Note: The standard address, date, and addressee e-mail taglines have been eliminated and converted to dialogue format to streamline and enhance your reading pleasure. All last names of participants have been omitted to protect the innocent...
I'm Only One Person
Sent: Wednesday, July 26, 2000 2:20 PM
To: Brian, Teresa, Tonya
Subject: Need some hair
I'm working on a little project over here and I discovered that the specifications require a lock of your hair to make it work. I am constructing a mockup of you and need a tissue sample such as hair to activate the process. The project's code name is Virtual Occupancy Obedience Directional Overdrive Operations.
P.S. Does Teresa still exist?
Brian: I'm keeping all my hair for now, will an old Doobie Brothers t-shirt I got at a concert do?
Teresa was kidnapped by mongols who plan to make her their Goddess of the Oxen. As is their ancient custom, she can read e-mails but she can't reply to them.
Mark: Yeah, the mongol explanation seems plausible enough, but I just have this suspicion that she thinks she's better than the rest of us. Either that, or she's back into that mystical stone cult.
Brian: She is better than the rest of us, haven't you noticed?
Mark: Well, something happened with her. She stopped responding to our emails abruptly. Maybe it was when you called her "Daughter of Darkness."
Brian: That's no worse than when I called her a line dancing sheep lover that time she stole my box of Oreos.
Mark: Maybe it was a combination of those two slurs plus the time you pushed her head into the lobster tank at lunch. Yeah, I admit it was funny up to the point where the paramedics arrived. You just need to learn that "no" means "no."
Brian: That was an accident. Check the police report. And in my own defense, I warned her to stop calling me 'Mary Mary, Quite Contrary'.
Due to the radiation exposure it seems I'll have a lock of hair for you after all. I stick it in a plant mail envelope.
Mark: Thank you. After I add the hair sample to my prototype, you may experience some involuntary body movements, some sharp pains, headaches, burning sensations, and a strange feeling as if you were being thrown against a wall. Try to relax and be comforted with the assurance that this is all being controlled by experts.
Brian: Is this really go to help my abs? I'm a little worried that that was just part of the ad campaign
Mark: Come to think of it, this won't do a bit of good to anybody, but it sure will be a lot of fun inflicting pain upon your wretched soul.
Teresa: I'VE HAD A LOT TO DO!! I'M ONLY ONE PERSON, YOU KNOW! SOME PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK FOR LIVING AND CAN'T JUST SIT AROUND ALL DAY ANSWERING E-MAILS! NOW WHERE'S MY LITTLE BOTTLE! SOMEBODY FIND MY LITTLE BOTTLE!
Breathe deep...breathe deep... go to the special place.
Brian: Little bottle?
Mark: Teresa, Some people can do both; answer email AND get all of their work done. Yes, we are that good. Obviously, you do not fall into this category.
I pity you.
Brian: I can clip my fingernails, answer e-mail and work at the same time. And I know where my little bottle is all the time.
Mark: Is that what you call yours? I call mine "The Coward of the County."
Brian: You name your little bottle?
Mark: Of course.
Brian: Pure genius.
Teresa: Well, the last time I checked I was only one person. Things may have changed since then and, if so, I will be able to be much more efficient. I'll just delegate my e'mail responsibilities to one of my Others.
Mark: Sounds like somebody needs a hug.
Brian, hug her.
Brian: She never said whether she found her little bott...I mean Coward of the County or not. I'm not hugging her until she finds it.
Mark: It may take a while... she's pretty busy, you know... working for a living and all.
Brian: Well, she is just one person.
Mark: But there are rumors of Others.
Teresa: I just got the plates for my new car, a Ford Taurus SE that comes standard with the Vulcan 3.0-liter overhead-valve V6 rated at 145 horsepower. It also has a double overhead-cam, 32-valve, 3.0-liter Duratec V6 that makes 185 hp and a front suspension with a MacPherson strut design with a lower control arm and stabilizer bar. Simple but effective. Anyway, my new randomly assigned tag number is FKT-571. The guy at the dealership apparently thought I would be offended by it and claimed that "the only thing he could say is that it's legal." Not too thrilling, but with a little imagination and creative wordplay it could become interesting.
Mark: FKT-571? Isn't that the name of that submarine movie?
Brian: CONGRATS! ah, that new car smell and a funkytiger-751 license plate. When you taking us to lunch?
Mark: Probably as soon as she finds her little bottle, whatever the hell that means.
Teresa: How about in 48 months?
Brian: Now we know why we hadn't heard from her, Mark. She's been outside rubbing the upholstery and purring and at the same time wondering how the hell she got herself into debt again.
Teresa: What do you mean "again"? Let's try "deeper". ...in debt, that is.
Mark: What does any of it matter? We're all going to die.
Mark: Sorry, I usually save that line for children's birthday parties, but I felt it was appropriate in this case, too.
Brian: So, when did you get the new ride Teresa? How much are your payments? How long did you finanace it? What color is it? Straight shift or auto? How many miles does it have on it? Did you trade your Nissan for it? What color suit was the salesman wearing? Am I asking enough questions?
Teresa: July 12
None (standard issue used car salesman polo and slacks)
Yes, but you didn't ask if there "was enough room in for the children?" to which the answer is "yes, the trunk is huge."
Mark: Speaking of trunks, did I mention that I call mine "The Coward of the County?"