Predator Press
[LOBO]
As I entered the spacious office, McKracken rose from his chair.
"It's a pleasure to see you again sir," he said shaking my hand over the desk.
Trying not to wince visibly under his vice-like grip I reply, "I wish I could say the same."
"The
Anti-Brent Diggs security grid we designed isn't working?"
"No it's fine," I says. "To my knowledge, Brent hasn't been within a hundred miles of my place."
"How about the bathtub shark cage?"
"That's fine too."
"I hope you've taken my advice and stopped reading Don Lewis'
fear-mongering."
"That guy is a menace and must be
stopped."
McKracken gestures to a seat in front of his desk, and eyes me carefully as he sits. "I take it you have further need for our security services."
"And how," I says. Pulling a folded piece of paper from my lapel, I toss it in front of him. "Everywhere I've surfed the Internet lately, I see things like
this."
"These sick bastards," I explain, "are tryin to squish the Earth into a weird heart shape!" I punch my finger into the image loudly. "This would almost
certainly screw up our orbit around the Sun."
"I think," says McKracken, "this is just an effort to organize awareness for human rights."
"The right to squish the Earth?" I guffaw. "I
need the Earth. All my stuff is there. And just look at Canada!"
"No," McKracken says patiently. "I mean the heart-shaped Earth is like a
metaphor. As if to say 'the world should be more sensitive'. They aren't really trying to squish it."
"I'm not buying that," I says. "And frankly the
last thing I need are bloggers 'uniting'. How long until one of them figures out that they can eliminate the best blog in the universe -
Predator Press- by the simple act of sticking a shiv in the back of my neck while I'm mowing the lawn?"
"I've seen your yard," says McKracken. "I wouldn't classify that as a serious threat."
"I think we need to start discussing my options."
"Like what?"
I stand and walk to the window, thinking. "How about a giant vacuum that will suck everyone off of the face of the Earth except me,
LadyTerri,
Phil and the kids?"
"It sounds expensive," replies McKracken. "Plus you still have to worry about other dangers. You know, earthquakes and so forth."
"Okay," I concede sullenly. "How about if we airlift our house out into the middle of the Pacific where no earthquake -or organized bloggers- could possibly reach us?"
"Well," sighs McKracken. "You would still have hurricanes, tidal waves-"
"An orbiting satellite?"
"Asteroids, meteors, gamma rays-"
"Polar research station?"
"Polar bears, hypothermia-"
"Undersea research vessel?"
"Crushing depth pressure, monkfish, killer whales-"
"Goddamn it McKracken!" I whirl. "I'm completely fed up with your lousy excuses!"
"Hell," says McKracken. "I haven't even
started with microorganisms, disease, deadly bacteria-"
"So what you're essentially telling me," I says. "Is that you are completely unable to provide me with any 'security'
whatsoever."
McKracken fidgets nervously.
"Well that settles it," I says. Nodding in comprehension, I head for the door. "McKracken, you're
fired!"
The door slams.
"Is he gone?" says a voice in the closet.
McKracken breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God yes sir. He's gone."
A shadowy figure emerges. "You have done well."
"It was my pleasure sir. If I got another blood-curdling scream on my home phone at 2:00am, my wife was going to leave me."
The figure throws a small package on the desk.
"A bonus," he says ominously.
"A copy of
Tinsel of Doom? Sir, you are too kind!"
"Just be sure that security system is offline today," says the figure. "I just can't take anymore Bee Gees music."
McKracken has deleted all of My Interesting Files.
Nestled just south of Angry Seafood and west of Musings of a Barefoot Foodie, Alltop just got it’s newest resident.
