So I’m sitting in the editorial meeting this afternoon and almost everyone showed up. Our publisher Mr. Jaunty himself, my editor, Doctor Octavius, Big Jim, Hairy Steve, Socks (a monkey), my P.R. gal Magdalena, and the Petrovitch twins. We were working on story ideas and went with this one (recommended by Socks):
I was pulling some new data lines this morning at Campland In The Dirt. Sure, I could’ve used some help, but I’m not allowed to solicit help from clients or take staff away from their duties (solitaire). One of the clients walked up and I strangely thought that he might help straighten the wires that I was pulling through the conduit. Wrong.
Instead, he regaled me with his resume. He had been employed by a contractor installing data services in all of the franchise stores for a certain married cookie entrepreneur. I must’ve fulfilled the requirements to be interested, since I was pulling wire. “But get this,” he added, “did you know they’re Mormons?” Um, no, but please, go on. “Yeah, her husband is involved in this secret Mormon paramilitary group. They’re global, and they work with the government.”
Oh, now it’s really getting good. More?
“They go around finding people, and some people, they disappear.” Really? That’s wild. “Yeah, man, it’s all true.”
He went on, but everybody on the editorial board thought this was the best part. Except for Chuck Petrovitch, who didn’t get it.
Your pal,
bob