Attention Intern, Part 2

Blogspot/Blogger has recently gotten a bit wack. For some reason, I can't make my font smaller or bigger and I no longer have the option to center my text. Needless to say, it's rim-jobbing this blog's continuity. More on that later.

The following is the second installment of my war with an intern here at work (yes, it's 10PM on Christmas Eve and I'm at work right now). Where we last left off, I jokingly told Gary Thaxton (the intern) that he could smear grape jelly on my desk. In a power play of epic proportions, Gary then wrote a slanderous note on my calender, setting an actual date as to when he would smear said preserves all over my shit. Here is my retort...

Oh Thaxton, you wily son of a bee sting. It hurts. A pain that runs deep into my aorta. Where does this pain come from? The fact that I can’t splatter this page with obscenities the likes of which would make Chris Rock blush. Oh, how I would love to call you a ______ _____ with a ______ and a ____________ because __________ ______ ___ ______ _____ ______ and then you need a doctor to _______ because the ____ ______ every single _____ time you _____ eat dairy.

Where does this intense abhorrence for you come from? Your mildly witty responses to my correspondence? The fact that it takes 20 minutes every night for my chair to readjust to my ass? Or is it that your name reminds me of the eicosanoid, Thromboxane A-2? Surprised? I suppose you didn’t realize I was a triple major in molecular biology, biophysics, and theatre. That’s right, theatre. I got jazz hands like you wouldn’t believe. I suppose you probably didn’t even realize I was first in my class at Princeton, I have an IQ of a hundred and eighty-seven, and it’s been suggested that Stephen Hawking stole his Brief History of Time... from my fourth grade paper.

I also steal lines from Legally Blonde.

I don’t want to claim clairvoyance, but I like to think I have a good idea of what all the news reports will say. Brian Williams stuttering to read the teleprompter, too terrified to understand the unspeakable scope of the horrors to come. Katie Couric sweating through her latest Botox injection, half-weeping while trying to calm our fragile nation as it stands so still. I know you see it too, Thaxton. You’ve had the nightmares as I have...

In the fading wake of the Iraqi War, the world will sit paralyzed as Vice President Christopher "Ludacris" Bridges makes this statement:

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, my fellow Americans... we have officially entered the third month of The Grape Jelly Discord. Despite all of our efforts, coupled with the continued support of the United Nations, the likelihood of peace in this conflict seems less and less likely. Neither side will withdraw and each remains adamant in his position. We are losing ground, but we must not lose hope. At times, it seems as though neither of these men can be reasoned with, but mark my words, peace will prevail. It must. If we allow this senseless war to continue as it has, it will not only destroy what little we have left now, but it may just cause the extinction of the human race as we know it. We cannot have men like Garytron Thaxtonian make us live in fear, let alone fear of a delicious jam. Grape, nonetheless. Nor can our spirits be broken by the iron-fisted swathe of destruction caused by Tyleritianus Fischeroox. These two megolomaniacs must be stopped at all costs, no matter what must be done. I promise you, great nation, we will put an end to The Grape Jelly Discord; otherwise, the price will be not just our way of life, but our very souls. Thank you."

[Aside: First of all, I may have had too much Tylenol PM or something when I wrote this so don’t report me to a mental institution or anything. But can’t you just picture Ludacris standing at some tattered and busted-up podium, with the New York skyline as his background? I picture like half of the Brooklyn Bridge is destroyed, just like in I Am Legend. Ya know, like burning cars and bodies strewn about; a real post-apocalyptic warzone type setting. Oh, and Ludacris is the Vice President to President Gerald Ford. Yeah, Obama resigned after failing to stop the conflict before it began, so they took all the parts of old presidents (Jefferson’s prose, Lincoln’s beard, JFK’s Bostononian accent, Gerald Ford’s name, Millard Fillmore’s way with the ladies, etc) and combined them all into this one super-president, only he couldn’t make the speech because they were still adding Andrew Jackson’s badassness.]

The End.


NOTE: I originally didn't intend on using Gary's full name, but he seemed like a good shit so I just did it. Sue me.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Please do not sue me.