Most customers are not unpleasant. They tell us what problem they’re having, we solve it, and they thank us.
Then there’s the ones who scream over and over, but don’t tell us anything helpful to investigate the issue.
They shout insults. They threaten legal action.
They scream every obscenity they know.
So, while on the phone, I looked at a screamer’s account and grabbed their address and credit card.
And emailed them to a Russian whose pornography and gambling site we’d recently suspended.
Mafia.
“Burn their house down,” I said. “And charge it to their card.”
They don’t scream anymore.
Tag: horror
Swoosh
Long ago, an executive at the Coca-Cola Company came up with an plan to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.
All around the world, Coke bottles were distributed with fill lines on them, and when people drank the Coke to that level, they blew across the top of the bottle and get it to resonate with a soothing pitch.
People were supposed to sing at that pitch, but long before anyone got in tune, the resonance from the bottles caused the earth’s core to wobble and explode.
The remaining debris field left a trail like the trademark swoosh.
Washed Up
There’s an old joke that nobody wants to see a tsunami hit Los Angeles because there’s enough washed-up actors there already.
Too late.
I come across another body on the beach, tangled in seaweed.
She looks familiar. Maybe an actress, starred in a commercial or two.
Toothpaste?
Shoes?
Orange juice?
Something like that.
I snap a few photos, record the location, and call for a pickup as I stick a beacon flag in the sand.
Damn. My last one.
I hate it when they’re kids. That’s just sad, sadder than adults.
Another siren. Wave coming.
I run for higher ground.
Liquidation
The most important thing to remember when working at The Department of Population Stability is that we do not name the individual cases for liquidation.
When a case number is not practical or available, we will refer to the subject by their location, gender, relative age, position within the social hierarchy, and any distinguishing marks.
Even if various advocates or activists give the individual subject a name, we will not use it ourselves.
So, once again, the subject is Seattle region, white male, elderly, short grey hair, uses cane.
And not “My Uncle Stan.”
We expect a report by Tuesday.
Myoelectric
Myoelectric: Sensors pick up signals and translate them into motor control.
Signals from the periphery go to the brain as sensory information.
We can replace missing limbs this way.
Let’s take Bob here as an example.
Hello, Bob. Open your hand.
Now close it.
No, don’t fire the rocket launcher.
Oops. That’s okay, Bob.
Put your hand over your mouth and you’re sorry.
No, not the chainsaw. Hand. Over mouth.
Okay, Bob, just sit still.
It looks like we got things wired up wrong.
Everybody, please leave the room quickly.
No, not you, Bob. Stay there.
And sit very still.
The Bloody Cupcake
Joe tried to scream again, but his mouth was gagged, and he’d lost a lot of blood.
Luke.
That bastard.
He knew!
How? Who told him?
Luke wiped the blood from his knife. “Hey, I can check one thing off my resolution list.”
Eyes stinging from gasoline dripping from his hair, Joe stared at the cupcake, topped with a sickly sheen of blood.
His blood.
“Oh, right,” said Luke. “The candle. Silly me.”
Luke took out a candle and stuck it in the cupcake.
And lit it.
“Make a wish,” said Luke, and he flicked the lit candle at Joe.
Soul Licenses
Deep in the User Agreement for the new software release, Ted slipped the sentence “User agrees to give their soul to Company” into the text.
“This will get people to read it!” he chuckled.
Nobody did, and pretty soon, Ted’s inbox filled up with souls.
The IT Department got pissed at him. “You filled the mail server, Ted! You need to send these back or delete them!”
“I can’t!” moaned Ted. “That would be murder. Or soulacide. Or…”
He resold them to The Devil for pennies on the dollar.
“I was going to get these anyway, just saving me time.”
Angry At Birds
I started with a tree with a bird in it, chopping it down.
Shot two doves the next day.
Killed three hens in a local hatchery.
And then pegged four ravens off of a telephone wire.
Killing birds is easy, but collecting the five golden rings would be a challenge.
Rob a jewelry stand at the mall
Mug some housewives for their wedding bands?
I settled for ripping the ear off of a punk outside of a nightclub.
I’m going to the park to bag some geese today.
Hopefully they won’t notice before I go back tomorrow for the swans.
Vampire Claus
People assume vampires are skinny and wear black, but I know a fat one who wears red and white.
Yes, Santa Claus is a vampire.
The bell-ringers? The mall Santas?
Indentured human servants to scout for healthy and wealthy victims.
You can tell a lot about a person when they sit in your lap.
Their breath. Their fitness. Are their eyes clear or yellow from jaundice?
As the bag full of presents gets lighter, the sleigh and reindeer need ballast.
Those really bad children won’t be missed.
The smart ones make toys, and he calls elves.
The rest, he drinks.
Fruitcake
Tina is in the Christmas Pageant in her school.
She’s been chosen to be the Fruitcake.
That’s right. A fruitcake.
She’s going to get rolled on stage while the kids sing about how horrible fruitcake is.
I know that kids pick on other kids, especially ones in wheelchairs, but the school was supposed to stop this bullying crap.
So, we made the fruitcake costume, stuffed with fireworks.
When it was Tina’s cue, they rolled the Trojan Fruitcake out.
I pushed the remote and… it exploded.
Hurt a bunch of kids. Some permanently.
Oh well. More fruitcakes for next year’s pageant.