Throughout the course of our exhaustive research efforts here at Ephemeron.net we often come across dubious sources regarding vice president Dick Cheney’s true whereabouts, a great number of which prove to be forgeries or confused accounts of similarly bald, sneering politician heart patients, and very few of which yield significant, tangible results. While we of course only present to you, the reader, our most reliable findings, there are unfortunately farces being perpetrated by unnamed parties on a constant basis. However, there occasionally comes along a source so seemingly ludicrous to warrant investigation in spite of its potential fictitiousness. Such was the case when the following memorial was anonymously forwarded to me, clipped from the obituaries section of a January 17, 1985 copy of the Talleyville Herald:
Naturally, the first thing of note here is that Dick Cheney has apparently long been deceased, immediately followed with the fact he was done in by none other than a bowling ball. Also of albeit lesser interest are the names of the family members paying tribute to their fallen patriarch, none of whom seem to correlate with Dick’s known relatives, as well as the idea of Mr. Cheney being better recognized by anyone under the name of “Mike.” Obviously, to have deemed this memorial counterfeit without further scrutiny would be unacceptable from the standpoint of any dignified investigative journalist.
I began my quest with a call to Talleyville, Delaware’s Department of Records, placing an inquiry for any information pertaining to families with the surname of Cheney who may at one time have resided in town. With luck I might have been able to locate one of the three individuals to whom the memorial was credited, or at least a death certificate to affirm that Dick “Mike” Cheney had indeed existed. Unfortunately, the effort was without result, and lacking knowledge of possible maiden names or remarriages, the search appeared to be at an abrupt end. It was then I remembered the circumstances of Mike’s untimely demise, and thought to at least check the local bowling alleys before calling off the investigation entirely. Talleyville, Delaware proved a relatively modest hamlet, with only two such establishments to its credit, one of which opened its doors in 1986, a year after the incident took place. Locating the telephone number of the other, Sir Bowl-a-lot’s Palace, I dialed and was soon on the line with Sir Bowl-a-lot himself, Chester Watts, who in a gruff Northeastern vernacular was able to recount a great deal of what took place on that fateful evening of January 4, 1985.
Chester imparted to me that Mike had been a backup member of the Talleyville Steelworks’ bowling team, and had gained his peculiar handle by way of the fact that none of the other employees could remember his real name. Mike, rather than correct them and fade into obscurity, chose to pretend as though it were his true identity. With team captain Ray Strabrowsky sidelined after an ill-fated scalding accident and a game against archrivals from Riverside Plastics Co. in the balance, it was Mike’s hour to shine. The score tied and a game-deciding frame in hand, he approached the lane amid cheers of “Go Mike!” and “Come on, Jim!” wielding his sixteen-pound “Rolling Thunder” and letting loose-only to succeed in two consecutive gutter balls. The precise details of Mike’s subsequent death are sketchy, as no one witnessed it directly, but with his team let down and heading for the bar, he sauntered dejectedly to the ball return, where Rolling Thunder had yet to make its reappearance. In a fit of mindless curiosity Mike stuck his head inside for a closer look, at which point the ball broke free from where it had found itself jammed and, as a result of considerable, built-up pressure, shot forth like a cannonball, crushing the hapless steelworkers’ skull without a moment’s notice. With Mike’s coworkers oblivious to his inexplicable absence, it was left to Chester to discover the grisly scene hours later.
I asked Sir Bowl-a-lot if he had any details regarding Mike’s family, to which he responded that they’d moved away a few years after the tragedy and hadn’t been heard from since. He also noted that the Talleyville Steelworks had burned to the ground a few years after that and hadn’t so much as bothered trying to rebuild. Finally, I asked if he thought Mike paid any semblance to our current vice president, to which he coarsely replied, “No, no. That Mondale guy is just an asshole.” With that, I thanked him for his time and set out to make sense of what I’d just learned.
There is admittedly the chance that this account represents a grand coincidence, but speculation is often necessary for research to demonstrate perceivable results. Consider that in the past there have been countless rumors concerning the possibility of vice president Dick Cheney as a cyborg or bionically-enhanced entity of some sort. Now, if the government were to construct such an artificial being for the purpose of taking political office, would there be any more suitable identity for it to assume than that of an individual who in the eyes of many never existed, and who is likely forgotten or known as someone else entirely by most others? And whatever became of Mike’s family, who ostensibly disappeared from the face of the earth after his death, or his place of employment, which ceased to be soon after? They represent sources of insight now conspicuous by their absence. Are the mysteries surrounding Dick Cheney now closer to being solved, or have they just become far more complicated than ever before?
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