Not a good idea. A moose in the international
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Not a good idea. A moose in the international space station. It stood, nay floated in unity node 1. its antlers were wedged in a ventilator panel and the only Canadian astronaut
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in the world had gotten waylaid at the tax office. "Well, so much for that idea," the Canadian astronaut grumped as the CPA triple-checked his figures. "You really had 7 moose?"
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"Those drinks can kill you, you know, if you don't drink them in a little sippy cup. So... are you interested in coming with me to the center of the earth? I've conquered space, so
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now all there is to do is put down that drink and follow me. The shuttle's parked outside." A pause. "There wasn't much room out there, so I, umm...
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parked on a double yellow line." Dread filled them as they ran outside but the shuttle had been clamped. "How the hell can we complete Mission Neptunus now?" they raged at various
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public transit workers. Of course mass transit would choke. "How the hell could they complete Mission Neptunus now?" A bewildered worker replied, "Sir, are you narrating the plot?
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The Manager whipped the bewildered worker in the shin with an extension cord and said, "Are you screwing my wife?" The worker hissed and grabbed his shin, sparks of pain
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And became a sea-dog with three heads. The Manager recoiled in horror and apologisef profusely. He wept all night upon losing his best bartender. Was the Manager drunk, again?
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Find out next time on the next episode of The Manager!" I stared at my radio. "This show makes no sense." I muttered. "Who writes these shows, anyway?"
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"You do. You write these shows, Bombo," Barnabus said to me. As the reality hit me, the world seemed to tilt and just before I fainted I saw the word "Manager" upon my door. Me?!
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- Started
- 2014-07-22 18:00:00
- Finished
- 2016-08-29 13:34:29
1 Comments
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SlimWhitman Aug 31 2016 @ 18:29
Bombo, the world's Manager. Things are starting to make sense.