Local News: County Registrar “Kills” Son

County Registrar “Kills” Son

A Chrislip Thanksgiving dispute has resulted in the fictional, but official death of Bowling Green University student Brian Stinson.  The freshman returned home last week for the holidays unaware that he had been legally declared dead by his mother, county registrar Beverly Stinson.  “Had I known that I was dead, I would have done things much differently,” said the younger Stinson.  “For instance, instead of wasting a month gawking at beautiful girls on campus, I would have haunted their sorority’s shower.”

Historically, Thanksgiving in the Stinson household includes a turkey dinner, a Detroit Lion’s loss, and an intense game of Monopoly.  This year’s argument began when Ms. Stinson landed on Brian’s hotel on New York Avenue lacking the means to pay the rent.  Brian suggested that she sell him Park Place or Boardwalk.  Ms. Stinson suggested that he consider the tuition that she, a single mother, was paying on his behalf.  Things escalated to the point that a neighbor called 911 after Brian charged out of the house followed by a hail of Monopoly pieces, including the thimble.  The entire neighborhood heard Ms. Stinson shout to her son that if he didn’t return, he was dead to her.

The following Monday, Ms. Stinson made good on her threat by issuing a death certificate for her son.  Brian Stinson reportedly died in a fire in his Ohio dorm room and, since there was no body, his mother’s bit of revenge went initially unnoticed by the Chrislip community.  A funeral for Brian was held a week later.  “The outpouring of sympathy was tremendous,” said the grieving mother.  “I realized then that Brian had touched so many lives in so many ways and that I was wrong to kill him.”  Ms. Stinson’s last act before resigning as county registrar was to issue a birth certificate for her son.  

Dylan Lennon Stinson was reported born at St. Jude’s Hospital on Christmas Eve weighing a record 185 pounds.

“How many people get to live their lives completely over from the start?” asked a contemplative Dylan Stinson, staring down at Brian Stinson’s grave on a snowy Christmas morning.  “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do before I go back to kindergarten in five years.  I wonder how my mother feels about breastfeeding again.”

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