Eyes Open: Chapter 2 - "PC Load Letter? What the fuck does that mean?" (569 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by a_little_more_time (View user info) at 2006-02-17 10:45:47 EST
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1 - "...Eggs and Bakey...": http://www.ubersite.com/m/72611
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He reread the email again:
TO: Samuel Beck (sbeck.at.glasston.biz)
FROM: Accidental Sightings & Corrections Department (ASACD.at.otherworld.com)
SENT: October 11, 2005, 08:03:57
VIRUS SCAN: Not completed.
SUBJECT: Re: This Morning
MESSAGE:
Mr. Beck,
It has come to our attention that today at approximately 7:25 AM you experienced a Class Three Accidental Sighting. We would like to take this opportunity to inform you that this event was neither scheduled nor authorized by our Crossover Approval Department, and that the offending spirit/entity will be fined accordingly for their violation.
Additionally, we sincerely apologize for any adverse effects this may have on the rest of your existence in the Norm. To ensure any inquiries you may have are adequately answered, an agent from the Newly Aware Service Department will be contacting you shortly. If you decide you wish to seek compensation for your inconvenience or any trauma you have experienced, you may begin the appropriate legal procedures with him/her at that time.
We hope that this oversight will not affect your overall opinion of the hardworking employees of the Otherworld Governance Consortium, and that you will not forget about us when your crossover occurs.
Sincerely,
Adramelk Gray
Otherworld Accidental Sightings & Corrections Department (ASACD) Chairman
NOTE: Please do not respond to this communication. It was sent by an automatic messaging system and any reply to it will not be read.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Samuel stared at his computer screen, scrutinizing the bizarre message as though doing so long enough might reveal some hidden piece of information. All this did, however, was make his headache worse and cause him to develop a slight case of nausea. Half of him wanted to laugh like a mental patient and the other half wanted to put his head through his cubicle wall and scare the bejeesus out of Irina, the overambitious intern that worked next to him, if only to share a small portion of the insanity he had experienced since he'd woken up that morning.
On any other day, he would've passed this email off as some kind of interoffice prank, if it hadn't been for the facts that
a) he HAD seen his grandmother, dead ten years this past April, in his pathetic excuse of a kitchen making coffee this morning,
b) the system admin (Phat Phuck Phil, they called him) on his floor had little to do all day but monitor email for non work-related content and pursue his fetish for pictures of tall women lifting heavy objects on the Internet, and
c) there wasn't a soul who worked for this company that was imaginative enough to think up anything even a fraction as strange as this.
Sam was wondering absentmindedly how the hell this message got past Phil when his desk phone rang. Warily, he picked it up. "Data entry, Samuel Beck speaking."
There were a few notes played on the piano on the other end, then a jaunty song began:
"Boop be-doop a doop,
Boop be-doop a doop,
Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring,
Bananaphone.
Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring,
Bananaphoooooone,
I've got this feeling, so appealing,
For us to get together and sing. Sing!"
Samuel blinked once, then hung up. Almost the moment the handset was down, it rang again. "Data entry, Samuel Beck sp--" The song simply continued on the other end.
"Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring,
Bananaphone.
Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, dong, ding,
do-nanaphooooone..."
He hung up again, only to have another call come in almost immediately. "Is this a joke?"
"It grows in bunches,
I've got my hunches..."
He slammed down the receiver and stood, looking around at the other drones. "All right," he called out. "What's the fucking gag here?" Other heads began to poke up, much like prairie dogs do when one of them exhibits signs of losing its mind. The phone rang a fourth time. This time, he didn't answer, so the voicemail over the speakerphone picked up.
"It's the best! Beats the rest!
Cellular, modular, interactive-odular,
Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring,
Bananaphone,
boop boop be-doop a doop..."
Samuel reached down and, in a display of righteous indignation not seen since Peter, Michael and Samir had taken their holy fury out on the copier down on floor seventeen, ripped the phone out of the wall, hurled it to the floor, and stomped on it, reducing the hapless device to a pile of plastic shards and slivers of circuitry.
He was just about to wipe the frothing drool from the sides of his mouth with his tie when his cell phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. Throwing a look to his staring coworkers that made them instantly duck back into their cubicles and resume working lest he launch himself through the air and chew their faces off, he slowly flipped it open and answered, his voice dripping with menace.
"Hello?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[To be continued...]
User Reviews
Submitted by blueboy (user info) at 2006-03-14 13:17:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Where the fuck did you go?
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-02-18 01:09:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I understand it took you about six months to write this installment, but you could've poked yer head in a bit.
You missed my disappearance from ubersite in december and january.
Submitted by a_little_more_time (user info) at 2006-02-17 16:03:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by JoeAverage (user info) at 2006-02-17 13:24:28 (#)
Ranking: -2
"PC Load Letter? What the fuck does that mean?"
Great title . . . minus fucking two. Dickbag. If you want a good title try this:
http://www.ubersite.com/m/18763
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Whoops! I've been gone so long that there are people here who don't know I could care less about ratings! Well, consarn it, let me help rectify that lil' problem right now:
I could care less about ratings. Fuckscrew.
P.S.: At least I had the decency to read the article you linked (which was pointless, by the way, because I already rated it before you auto -2'ed me. Don't pretend you didn't notice; people like you always do) before I rated it. My hamster has a greater attention span than you.
So, in summation...
1. I don't post for ratings. I post for honest feedback. Most vets around here (though I'm not one) know that.
2. Apes > you
3. Pls die now oki thx
Submitted by JoeAverage (user info) at 2006-02-17 13:24:28 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
"PC Load Letter? What the fuck does that mean?"
Great title . . . minus fucking two. Dickbag. If you want a good title try this:
http://www.ubersite.com/m/18763
Submitted by MichelleNJ (user info) at 2006-02-17 13:10:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-02-17 12:39:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
RING RING RING RING RING RING RING BANANA RAPE
Submitted by matchstickman (user info) at 2006-02-17 10:59:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
wow