it, up until Saddlemyer announced his own retirement after a fifty-year career on morning radio. Fudd wrote him until August 4th, 2025. Another 58 letters in all after the two that he had sent me. Making exactly 100 total.
I know this because in 2025, he sent a spiral-bound compilation of them all as my Christmas present.
And as it turns out, Gary Saddlemyer wasn’t the only public figure Fudd had been writing twice a week, but more on that later.
Exactly 100 letters more on that later.
December 9th, 2024
Dear Mr. Saddlemyer,
The latest news from West-West Omaha:
Nero Haberkorn, 65, of Avoca, Neb., testifies the first things he’s going to ask the supreme architect is why he allowed the NCAA to pass the name, image, and likeness hooey that’s going to massacre any hope of the Huskers to ever win the national championship.
Henrietta Cordell, 77, of Ulysses, Neb., wears an apron everywhere including to Sunday school, the five-and-dime, and the funeral parlor.
Klaus Forrester, 72, who roosts near Plum Creek off of County Road 23, which is a country mile north of Bee, Neb., trumpets he wouldn’t live in a big city for all the gold in Fort Knox but that he’d give his eyeteeth for an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet near his spread.
Jack Moon, 85, of David, Neb., smells old.
Much obliged,
Haywood Fudd
December 13th, 2024
Dear Mr. Saddlemyer,
The latest news from West-West Omaha:
Vernon Cripple, 61, of Staplehurst, Neb., is back to saving money to buy a used tank. “Owning a tank is my sole obsession. I can’t get owning a tank out of my system,” testified Vernon who certifies quality used tanks are divine investments. Vernon previously saved for a used tank in 2014, 2016, 2017, and 2021.
Mayme Dempsey, 81, of a Abie, Neb., says Omaha should give some strapping consideration to changing its name to Omaha-ha for what she certifies are “prima facie” reasons. Mayme remains a whale of a devotee of Johnny Paycheck who achieved country music repute with his ditties “Take This Job and Shove It” and “I’m the Only Hell (Mama Ever Raised).”
Justus Crawl, 55, of Dorchester, Neb., says it’s not the brutal winters that ruffle his tail feathers, but the number of drivers he encounters on the roads who drive as though they couldn’t hammer a railroad spike into a snowdrift.
Soothsayer Poe Dansk, 68, of Prague, and Neb., is predicting the world is going out of business next Tuesday between 3:00 and 4:00 PM, but no later than 5:20 PM CST.
Celeste “Lady Godiva” Feemer, 49, lives outside of Pickrell, Neb., on SW 2nd Road. Lady Godiva’s chock full of pizzazz, oomph, and all that jazz. On Flag Day last year, she blasted through Pickrell on her Harley and the only thing she was wearing was vintage motorcycle goggles.
Much obliged,
Haywood Fudd
