Riced Out Yugo
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Another day on the slob
The repair technician the company had sent out was obviously quite new to the job. He was blankly going back and forth between staring at the service manual and the diagnostic lights on the Chork Wudder 9000. Poor chap. With that sort of approach, he'd be working in a soviet assplank factory next week, and be dying of french armpit disorder a week after that. I knew I could help him out, but I wanted to make sure he was worth it, first.

"Hey man, you know where the bathroom is?" I asked him.

"Uhhh...." he began, "Aren't you the one that worked here? I had to ask you where the bathroom was ten minutes ago!"

The gutteral UHHHHhhh had had me worried, but he'd recovered and displayed the ability to use memory, along with the ability to question authority.

"Look, you're new to this, aren't you?" I asked him.

"...Yeah." He admitted.

"Look, man, you won't last a week with that approach... want a few pointers?" He nodded vigorously.

"Good. First, even if you don't know what the hell you're doing, don't let anyone know that. If you have no ideas at all, just cut a wire and hope for the best. If it breaks, say you need to order a part and scram. Just like locksmiths and plumbers."

He nodded slowly.

"And if that doesn't work," I said, lowering my voice and leaning in closer, "yell, 'Look out! It's Hurricane Kelis!!!!' and pull the fire alarm while everyone's distracted. Then no one will be worrying about broken equipment."

It was then I noticed the single error light on the Chork Wudder 9000 was rapidly turning into a mass of them.

"I thi-" I began.

"Look out, it's Hurricane Kayane!!!!" he yelled.

Shortly after I reflexively ducked, I heard the fire alarm go off...

Damn. Ralph must have given him the same lecture last week.
Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker @ 2006-05-15 23:47:00
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