Walter Miller's Homepage

Concieved, written and developped by imaginery photonic life forms

Early August...HAH! Gotcha!

(No, its still the Late January 1999 Update)

Page 4 of 4


Cyberblop is so danm stuppid. They are owned by Corporate, and the whole idea of the Cyberblop project was to be a more nimble (ugh, I hate that word, 'nimble') versien of Corporate. But insted they are just as buerocratic.

They have this thing called 'The New Suport Procedure.'

The way the "New Suport procedure" works, is that you call a danm Toll Free number, and they hook you up with Corporate's Workstaton Suport Control Center somwhere on the other side of the countrey. Then they make a 'Dispatch Ordor' which ends up being e-mailed right here at your own location. And the persen fixing your machine is the same idiot whose outside there in Marlborro Country.

Who came up with this dumbass New Suport procedurre? It was develloped by some very high-up iddiot who works at Corporate's home office, who needed somthing to do after he got demoted.

"I am not touching your workstation until i get my Dispatch Order in my hand," she huffed in her sqeuaky, toady little voice. The big tall scary guy with greassy hair smoking with her hissed at me, "Why dont you stop bothoring people?"

She was NOT worth talkin to

And so I stourmed back inside. On my way back to my cube I passed Dr. Gaius's office.

"Boy, is your machine effed up," he snarled at me. I started to complaine about this whole sitaution with the New Suport Proceddure and he told me that if I didnt comply with the danm procedure I woud be out of there so fast the ink woudnt be dry on my pink slip.

I qiuckly got away from this guy. When turned the cornor of the aisle that led to my cube, I bumped right into the creepy pointy-faced "...For Dummies(TM)" guy who was so insisstent before that "I worked for" him. He was just comin out of the doorway of his office Like i said he was all dressed in black from head to toe but now he was brushin somthing off himself that looked like giant dandduff but insted it was those little round paper punchouts from the three-hole-punchor..

"I wasnt kidding about you gettin that web project done, and on the test server ASAP!" he yapped.

I started to tell him that my Workstation was down and that I had to deppend on New Suport Procedures but he was not interrested. He pointad inside his office and there on the floor was the big threehole punchor with the bottom popped out and abuot a milion of the tiny papper things allover the carpet.

"I'm off to New York to close a co-branding deal," he sneered, "You stay behind and clean this up!

Now I was realy startin to get upset abuot things.

I going from being angry and pissed to defeated and crushed. I stopped in the men's room to take a leak and just when I was at the urinol GEUSS WHAT: Two women walked in.

Just when I thoght things coudnt be more upsetting. This was especialy upseting to me, and here is why. Up until age 14, I suffored from Bashfull Kidney Sindrome which means that you cannot pee in front of othors in a public place. With allot of therapy it was VERY hard to get over and all of a suddon here were these people I never saw beffore walk in, and they were womon.

Men, in public urinols, somtimes, (I dont know why), often glance over to check out the guy next to them. (You know, to sort of size up the compettition's equipment. Atleast Ive seen othors do it.) And I tell you right now I sure as hell didnt want a woman doin that to me.

Then anothor thoght entered my mind: What if one of these womon was my Secret Admiror? I spun my head arround to look at them and while I stood there with Mister Winky in my hand my eyes met the eyes of two rathor startled looking ladies who worked in Marketing who I never realy formerley met. I was wincing in enbarassment. But the ladies must of thoght that my wince was a smile but it was not a smile. The look they were giving back to me turned from being startoled to pure disgust. Disgust toword me for what they thohgt was a smile.

I got so enbarassed that I started trembling, (no, I am not talkin about "the shiver" -- you know what "the shivor" is -- but insted some more actuol tremmbling) and althuogh the ladies coudnt see nothing, (winky-wise, I mean nothin winky-wise), they quickly walked away from me in hushed tones of horror folowed by shrieking laughtor and the next thing that hapenned to me, well, um, sufice it to say that acertian amount of profound shrinkage was imediatly evident.

As you know, all men must deal with shrinkege. Howevor, there was one small complicattion: Shrinkege, (we are talking extreme shrinkege, profound shrinkage, shrinkige bordoring on inside out shrinkage for Godsake), which occurs while you are in mid-stream so to speak can be dissastruous. And this is ecaxtly what hapenned. It shrunk while I was tryin to direct the stream, and please try to immagine if you will, how much easior it is to water your lawn with a nice long plyable garden hose as oposed to nothin but a small bare non movable faucet stickin out of the side of the danm house and I not only crossed the Rubicon the Rubicon crossed me as I peed all up and down my whole friggin leg. Just as I turned arround to fix myself up. Just as anothor woman walked into the bathroom. (Quikly folowed by a second womon because as you know women never go to the bathrom alone.) These two saw evereything.

I play hooky

There was no way i coud stay at work like this and so I snuck out and went home. Sittin in the car for over two hours wasnt helpin my circullation down below my waist, and every time I got to a red light or behind a truck so I coud coast on the freeway, I tryed to, uh, (this is enbarasing) pluck it out, but it wasnt goin nowhere. It was IN there. All these awfull thoghts went thru my head. I geuss it woudnt be so bad if I lost it. Its not like I realy used it. (Not for anythin realy inportant anyway).

It is a very long drive home and when I got there my trousors were almost dry but I was still in a retracted state. My knees wobboled as I mounted the rickety porch steps and I was dyin to get inside an take a hot showor. Mabye that woud help things.

The cripto-zoollogists van was gone, but Granfather's girlfreinds's Caddy was parked outside the trailor. I was in a state of shock.

I stumboled into the house

The bathroom door was locked. I dont know why but I headded right into Granfather's room. The TV was blairing and the old basterd was sittin there with a giant black eye. I was still trenmbling all over half from shock and half from fear. I said to Granfather, "What hapenned to you?"

The old basterd looked back at me, and grunted, "WHUT HAPENNED TO YOU BWAH? YOU LOOK LIKE YUH LOST YER BEST FREIND."

Very deffensively I repplied, "NOTHIN."

Granfather told me what was up.

He had chased the sceintists out hoping to spend some time alone with his girlfreind, the tiny-headed-large-eared-virtuel-female-version of H. Ross Perot. Aftor all, Granps had been in a coma for 7 weeks and was lookin for some conpanionship. But things went wrong: They had an argumment, and now she locked herselff in the bathroom.

"Thet's right! Thet's RAGHT!", I heard her loudley caterwaul from behind the bathroom door in her trademark, rapid-fire-fast, clipped twangey yap.

"And ah'm STAYIN locked in heah cause I AIN'T thet kind of lady!
Know-whut-I-mean? Y'unna'stand?
Y'unna'stand? Know-whut-I-mean?"

Granfather imediatly screamed back at the top of his lungs, craining his neck toword the door with every vein popping, "I DONE TOLE YOU BEFORE, MISSY: DON'T RUB THE LAMP IF YOU DON'T WANT THE GENIE TO COME OUT!"

I thoght to myself, Danm.

With this sort of thing placing ideas in my head, I woud never, ever see Mr. Winky again.

Usualy if my updattes end in a cliffhangor, it involves some sort of awful Granfather-rellated medicol emergency. Insted I end with one of my own. Please stay tuned. As I write these words, I remain freindless. And by that i am not just talkin abuot in my family and at work.

WILL I EVER SEE IT AGIAN??

Please tune in--beffore the end of the month for the next update... And PLEASE excuse my shameless yet intentionol use of blatent cliffhangerism in such a tittillatting yet obvious mannor.
Yes I am a prodduct of my times and my medium.

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