|
|
| Since my readership numbers in the vast thousands on average, it's no
small wonder that whenever a significant amount of time passes between
written updates, I am bombarded with all manner of calls, emails, and
pony express telegrams asking, "what's the dilly, yo?" For the
most part, I tend to ignore all such inquiries because deep down inside,
I'm just a socially awkward human being with a love for chili dogs but,
this time, I have two very good reasons why this delay occurred: I was
sick and I had a birthday. Also, I was sick on my birthday so
that sort of counts as a third reason in case either of the other two
didn't work for you. Alternatively, it can also be used as a bonus
excuse for those of you who collect such things and/or are playing the
home edition of this game.
These people are playing my game.
| | |
This past Wednesday, as I was sitting down to write my "Born Day
Retrospective" update that I post every year on my birthday, the thirty
pills of Dayquil that I took began to kick in and I could feel my
sinuses begin to crystalize. My mind began to wander, such as it
generally does whenever I forget to tie it up, and I next found myself
browsing the web in a futile attempt to find nude pictures of Martha
Stewart. My search was interrupted when a window popped up in the
middle of my screen; an instant message from someone I didn't know.
His name was Abramoff and he claimed to have a tomahawk missle for sale.
Now, despite the fact that I had no discernable need for a tomahawk missle,
it's not every day that you get a chance to purchase one and I had to
admit that I was giving the idea pause. "I am intrigued," I typed into the
computer at last, "but I have to admit that I have no need that I can think
of for a tomahawk missle aside from the novelty value of owning one."
"Ah, such a rush to decision," came the typed reply. "Let me ask
question."
"I'm 16, female, from Wisconsin," I interjected quickly, my years of online
relationship experience taking hold. I knew the type and I was a pro
at dealing with them.
"No, not that question."
"Oh, sorry. I thought you might be one of those online predators who
troll the internet looking to rob people of their youthful innocence."
"I am, but that not important right now. Do you have vampire problem?"
"No, I can't say that I have ever encountered a vampire," I replied.
"Sorry."
"Not apology. How about toothbrush? You own toothbrush?"
"Yes!" I said excitedly, happy to finally have something in common. "I
have three in fact!"
"Excellent. Tomahawk missle makes excellent toothbrush holder. Also,
it kill vampire."
"I already told you that I don't know any vampires."
"But you might some day," Abramoff replied.
"Truer words have never been typed, my new friend. But how do the missles
kill the vampires?"
"What kind of dumb are you?" came the angry reply. "You not know how
missle works?"
"Oh, I know how missles work against people who are living," I typed, "but how
do they kill someone who is already dead?"
"Osmosis."
An actual missle killing a vampire via osmosis.
| | |
"Wow! You gotta love high tech! Well, and low tech too, I guess,
because if you didn't have low tech, you couldn't really appreciate the high
tech, right?"
"You talk funny. You special boy in town?"
"Well, my teachers used to say that I was special but they generally said it
in hushed tones amongst themselves. I always took that to mean that I
was extra special, like the sauce. What do you think, Abramoff?"
"I think you need to deal for missle or I leave."
"Ok, missle. Gotcha. So, what does this missle look like?"
"Stupid, stupid! Like all other tomahawk. What you think?"
"I think that maybe if you're going to be rude with me, I should just end
this conversation right now, mister."
"Fine, fine. I sorry. Look at any picture of missle. It
look like that. Greenish."
"Does it have pandas on it?" I asked. "I like pandas."
"No panda on missle."
"Well, if I buy today, I can ask that you put a panda on it? I don't
know that I would feel comfortable owning a missle if it didn't have a
panda on it. People might get the wrong idea."
"What you mean 'wrong idea'?"
"If people see me walking down the street holding a missle, they might get
scared and think that I am up to no good. But if people see me walking
down the street holding a missle with a panda on it, they will know that I
am harmless and may even offer to lend me assistance because surely the
missle will be heavy."
"ARGH! YOU DON'T WALK DOWN STREET WITH MISSLE! WHAT YOU STUPID?"
"Ok, Mr. Type-in-all-caps. Calm down. You're just about the
worst salesperson that I have ever had the displeasure of dealing with.
Well, aside from that guy who tried to sell me a wheelchair by
breaking both my legs."
"I do not have time for chit-chat!"
"You know, I don't think that I really appreciate being treated like this.
Here I am shopping online, trying to find a nice little birthday
present for myself and you have to jump in and get all rude about it.
You know, I don't even know if I am in the mood for missle anymore."
It was a lie, of course. After all this talk, I really wanted that
missle, but I was no business school dropout -- that was culinary school.
I learned to bargin
from the best that the Salvation Army had to offer and the best once said
that you need to act disinterested so as to keep the salesperson on their
toes. Of course, the best died from a drug overdose three days later
so maybe I shouldn't be too keen on following his steps exactly.
This guy used to be the best.
| | |
"Oh, come up," said Abramoff, softening up his broken English, "I means
nothing. Missle and you good fit."
"Ok, if I buy the missle today, what else can you throw in?"
"Throw in? Just missle."
"That doesn't sound like much of a deal. When I bought my car, they
threw in A/C and power windows for free. Does the missle have either
A/C or power windows?"
"MISSLE HAVE NO WINDOWS, MORONIC MAN!"
"Ok, and A/C?"
"Argh! That's it. Done here. NO MISSLE!"
*** Abramoff has disconnected
And as quickly as he appeared on my screen, he went away. Well, give or
take like ten minutes or however long it took us to have that conversation.
I got kind of sidetracked and really wasn't paying attention to the
time. It was a sad end to my birthday, leaving me lonely and without
gift. Even now, a week later, my toothbrush remains unholded, lying
ever so carelessly on the counter. I suppose I can just be thankful
that the vampires haven't attacked. At least not yet, because then I
would be in real trouble. |
| | (1 comments) - Read Comments - Add Comment - Rate This Update |
|
|
