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BACKSTORY HERE: http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=260220 "They’re ON TO US” Those four words, ambiguous in meaning, was what greeted me as I opened up Microsoft Outlook one fateful Friday morning. My heart began racing, as I realized that the message had come from none other than James Alexander, my counterpart in Texas. Anybody being "on" to our scheme of hiding under the radar scopes was undoubtedly trouble, trouble that would manifest itself in the very next Email that I opened. It’s never a good sign when the name in the "From" field is followed by an identifier in brackets... and, as I would learn, it was even worse when that identifier was "RECRUITER". I double clicked on the message, plainly entitled "Question" FROM: Nosy McInmybidness [Recruiter] TO: Moonshine Subj: Question Hi, Moonshine. My name is Nosy and I’m currently doing a budgetary survey of the Detroit operation. Unfortunately, some of the paperwork for you seems to have been misplaced. I can’t seem to place you anywhere on the company organizational chart. Might you stop by when you have a minute so that we can sort everything out? A flush of heat swept over me, as well as a slight nervous jitter that would only be calmed by the massive ingestion of nicotine into my nervous body. With trembling hands, I lit up a cigarette right at my desk, and sat back to ponder what my move was. A multitude of discovery scenarios had played out in my head in the months leading to this unexpected twist, but they all involved the temporary stream of bullshit that would spray from my mouth should somebody ever, in passing, ask what it was exactly that I did. Nothing had prepared me for a meeting. Therefore I decided on the smartest possible thing to do - ignore it like that lump on my balls. I quickly deleted the Email, logged onto the SA Forums, and tried to clear my mind. It seemed to work for a few hours, as I was lost in complete bliss... then that goddamn box popped up. The temptation to click "No, I do not want to read this new mail that has been sent to me by somebody that is most likely hell bent on my demise" was overcome by curiosity, and my thumb subconsciously flecked the enter button to display what was surely another Email from Ms. Nosy. My worst nightmares were confirmed by the subject line: "RE: Not Read: Question". The bitch had read receipts enabled. Those all so sneaky checkmarks that for years have exposed management to the sheer number of "Must Read Notices" that go promptly into employee’s deleted items folder had once again surfaced to bite me in the pale white rear end. The body of the message was even more ominous. "I see that you are in. I will come down to your office to discuss. West side, first floor, correct?" The irrational side of my brain begged me to supply her with fake directions. I rationalized the thought, believing that it would indeed buy me time - but realizing that it would only dig the hole deeper. I assessed my options for escape. And yes, tactically my mind works as a cross between BF1942 and MSPaint...  I was without sufficient weaponry to meet her head on, and she was coming towards me from one of my only two possible exit routes. The only other escape route was down the hallway, and out to my car. Unfortunately, I was unaware of how much time I had left, or if she was hanging outside my closed door right now. It seemed an awfully big risk, to hightail it down that dark corridor, past the rows of unoccupied, locked offices, and off to freedom. It was going to be close. I needed to get to my door, down 60 feet of hallway, and out the side entrance before she rounded the corner. I knew that, as a man, I needed to face adversity in my life - it was either do or die. This was a test of courage and manhood, and there was no backing out. I just had to shuffle quietly thirty feet down the hallway, and off to freedom - with the strong possibility of being caught in the act. It was truly a character defining moment as I stood with my hand trembling on the doorknob, not sure if the Recruiter was standing on the other side. This was a defining moment... So, like a jittery little adolescent squirrel, I scrambled to the other side of my office, and went right out the loving window. No qualms about it, without even thinking twice, I slid the frosted pane up, and climbed on through. Unfortunately, I neglected my considerable body mass, and fell directly on my rear end as I slithered through the cold metal frame. Shaken, but safe, I crouched low to move away from my window, then glanced around to make sure that I hadn’t been seen. Safe in my secrecy, I walked around to the other end of the building, and got in my truck. Tearing out of that parking lot at the speed of light, my only thought was to get as far away from that place as possible - and deal with what may come on Monday morning. So, six hours later, I’m at the bar, stirring over a rapidly warming beer (I didn‘t have much taste for alcohol that afternoon), and pondering my problems. I had used the pay phone to call my wife to let her know I would be home late (as I had forgotten my cell phone back in the office, and needed to return for it). I had absolutely nothing in mind of how to counteract this situation - I had figured that perhaps I needed to start making phone calls to Vice Presidents down at the corporate offices, doing damage control, and trying to rebuild what was left of my sidetracked career. I had resolved to do that on Saturday, but first I needed to get back to the office and get my cell phone. The parking lot was lit dimly by the orange glow of the low powered streetlights as I pulled back into the office building. I casually walked up to the front door, sliding my keycard through, and strolled into the office. I expected that nobody was there, and walked with the calm determination that expectation brought. "Oh, poo poo... ummm..." came a voice from my left. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to look. Sitting there, in the corner office, was "Paul" our Vice President of Marketing Strategy. Burning the midnight oil, it seemed... with a bottle of Boone’s farm wine, an opened jar of Vaseline, and a box of tissues sitting in plain view on his desk. His left hand worked fervently at the mouse button, in a desperate attempt to close down whatever had previously graced his screen. His bald head grew red as he struggled to keep up with the pop ups - a cascade of hot pink letters proclaiming "HOT TEEN BI-SLUTS" and "ANAL ORIENTAL CUM BITCHES" leaving a virtual blood trail that betrayed his rapid attempts to conceal what he had been looking at. "Mr Moonshine," he started, his voice cracking. "I didn’t think that anybody was still here..." "No problem, sir… I was just coming back in to..." "No, I really didn’t know. Honest. I, um… I don’t get the AOL at home." I was getting set to walk away, but I stopped, looking over at the slightly overweight man, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "I’m sorry?" I asked. "I don’t get the web thing at my house. I was just looking at pictures. You know, adult pictures." I nodded and averted my eyes, but he continued. " It just sucks since my wife left me..." I looked back up, incredulous that this man, who up until today I had only met in passing, was doing anything but closing his door and trying to forget the incident. "I’m sorry," I repeated again. And that’s when the blubbering began. "I don’t know what to do, its been six months. I’ve never even dated before… for God’s sake look at me." "Uh…" "See, you can tell. I was married for eighteen years, I have no idea what to do. I can’t even cook noodles. Aw, hell, I have no idea what to do. I tried to do the whole single scene thing, but I’m a fish out of water if there ever was one..." "It takes some time..." I tried to console him cautiously. He motioned me into his office, trying to force a smile. Against my better judgement, I walked in and sat down. "You, you’re a popular guy, right? With the ladies?" he asked. I raised my left hand in response, showing him the wedding ring. He nodded, then looked up to the ceiling, as if searching for what to say. "But you’re used to the partying scene? You can do the whole hippy-hop music stuff, right?" I nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going. "Hip hop..." I corrected. He smiled as if I had just unlocked a great secret for him... "I tried all that stuff, I’ve been to the nightclubs. I’m just doing something wrong." Said the overweight, balding Vice President who I had caught masturbating and drinking what most 14 year-old girls have grown out of, right in his office. " I want to be able to go out and talk to women. I want to go out and drink beers and dance and have casual relationships, is that an unreasonable request?" "I guess not..." I squirmed. "Can you help me?" My mind raced. I had no idea what he was asking me to do, but then suddenly something clicked in my head. I could turn this thing to my advantage. (Continued)
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Nov 13, 2002 06:32
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"This... stuff tonight," I started, pointing at the computer, "this is all our secret, right?" He looked shocked, "Of course... why?" "I’ll help you out. But you have to help me out. Have you ever heard of Nosy McInmybidness?" "Yes, she’s up from corporate auditing the facilites." "Well, she’s all over me. You know I’ve been here for a while, you know I’m a good employee. How about you just tell her that I’m on your budget, in your department. That way she’ll get off of my case..." He raised an eyebrow, smiling with the corner of his mouth, "That may be possible. And if I do?" "If you do, I’ll help you get ‘back on your feet’, as far as the social life." He reached his hand across the table, and said "Deal." I looked down at his hand, then back up at him, grimacing mildly... he quickly withdrew it, replying "Oh, yeah. Right." I got up to walk out of the room, then looked back at him. I smiled for a second. "MILFhunter dot com, sir. Username is xxx, password is xxx. Knock yourself out." With that, I walked out of his office, and back into the world of feeling secure with my job. Come Monday morning, and on all the glorious mornings thereafter, I never again heard another word from the "Recruiter". EPILOGUE It was inevitable. I had been saved by a Vice President who played with himself in his rich Corinthian leather chair at work, I had to hold up my end of the bargain. And I did. About two weeks after the episode that still haunts my dreams, I convinced the wife and a few of her work friends to join me and Vice President "Midlife crisis" at the bar. The night began poorly, and went downhill from there. When we first walked in, I spotted him, sitting at a corner booth, tearing the label off a bottle of beer. We went over and sat down, and he perked right up - he was a talkative little bastard, I ended up learning his entire life story - except when a female walked by - at which point he would clam up like a four year old boy. I knew that it would be a difficult situation - especially after two hours and about 5 more beers when he handed me a napkin and asked me to "give it to that sugar bunny of a waitress." I nodded and stood up, looking down at the wadded up paper. "You are a very beautiful woman. What time do you get off of work? Wave at me if interested." I resolved about two words into the note that I couldn’t give it to anybody... so I walked to the waitress, and pretended like I was talking to her at the crowded bar, which seemed to satisfy Paul. As I was doing this, my wife came up to me and gave me the equivalent of "We’ve got to go...", so I had to think quickly. "Hey, how does Sandy like Paul?" I asked her. Sandy was a co-worker of my wife, moderately attractive, if you like the ’bleached blonde 80’s pop star who got run over by a tractor’ look. She eyed me curiously... "Why?" "Have her come over here..." I said. My wife waved her over to the bar, and she stumbled half drunkenly towards us. I explained to her that Paul was really lonely, and was only looking for a friend to pay some attention to him for the night. I also mentioned that he was horribly rich (an assumption), and that he was really a fun guy to be around (a lie). She seemed disinterested at the beginning, but then she took a different approach. "What’s in it for me?" she asked. "What, like money?" I replied. Nothing in my life had ever prepared me for pimping, so I was kind of rusty when thrown directly into the situation. "I want one of your puppies..." she stated matter-of-factly. I glanced at my wife, who shrugged. A week prior, our hounddog had had a massive litter of pups, and we were having some trouble finding buyers for all of them. Now, Sandy was a nice woman, with kids, but very poor... I didn’t see the harm. "Um, okay." She smiled, then pointed at me, her finger waving drunkenly in my face. "No sex.." she stated, then proceeded to turn around and walk towards our booth, sliding into the seat next to Paul. My wife and I ended up paying our tab, then sliding out of there for the evening, all the while wondering what the heck was going to happen. The suspense was with us all weekend, until I returned to work the following Monday morning. The first message on my Inbox was from Paul. It stated simply "Your wife’s friend has GREAT hands." I sat back, smiling. A puppy for a hand job, and the preservation of the American Dream. All in all, a wonderful trade.
Graveyard Grandma fucked around with this message at 06:36 on Nov 13, 2002 |
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Nov 13, 2002 06:33
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Incredible. Once again your brave tales thrill my soul.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:38
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If this is fake, I'm going to make sure they never find your body ([img-Ralphie]), because it really doesn't deserve to be and it's also the most beautiful thing ever in the history of time. Any pics of the VP and/or Sandy? Edit: and what happened to the Texas guy? ----------------
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Nov 13, 2002 06:38
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You really need your own sitcom.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:40
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quote:Adar came out of the closet to say: That's possible. Although, for the sake of anonymity, I'd almost rather not. I can maybe MSPaint them. The Texas guy, Mr "Alexander", left the company. He was under the same scrutiny that I was, and decided it was best to leave.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:40
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Bravo
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Nov 13, 2002 06:45
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Post a pic of Sandy and MSPaint the VP? Heh.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:47
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I love your saga. I hope someday, when I graduate from high school and college, that I can live your life.
Paxomotic on Mike Tyson: Maybe it's the tattoo on his face. Maybe it's the lisp. Maybe it's the rape. I don't know, I don't care. Something about that big black man just captures our hearts.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:48
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Again, Sir, you are an inspiration to us all.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:48
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You are the awesomest guy ever.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:49
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You continue to be an inspiration to all of us. 5.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:53
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I like your style.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:54
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I.. I think I love you.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:54
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Good show, good show! This was an unexpected but welcome installation to your series. (Does anyone have the first two archived somewhere? I had them bookmarked, but the links aren't valid anymore.) I would like to be just like you when I graduate college, Mr. Moonshine.
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Nov 13, 2002 06:54
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Moonshine, I absolutely LOVE your tales..but after this one, I can only believe that's exactly what they are. Masterfully crafted, most likely carefully researched.. ..but this doesn't happen in real life. It just doesn't!!! (Of course, if I'm wrong, then I'm a stupid little idiot and don't deserve to be in your crappy club for jerks.)
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Nov 13, 2002 06:57
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quote:So, like a jittery little adolescent squirrel, I scrambled to the other side of my office, and went right out the loving window. I love your similies. And you do deserve a sitcom of sorts - or a comic book. WOWGOONS = Capybara
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Nov 13, 2002 06:57
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When I grow up I want to be just like you, Moonshine! 5!! ----------------
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Nov 13, 2002 06:59
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holy poo poo. this is the most exceptional thing i've read since the last installment! living the SA dream, you are.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:00
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quote:Adar came out of the closet to say: Here you go... strangely enough it is a very legitimate rendering of him.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:03
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I really wish I had the words to describe the rush of humor and tension felt while reading your posts, Moonshine. Again, Moonshine Wins!! Predictions: Moonshine: infinity Corporate office: zero.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:03
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quote:iscariot came out of the closet to say: ----------------
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Nov 13, 2002 07:04
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quote:Rebel Lion came out of the closet to say: I work on the 3rd floor. I really hope that I never have to jump out the loving window to hide from the HRBitch. Besides, I have several things in my favour. 1) VNC installed on really every macine on the network. 2) I know how to set up hidden, passworded shares. 3) Our CEO is a dirty dirty man. I think I am pretty safe in my job for now. I still wish I was moonshine. Except for the whole seeing the guy jerk off thing. That would suck.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:05
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first thing i thought of when i saw the MS paint rendering.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:05
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As always, unbelievably cool. Well played, you won that round.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:08
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quote:Rebel Lion came out of the closet to say: Its funny, I consider my life to be very ordinary. Even some of the things that I write, don't seem so strange when they're happening. This event was embarrassing for me - and the bar with him was like a root canal. I was struggling for a while to figure out the best way to put this into words (as those of you who talk to me on AIM know). I guess that by writing it down, it kinda livens it, I dunno.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:09
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Great stuff, like all the rest. Is there any way you could trade another puppy for another date to get your VP to call your buddy in Texas to extend the same...well, hand to him so he can continue to live the life as well? But that would probably destroy the delicate balance of your own little corporate heaven. Either way, great story.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:09
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I'm sorry, but the login xxx and password xxx aren't working. Could you double check them? Thanks. Also, 5!
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Nov 13, 2002 07:10
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Brilliance. Handjobs and puppies, 5.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:11
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My head wants to call shenanigans. My heart wants to believe. My anus wants to be left alone.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:11
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WOW man, just WOW. i SO envy you.
in carmine and crimson stood flaming the sky
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Nov 13, 2002 07:15
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Does anyone have the first two stories in the American Dream saga saved? I'd love to be able to share these with my non-SA friends.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:15
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quote:Rannic came out of the closet to say: Somebody just sent them to me in EMail, so I could probably forward them off.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:16
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If you could send 'em to rannic@iastate.edu, I'd love you forever. Aw hell, what am I saying. I love you anyway. Edit: Jesus I suck with tags. Edit2: CHRIST I really loving suck with tags.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:23
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It's like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting... Waiting... Then it drops just as a ninja clad CEO with his penis in his hand swoops down to catch it and put it back, receiving a quick hand job for the trouble. [nt]
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Nov 13, 2002 07:24
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It was soo beautiful!! I weep every night wishing I had your job. Mr. Moonshine? Will you be my forum dad? I may not be the youngest newbie ever, but I'm almost entirly self taught and I clean up after myself and everything! I'll be the best newbie ever, and all I want to do is bask in your greatness!
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Nov 13, 2002 07:24
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Ahahahahah. Priceless. Thanks a lot. Now just make sure to never, ever, ever have a midlife crisis or quit this job too early. Like before you're 78. ----------------
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Nov 13, 2002 07:25
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quote:Nystral came out of the closet to say: I'm sure it would violate all of space-time, considering that you're 4 months older than me, but sure. :)
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Nov 13, 2002 07:26
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I wondered what was going on with you after the last update, finding you fellow George Constanza down in Texas. How long til the hammer falls? That, my friends, is another story.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:27
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Absolutely incredible. I know the hip thing is to yell shenanigans at every amazing story, but this is amazing beyond belief, and so no one would make it up and try to pass it up as the truth. Unless you're onto me. No, those thoughts must be put away. I wish you the best of luck, and I also wish the vice president, your new supervisor, the best of luck. You magnificent bastard.
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Nov 13, 2002 07:30
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