Saturday, January 1, 2000
Happy New Year everyone.
Marketing Director, Percy Grumby II here. The darndest thing
has happened. It seems Alex Ray Jr., our beloved C.E.O., has
been locked into his underground survival bunker. The details are
a tad fuzzy right now, but it seems he witnessed what he interpreted at
the time to be the first sign of Y2K failure at the Happydale Campus
(but was in fact a temporary power outage due to a drunken chemist
attempting to microwave Jiffy Pop during the millennial changeover),
and bolted for the survival bunker, per the Allied
Chemical Y2K Apocalypse Strategy Handbook, Section 8.3-8.7.
| A bourbon stained message was taped|
to the survival bunker airlock door upon which was scrawled, "HA HA
SUCKERS! THE END IS NIGH. I SHALL RETURN TO REBUILD YOUR SHATTERED
WORLD IN MY IMAGE. THE SQUIDS AREN'T GOING TO INHERIT THE EARTH THIS
TIME" Also with the note was a drawing of what appeared to be a WW2
aircraft gunning down some sort of giant squid.
We tried like mad to let him know everything
|From A.Ray. 1/3/00 |
Well gosh that was a HELL of a
Years party. Every New Years it seems like I pull some sort of
boner that comes back to haunt me, but this is no simple lampshade-on-the-head
antic, or unwitting conversion to Islamic Fundamentalism.
Yessiree -- I do seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a pickle barrel
I sort of jumped the gun on that whole
|So, the long and short of it is, I|
locked myself down here. 'Course the kicker is the calendar for
the time lock reads Jan. 3, 1900. I guess them round boys
forgot to make the necessary adjustments and I've been told we're looking
at a few months before you get to see my bright shining face topside.
Despite the unfortunate problem with the
On the other hand, my Coleco Electronic
I certainly don't want to be one of those needle-nosed bellyachers
who actually seemed let down by our failure to degenerate into bloodthirsty
mobs looting the local convenience store, and declaring their block
as a new independent republic. Now honestly, who'd really think
that a bunch of Gap-wearing, Olive-Garden eating, cul-de-sac
dwellers were gonna get all Rambo on us? Did anyone really
believe we'd be besieged by Ford Explorers and Subaru Outbacks
bearing down on Wal-Mart, their freshly welded machine gun turrets
blazing in the night?
|I mean, of course that's what I thought|
when I locked myself in here, but come on, it was New Years Eve, the power
was out, and I was as drunk as a prom queen. Guess I snapped.
Anyway, it's all going to be OK.
I'll be here in my bunker running the company from below.
All is well. My every possible need is met here, and what better
way to spend the winter than with a nearly inexhaustible supply of the
most versatile food known to humanity, Farmer Fred's Happydale Hamspread?
What more could I need? Well, I could use the company of my on-again,
off-again love interest, the lovely Brigitte Bardot, but I've got
the tech boys working on that one.
So Happy New Year everyone. Nice
to see it's all good for another day.
The funny thing is, I still don't know
exactly what I meant about the squids.
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