Rumors (538 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 2 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by gascs (View user info) at 2004-10-11 22:36:29 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
I looked down into the cup of bitter coffee. We'd been through this several times before. Attaining security clearance for this new job was turning out to be more than I bargained for.
"Andre, we've been hearing rumors of some questionable activities in your past."
I took a quick glance around the tiny interrogation room. Three nondescript walls, no decorations, no markings, just one wall with a mirror (which years of Law and Order have taught me was a two-way mirror) and a door. Not much to see, so I just looked up at the investigator quizzically.
"Found out about the monkeys I've been importing?"
The suited agent glared back at me. Nothing but business.
"Well, we've discovered that when you were nine, you pushed Nancy Filmore into a puddle."
Hmm. That was an odd angle. Not sure if this was some odd tactic, or if perhaps the agent was making a joke of his own. You can never tell what these guys could uncover.
"Yeah... about that. She told everybody in my math class that she was my girlfriend."
"Ms. Filmore committed suicide last night."
Wow. Didn't see that one coming. Still wasn't sure what that had to with me.
"She mentioned you in the suicide note."
I choked and coughed a little bit on the coffee as I tried to swallow it and this reply.
"You can't possibly think I have anything to do with that!" I stammered.
"We can't discount anything at this point. It seems that she never recovered from the rejection..."
"This is ridiculous. Am I some kind of suspect?"
"Listen, this was a suicide. Should we suspect you?"
Dammit, I hate when they play this game.
"That's not all. We found out that when you were 12, you cheated on an art test."
My thoughts raced. What the hell? That was 17 years ago! How could it matter at all?
"What the hell? That was 17 years ago! How could it matter at all?" were my emphatic replies.
"Well, Andre, we've uncovered a pattern of deviant behavior on your part. For instance, when you were 7, you threw a frog out of your bedroom window to see if it could jump just as high back up."
Wait a second. This was really starting to get odd. I hadn't ever told anybody about that. I was so scared, I hid the dead frog under an old dead tree 200 feet into the woods behind my house and never told anybody about it. Ever.
"How could you possibly know that?"
"It goes on and on... when you were 17, you cheated on your girlfriend with her best friend and gave them both gonorrhea, when you were 16, you broke your uncle's windshield with a baseball and convinced him that a hummingbird flew into it, when you were 15, you left the door open and the family dog got hit by a semi truck and caused a 3 car pileup..."
"STOP!" I couldn't take it anymore. How could he possibly know all of this? "Just stop. Please."
"When you were 29, you drove 35 miles over the speed limit and wrecked into a guard rail."
Wait. That was just late last night. There was no way they could know about that already.
"How could you possible have found that out already?"
I knew that I didn't want to hear the answer before I even asked the question.
"Am I... dead?" I asked.
"Oh, goodness, no. That would be far too clichéd, and there have already been 19 UberMadness entries with that exact same theme."
Wait. What's going on here?
"Am I going crazy?"
"Mental illness? No, that's been a theme in 26 UberMadness entries so far. Try something more original."
Hmm... maybe...
"How about stoned out of my mind?"
"Nope. Sorry. Try again. Been done quite a few times."
Ok, come up with something more original.
"Ok, how about this one; what if the prize in my cereal box this morning was some type of reality-warping device, misplaced by the Martians, that forced me into a done-to-death interrogation room scene leading up to some startling revelation?"
"Hmm... let me see... yeah, I think I can fit that one in. Let me go talk to my boss for a second."
The investigator left the room. A musak version Bryan Adams's "Cuts Like a Knife" played over their PA system to pass the short time before he returned, this time with a pink bow tie and a pirate hat.
"Well, Andre, congratulations. There haven't been any entries about a Martian reality-warping cereal box prize. I can let this one slide."
Great, I thought. But there's a still a problem... How could I get out, and why did they have to cancel "Method and Red"?
DUN DUN DUN!
If anybody reads this, do a google search to see if you can find the support page for the Martian cliché device and send them an email. Let them know their technology is being abused.
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Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-06-25 20:45:24 EDT (#)
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 11:48:39 EST (#)
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