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Real Time Weapon Change
Oh my lawd. They achieved levels this week. Levels I tell you. The sort of levels that can get you arrested, and DID for one guy.
Simple Questions
Me: “Alright, and your name please?”
SC: “….ummmmmm….”
Me: “……..?”
SC: “………”
This is not a question that should trigger a 30 second pause, unless you are suffering from a severe head injury. In which case I don’t believe I can render any assistance. I am a simple paging service and wholly unqualified to be trying to shove someone’s brain Jello back into the bowl so to speak. I could give it a shot if you want, but I must confess that I, like many people, have a natural compulsion to shake the bowl just to see it wiggle.
....oh God.
C: “We have a bit of a strange problem....ummm....our morgue isn’t working.”
Isn’t….working? How so? I mean....I have nothing to do with morgues so I'm not sure why you're calling me. What sort of not working are we talking about here? Is it like....a containment issue? Do you need stakes?
Seriously though, why are you calling me, this company only does air conditioning and refrigera-.......ooooooooh. Gotcha.
GMLTS
( This is completely true, try it sometime. )
We must speak of a strange individual I encountered on my Sky chariot this evening. By strange I mean he was most definitely a Type 3. For those of you unaware of the Greater Metro Lunacy Type Scale, I will explain: All random lunatics and malcontents one may encounter in the city fall into one of 4 specific types. They are organized by threat level.
Type 1: The Rambler
The most common and most harmless of all 4 Types. The rambler may be static, or he may wander within a certain radius using a bus stop, Skytrain station or 7/11 as a focal point. He will mainly be talking to himself, typically discussing the finer points of one or more conspiracy theories or apocalypse scenarios. If approached, he may attempt to include you in this discussion but any attempt to communicate a complex thesis on Russia’s growing military power will inevitably be verbally expelled as something akin to “JESUS BE TAKIN’ MA BEER MONEY”.
Type 2: The Performance Artist
Type 2 may show some similarities to Type 1, however Type 2 will inevitably be discussing his theories with one or more invisible companions who may be animal, vegetable, mineral or merely gremlin. This discussion will be punctuated with many wild gestures, raised voices and profanity if the gremlin is being particularly disagreeable. Type 2 doesn’t pose much of a threat unless you come within arm’s reach as you may be inadvertently struck during a particularly heated discussion over the gremlin’s drinking habits.
There is a very very slim possibility he may attempt to have sex with the gremlin. I have seen this once. I never want to see it again.
Type 3: The Undefined Threat
Type 3 may have signs of Type 1 and 2, but randomly mixes in unspecific threats or undertones of horrible violence. For example ( a recent example ), mid way through rambling about a Skytrain station they’ll start going “Where’s a knife…where’s a knife…I NEED A KNIFE” than return to normal incoherent rambling. Bonus points if they make stabbing or throttling motions.
Type 3 will never make a specific direct threat but will always behave in a manner that makes you feel distinctly unsafe.
Type 4: The Lunatic
You’ve probably never seen Type 4, and probably never will. This is because Type 4 has already punched a Subway clerk in the face for being a treacherous agent of the Kumquat King and is now being incarcerated at the appropriate institution. Should you ever actually get to witness this rare beast in its full majestic glory, considering yourself lucky. Unless you’re a Subway employee.
But anyhow, now that you know how the system works, allow me to get back to my tale. As I said, I encountered a Type 3 in the wild, and did not have any pokeballs left.
When I first stepped on the Skytrain he looked perfectly normal. Well, fairly normal. He was rambling to himself but I mistakenly believed he possessed a cell phone rather than a direct RSS feed from Jesus. Turns out he wasn’t talking to a phone at all. He was conducting a conversation with a Christmas ornament. Not just any one either. A battery operated one. It was a sort of torch/candle thing that lit up and he was hunched over, staring into this divine light and muttering soft words to it as if it were the One Ring.
Most of his rambling was incoherent at first, but it rose in tenor with each passing station. Till he was mimicking the automated voice whenever it announced the next station. Than he latch onto the station name as his next lunacy anchor and work his way out from it, unraveling it was he went. He would either attempt to rambling off a list of things that rhymed with the station, or he would give the station a series of first names like Freud Patterson or Nancy Metrotown.
But inevitably these little meanders would always return to his desire for a knife. Where’s the knife? I need a knife. A knife! Than the next station would bing, and the station announcement would distract him momentarily from his homicidal impulses. But they would always re-emerge within 3 sentences. Leading me to believe he was staying on the Skytrain simply because it stopped him from killing anyone.
Luckily he got off before downtown…..clutching his little light up candle and holding it in front of him as he walked like it was keeping the grue away. Which….well ok maybe it was but still.
...how?
The tenants of suite 402, both of them, somehow managed to lock themselves out……on their balcony 10 stories up. I do not know precisely how you would accomplish this. I did give them the benefit of the doubt. I sat, and I pondered, and I thought, and I thunked, but I could not, even in my vast brilliance, devise a scenario for this event for which stupidity or alcohol was not a factor.
I'm About to Offend Texas
Ho boy, where to start with this one. Alright, so this guy calls for legal aid….from the back of a squad car. Because he’s been arrested for DUI. Brilliant move to begin with, really. But our good ol’ boy is from Texas, so he jus doesn’t understand our weird Canadian laws and customs. So he’s just so confused and lost in this horrifically foreign country where no one even speaks American.
The best part though was his defense. Which was basically as follows:
Number 1: Canada is hard.
What with our weird rainbow money, extra U’s and complex social and legal system he just doesn’t understand. Er, sorry, he jus dun understand. No seriously this was what he said. He just doesn’t know our laws cus he’s Amerkan where apparently drunk driving is perfectly legal and vehicular manslaughter is a $50 fine. So he just doesn’t understand why he’s being arrested despite the fact the cop clearly explains exactly why you’re being arrested as he’s arresting you.
Number 2: Canada is still hard.
Again, our complex legal system eludes him. He just doesn’t know what his rights are in Canada or what he’s suppose to do. Despite the fact the cop would have told him exactly what his rights were as he was being arrested.
Number 3: He’s American.
He seems to be labouring under the mistaken belief that being American somehow overrules the local laws and social customs of any country he visits.
Now, that all sounds pretty stupid to begin with. But we’ve only just scratch the surface of this sad little fairy tale. There are two other key plot points in this poor boy’s little adventure. Namely, he has wisely chosen to refuse the breathalyzer. Because it is some sort of weird alien device that he just doesn’t understand and may or may not contain Canuck voodoo that could be used to bewitch him and trick him in a court of law.
Unfortunately, refusal to blow ( I’m not sure about suck ) here is, in legal terms, saying I R GUILTY. Thus he is in the back of a squad car, confused why red, white & blue does not offer him diplomatic immunity.
But the best part was, while on the phone to me with the cop right there next to him, he freely admitted he’d had a few shots of vodka before getting into his car. He was completely baffled as to why having a couple shots before driving was illegal and in any way qualified for a DUI. If anything he sounded downright shocked that drinking and driving was against the law. You know, exactly like it is in Texas.
Technology
Me “Good evening, <company>.”
C: “Hello, this is Telus Text to Landline Services. Telus client xxx-xxx-xxxx has sent you a text to landline message. Press 1 if you would like to hear it.”
Sure, what the hell.
C: "WANT TO FUCK? SO HORNY."
…..oh wow. Text to Landline uses a completely synthesized voice. So that was basically like being propositioned Stephen Hawking.
C: “Press 1 if you would like to send a reply”
Oh ho. Can I?
C: “Please state your message after the tone. <beep>”
Me: “How about no.”
C: “Thank you, your message has been sent.”
Technology is fun.
<mutter>
Me: “Alright, and what would you like to order?"
SC: “…I don’t know.”
How….why would you….just…..argh. I don’t know? I don’t’ know? What does that even mean? How can you not know? Wasn’t the fact you wanted something the entire reason you called to begin with? If you want something else, say yes. If you do not want something else, say no. It’s not that complicated, dude. This is not a question that should illicit any sort of confused response on your part. The whole act of phoning to place an order indicates you must have at least had some sort of idea of what you wanted. Some measure of foresight, even if it was rather dim. Else you would not have called.
I will admit that I do not expect very much of you after years of disappointment. But I at least expect you to be able to convey your desire for specific items. As that is the whole basis of my interactions with your lands and likely the focal point of your existence.
Ah yes
SC: “Whenever I try to load your website it won’t load the last page of the form.”
Me: “Hmm, alright-“
SC: “Is it because I’m on a Mock?”
Ah yes…..Mockintosh computers. I’ve heard of those. I use a PC myself but I have a few friends that swear by their Mockbooks.
My Powers Have Awakened
So, this evening I escaped to the break room momentarily ( I do require at least some sustenance ) when I heard the call bing….in my head. Clear as day. At first I took this as a clear indication of permanent psychological damage but as I curiously returned to the office and my desk, as if the mental bing had summoned me, I discovered a call on my screen. A call which, according to the call count, had appeared exactly when I heard the bell toll in my head.
So…..the good news is I’m officially clairvoyant. The bad news is my power only extends to our call software.
Hunter Gear
Me: “Alright, can I have the item ID number please?”
SC: “The item number?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “For the…..item?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “ummm….Jammin’….hoodie.”
Me: “What’s the ID number please?”
I like this one. She repeated the question back to me as if she actually understood what I asked. Than plowed ahead blindly anyhow demonstrating she didn’t grasp a single word I said. I also like the Jammin’ hoodie. A hoodie so cool it’s a verb.
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “Uh….Jammin’…pant”
A hoodie so cool it apparently has matching pants. Jammin’ pants. Oh, sorry, pant. God forbid we should embark into the dangerous and uncharted world of plurals. Still, these pants be jammin’. Why, you ask? I haven’t the foggiest. I suppose I could check the catalog and see if I c-…..oh my god those are hideous. Wow. Skin tight black pants with giant neon pink writing up the legs. Legs which are, according to the description, studded. Oh, with what appears to be a reflective waistband. I assume so that any driver that spots those pants at night and swerves to try and cleanse them from the face of the earth won’t have an excuse in court for why you ended up kissing his radiator.
Oh it’s an entire set too. You fool, you only ordered the Jammin’ Hoodie and Jammin’ Pant. There’s a Jammin’ Tank too and its bright neon pink. Why didn’t you get all three? If you only have two you’re not getting all the set bonuses.
Are You Serious?
Oi. Ok. So this guy is on a cruise that left from Mexico and hit Vancouver before moving on too Alaska. But the cruise ship kicked him off in Vancouver. Why, you ask? Because he didn’t have an American Visa. But GK! Surely we can help him with that? I mean if it was lost or stolen than he's in a bind and we can get him to the proper authorities!
No, no, you’re giving him far too much credit. Your expectations for humanity are still too high. But don’t worry, one day they’ll be eroded away to the same level as mine. Nope, it’s not that he doesn’t have an American Visa. It’s that he left it in Mexco because, and I quote: He didn’t think he’d need it. He’s travelling to the US, and doesn’t think he needs a visa or anything to get in. Apparently he hasn’t been paying attention for the last 6 years. It’s pretty much standard protocol for US customs agents and border guards to shoot you outright if you can’t provide a DNA sample, retina scan and a full background check on your entire family going back 3 generations inside of 30 seconds.
They Don't Work That Way
SC: “is this a cab?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Oh….do you know of any cabs in the vicinity?”
No, I thought I told you. My vast powers of clairvoyance only extend to <company>'s fine line of telecom products.
I HAVE SOLVED THE MYSTERY
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “…uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..”
Oh that’s not a good sign. That was just the first question and he’s already stalling out. I should brace myself….this is probably going to get pretty grim.
SC: “uh…can I place in an order please?!”
Me: “Alright, what catalog will you be ordering from?"
SC: “Uhhhhhhhhh dats KINGSTRICH CRAB”
Me: “..wh-what sorry?”
God dammit! I failed my Save vs Stun. This is bad, very bad. The sheer force of his idiocy may be too powerful even for me.
SC: “KINGSTRICH CRAB”
Me: “….I don’t understand, sorry.”
Which is a vast understatement I might add.
SC: “THAS OAKALAY”
Me: “…ok, but which catalog are you ordering from?”
SC: “WHAT~!?”
Me: “Which catalog do you have?”
SC: “KINGSTRICH CAB!”
Me: “…..what?”
Oh shi-, wait a second. GIANT ENEMY CRAB.
This foe is beyond any of you. Run, you fools!
Me: “I d-“
SC: It a flat cap. OAKALAY”
Me: “I need to know which catalog you have?”
SC: “<COMPANY>”
Quick, real time weapon change!
Me: “Ok, but which one? Spring? Summer?”
SC: “SUMMAR”
Me: “Alright, what’s the item number?”
SC: “uuuuhhh……….xxxx”
Me: “I’m afraid that’s not in stock.”
SC: “WHAT?!”
Me: “That’s not in stock, we don’t have any left.”
SC: “GuuuuhddgghhhDARN.”
Uh oh……there’s no telling what he might do if he can’t get something to cover his sloping forehead with post haste.
SC: “Uhh….maybe….imma…ano…cab one….waya second………..daaarrruuuuya…….dyuuuaaaauuuhhh….uhhhhh ”
I.....I have no idea what’s going on now, but I am terrified.
SC: “How bout Trickle CD CAP?!”
…trickle….CD?
Me: “What’s the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have that one either.”
SC: “Out of one too?!”
Me: “Yes”
SC: "Bout…..ummmm……uuhhhhhhhh…………..how bout……….harley Huntington sleeve cap”
Me: “What’s the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “I don’t have that either unfortunately.”
SC: “Uuuuuuhhhhoohrrrrrrdarn!!!”
You realize my life is in serious peril here. If I can’t find him some sort of skull ornament soon there’s no telling what he’ll do to me.
SC: “How bout dat other one? Dat uh harlin Huntington log flex cap”
Me: “What’s the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Ok, I have that one. Would you like that one??”
SC: “I LIKE DAT ONE”
Now, to strike his weak point for massive damage.
Me: “Anything else?”
SC: “Uh, NOPE”
Me: “Just the hat?”
SC: “Uh, YEP”
End result? $20 hat. $45 in shipping and taxes. Oh, and yes, he was calling from great northern lands. One of the key sources of my nocturnal torment. But…..I think I’ve unraveled the mystery. Yes, that’s right. I have finally solved the riddle of the north lands that have tormented me for so long!
First, you must ask yourself: Why the hell do they even live that far north?! Well kids, most of these....towns.....were originally founded as part of the DEW Line. An early warning line of radar stations intended to give us warning of any Soviet bombers heading our way during the Cold War. Obviously, its purpose is no longer relevant, but I assume these folk haven’t yet realized they can leave now.
However, and here is the clue, the DEW Radar sites were notorious for the sheer amount of hazardous waste they produced and left in the arctic before they were decommissioned and cleaned up. Chief amongst which was a large quantity of abandoned PCBs. One of the primary health effects of PCBs on human beings is poor cognitive development.
See?! Suddenly, it all makes sense doesn't it!? There really is something in the water up there. The mystery is SOLVED. All is finally revealed!
….not that solving the mystery helped in any way. But still!
annnnd rest.
Simple Questions
Me: “Alright, and your name please?”
SC: “….ummmmmm….”
Me: “……..?”
SC: “………”
This is not a question that should trigger a 30 second pause, unless you are suffering from a severe head injury. In which case I don’t believe I can render any assistance. I am a simple paging service and wholly unqualified to be trying to shove someone’s brain Jello back into the bowl so to speak. I could give it a shot if you want, but I must confess that I, like many people, have a natural compulsion to shake the bowl just to see it wiggle.
....oh God.
C: “We have a bit of a strange problem....ummm....our morgue isn’t working.”
Isn’t….working? How so? I mean....I have nothing to do with morgues so I'm not sure why you're calling me. What sort of not working are we talking about here? Is it like....a containment issue? Do you need stakes?
Seriously though, why are you calling me, this company only does air conditioning and refrigera-.......ooooooooh. Gotcha.
GMLTS
( This is completely true, try it sometime. )
We must speak of a strange individual I encountered on my Sky chariot this evening. By strange I mean he was most definitely a Type 3. For those of you unaware of the Greater Metro Lunacy Type Scale, I will explain: All random lunatics and malcontents one may encounter in the city fall into one of 4 specific types. They are organized by threat level.
Type 1: The Rambler
The most common and most harmless of all 4 Types. The rambler may be static, or he may wander within a certain radius using a bus stop, Skytrain station or 7/11 as a focal point. He will mainly be talking to himself, typically discussing the finer points of one or more conspiracy theories or apocalypse scenarios. If approached, he may attempt to include you in this discussion but any attempt to communicate a complex thesis on Russia’s growing military power will inevitably be verbally expelled as something akin to “JESUS BE TAKIN’ MA BEER MONEY”.
Type 2: The Performance Artist
Type 2 may show some similarities to Type 1, however Type 2 will inevitably be discussing his theories with one or more invisible companions who may be animal, vegetable, mineral or merely gremlin. This discussion will be punctuated with many wild gestures, raised voices and profanity if the gremlin is being particularly disagreeable. Type 2 doesn’t pose much of a threat unless you come within arm’s reach as you may be inadvertently struck during a particularly heated discussion over the gremlin’s drinking habits.
There is a very very slim possibility he may attempt to have sex with the gremlin. I have seen this once. I never want to see it again.
Type 3: The Undefined Threat
Type 3 may have signs of Type 1 and 2, but randomly mixes in unspecific threats or undertones of horrible violence. For example ( a recent example ), mid way through rambling about a Skytrain station they’ll start going “Where’s a knife…where’s a knife…I NEED A KNIFE” than return to normal incoherent rambling. Bonus points if they make stabbing or throttling motions.
Type 3 will never make a specific direct threat but will always behave in a manner that makes you feel distinctly unsafe.
Type 4: The Lunatic
You’ve probably never seen Type 4, and probably never will. This is because Type 4 has already punched a Subway clerk in the face for being a treacherous agent of the Kumquat King and is now being incarcerated at the appropriate institution. Should you ever actually get to witness this rare beast in its full majestic glory, considering yourself lucky. Unless you’re a Subway employee.
But anyhow, now that you know how the system works, allow me to get back to my tale. As I said, I encountered a Type 3 in the wild, and did not have any pokeballs left.
When I first stepped on the Skytrain he looked perfectly normal. Well, fairly normal. He was rambling to himself but I mistakenly believed he possessed a cell phone rather than a direct RSS feed from Jesus. Turns out he wasn’t talking to a phone at all. He was conducting a conversation with a Christmas ornament. Not just any one either. A battery operated one. It was a sort of torch/candle thing that lit up and he was hunched over, staring into this divine light and muttering soft words to it as if it were the One Ring.
Most of his rambling was incoherent at first, but it rose in tenor with each passing station. Till he was mimicking the automated voice whenever it announced the next station. Than he latch onto the station name as his next lunacy anchor and work his way out from it, unraveling it was he went. He would either attempt to rambling off a list of things that rhymed with the station, or he would give the station a series of first names like Freud Patterson or Nancy Metrotown.
But inevitably these little meanders would always return to his desire for a knife. Where’s the knife? I need a knife. A knife! Than the next station would bing, and the station announcement would distract him momentarily from his homicidal impulses. But they would always re-emerge within 3 sentences. Leading me to believe he was staying on the Skytrain simply because it stopped him from killing anyone.
Luckily he got off before downtown…..clutching his little light up candle and holding it in front of him as he walked like it was keeping the grue away. Which….well ok maybe it was but still.
...how?
The tenants of suite 402, both of them, somehow managed to lock themselves out……on their balcony 10 stories up. I do not know precisely how you would accomplish this. I did give them the benefit of the doubt. I sat, and I pondered, and I thought, and I thunked, but I could not, even in my vast brilliance, devise a scenario for this event for which stupidity or alcohol was not a factor.
I'm About to Offend Texas
Ho boy, where to start with this one. Alright, so this guy calls for legal aid….from the back of a squad car. Because he’s been arrested for DUI. Brilliant move to begin with, really. But our good ol’ boy is from Texas, so he jus doesn’t understand our weird Canadian laws and customs. So he’s just so confused and lost in this horrifically foreign country where no one even speaks American.
The best part though was his defense. Which was basically as follows:
Number 1: Canada is hard.
What with our weird rainbow money, extra U’s and complex social and legal system he just doesn’t understand. Er, sorry, he jus dun understand. No seriously this was what he said. He just doesn’t know our laws cus he’s Amerkan where apparently drunk driving is perfectly legal and vehicular manslaughter is a $50 fine. So he just doesn’t understand why he’s being arrested despite the fact the cop clearly explains exactly why you’re being arrested as he’s arresting you.
Number 2: Canada is still hard.
Again, our complex legal system eludes him. He just doesn’t know what his rights are in Canada or what he’s suppose to do. Despite the fact the cop would have told him exactly what his rights were as he was being arrested.
Number 3: He’s American.
He seems to be labouring under the mistaken belief that being American somehow overrules the local laws and social customs of any country he visits.
Now, that all sounds pretty stupid to begin with. But we’ve only just scratch the surface of this sad little fairy tale. There are two other key plot points in this poor boy’s little adventure. Namely, he has wisely chosen to refuse the breathalyzer. Because it is some sort of weird alien device that he just doesn’t understand and may or may not contain Canuck voodoo that could be used to bewitch him and trick him in a court of law.
Unfortunately, refusal to blow ( I’m not sure about suck ) here is, in legal terms, saying I R GUILTY. Thus he is in the back of a squad car, confused why red, white & blue does not offer him diplomatic immunity.
But the best part was, while on the phone to me with the cop right there next to him, he freely admitted he’d had a few shots of vodka before getting into his car. He was completely baffled as to why having a couple shots before driving was illegal and in any way qualified for a DUI. If anything he sounded downright shocked that drinking and driving was against the law. You know, exactly like it is in Texas.
Technology
Me “Good evening, <company>.”
C: “Hello, this is Telus Text to Landline Services. Telus client xxx-xxx-xxxx has sent you a text to landline message. Press 1 if you would like to hear it.”
Sure, what the hell.
C: "WANT TO FUCK? SO HORNY."
…..oh wow. Text to Landline uses a completely synthesized voice. So that was basically like being propositioned Stephen Hawking.
C: “Press 1 if you would like to send a reply”
Oh ho. Can I?
C: “Please state your message after the tone. <beep>”
Me: “How about no.”
C: “Thank you, your message has been sent.”
Technology is fun.
<mutter>
Me: “Alright, and what would you like to order?"
SC: “…I don’t know.”
How….why would you….just…..argh. I don’t know? I don’t’ know? What does that even mean? How can you not know? Wasn’t the fact you wanted something the entire reason you called to begin with? If you want something else, say yes. If you do not want something else, say no. It’s not that complicated, dude. This is not a question that should illicit any sort of confused response on your part. The whole act of phoning to place an order indicates you must have at least had some sort of idea of what you wanted. Some measure of foresight, even if it was rather dim. Else you would not have called.
I will admit that I do not expect very much of you after years of disappointment. But I at least expect you to be able to convey your desire for specific items. As that is the whole basis of my interactions with your lands and likely the focal point of your existence.
Ah yes
SC: “Whenever I try to load your website it won’t load the last page of the form.”
Me: “Hmm, alright-“
SC: “Is it because I’m on a Mock?”
Ah yes…..Mockintosh computers. I’ve heard of those. I use a PC myself but I have a few friends that swear by their Mockbooks.
My Powers Have Awakened
So, this evening I escaped to the break room momentarily ( I do require at least some sustenance ) when I heard the call bing….in my head. Clear as day. At first I took this as a clear indication of permanent psychological damage but as I curiously returned to the office and my desk, as if the mental bing had summoned me, I discovered a call on my screen. A call which, according to the call count, had appeared exactly when I heard the bell toll in my head.
So…..the good news is I’m officially clairvoyant. The bad news is my power only extends to our call software.
Hunter Gear
Me: “Alright, can I have the item ID number please?”
SC: “The item number?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “For the…..item?”
Me: “Yes”
SC: “ummm….Jammin’….hoodie.”
Me: “What’s the ID number please?”
I like this one. She repeated the question back to me as if she actually understood what I asked. Than plowed ahead blindly anyhow demonstrating she didn’t grasp a single word I said. I also like the Jammin’ hoodie. A hoodie so cool it’s a verb.
Me: “Alright, anything else?”
SC: “Uh….Jammin’…pant”
A hoodie so cool it apparently has matching pants. Jammin’ pants. Oh, sorry, pant. God forbid we should embark into the dangerous and uncharted world of plurals. Still, these pants be jammin’. Why, you ask? I haven’t the foggiest. I suppose I could check the catalog and see if I c-…..oh my god those are hideous. Wow. Skin tight black pants with giant neon pink writing up the legs. Legs which are, according to the description, studded. Oh, with what appears to be a reflective waistband. I assume so that any driver that spots those pants at night and swerves to try and cleanse them from the face of the earth won’t have an excuse in court for why you ended up kissing his radiator.
Oh it’s an entire set too. You fool, you only ordered the Jammin’ Hoodie and Jammin’ Pant. There’s a Jammin’ Tank too and its bright neon pink. Why didn’t you get all three? If you only have two you’re not getting all the set bonuses.
Are You Serious?
Oi. Ok. So this guy is on a cruise that left from Mexico and hit Vancouver before moving on too Alaska. But the cruise ship kicked him off in Vancouver. Why, you ask? Because he didn’t have an American Visa. But GK! Surely we can help him with that? I mean if it was lost or stolen than he's in a bind and we can get him to the proper authorities!
No, no, you’re giving him far too much credit. Your expectations for humanity are still too high. But don’t worry, one day they’ll be eroded away to the same level as mine. Nope, it’s not that he doesn’t have an American Visa. It’s that he left it in Mexco because, and I quote: He didn’t think he’d need it. He’s travelling to the US, and doesn’t think he needs a visa or anything to get in. Apparently he hasn’t been paying attention for the last 6 years. It’s pretty much standard protocol for US customs agents and border guards to shoot you outright if you can’t provide a DNA sample, retina scan and a full background check on your entire family going back 3 generations inside of 30 seconds.
They Don't Work That Way
SC: “is this a cab?”
Me: “No.”
SC: “Oh….do you know of any cabs in the vicinity?”
No, I thought I told you. My vast powers of clairvoyance only extend to <company>'s fine line of telecom products.
I HAVE SOLVED THE MYSTERY
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?”
SC: “…uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..”
Oh that’s not a good sign. That was just the first question and he’s already stalling out. I should brace myself….this is probably going to get pretty grim.
SC: “uh…can I place in an order please?!”
Me: “Alright, what catalog will you be ordering from?"
SC: “Uhhhhhhhhh dats KINGSTRICH CRAB”
Me: “..wh-what sorry?”
God dammit! I failed my Save vs Stun. This is bad, very bad. The sheer force of his idiocy may be too powerful even for me.
SC: “KINGSTRICH CRAB”
Me: “….I don’t understand, sorry.”
Which is a vast understatement I might add.
SC: “THAS OAKALAY”
Me: “…ok, but which catalog are you ordering from?”
SC: “WHAT~!?”
Me: “Which catalog do you have?”
SC: “KINGSTRICH CAB!”
Me: “…..what?”
Oh shi-, wait a second. GIANT ENEMY CRAB.
This foe is beyond any of you. Run, you fools!
Me: “I d-“
SC: It a flat cap. OAKALAY”
Me: “I need to know which catalog you have?”
SC: “<COMPANY>”
Quick, real time weapon change!
Me: “Ok, but which one? Spring? Summer?”
SC: “SUMMAR”
Me: “Alright, what’s the item number?”
SC: “uuuuhhh……….xxxx”
Me: “I’m afraid that’s not in stock.”
SC: “WHAT?!”
Me: “That’s not in stock, we don’t have any left.”
SC: “GuuuuhddgghhhDARN.”
Uh oh……there’s no telling what he might do if he can’t get something to cover his sloping forehead with post haste.
SC: “Uhh….maybe….imma…ano…cab one….waya second………..daaarrruuuuya…….dyuuuaaaauuuhhh….uhhhhh ”
I.....I have no idea what’s going on now, but I am terrified.
SC: “How bout Trickle CD CAP?!”
…trickle….CD?
Me: “What’s the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have that one either.”
SC: “Out of one too?!”
Me: “Yes”
SC: "Bout…..ummmm……uuhhhhhhhh…………..how bout……….harley Huntington sleeve cap”
Me: “What’s the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “I don’t have that either unfortunately.”
SC: “Uuuuuuhhhhoohrrrrrrdarn!!!”
You realize my life is in serious peril here. If I can’t find him some sort of skull ornament soon there’s no telling what he’ll do to me.
SC: “How bout dat other one? Dat uh harlin Huntington log flex cap”
Me: “What’s the item number please?”
SC: “xxxx”
Me: “Ok, I have that one. Would you like that one??”
SC: “I LIKE DAT ONE”
Now, to strike his weak point for massive damage.
Me: “Anything else?”
SC: “Uh, NOPE”
Me: “Just the hat?”
SC: “Uh, YEP”
End result? $20 hat. $45 in shipping and taxes. Oh, and yes, he was calling from great northern lands. One of the key sources of my nocturnal torment. But…..I think I’ve unraveled the mystery. Yes, that’s right. I have finally solved the riddle of the north lands that have tormented me for so long!
First, you must ask yourself: Why the hell do they even live that far north?! Well kids, most of these....towns.....were originally founded as part of the DEW Line. An early warning line of radar stations intended to give us warning of any Soviet bombers heading our way during the Cold War. Obviously, its purpose is no longer relevant, but I assume these folk haven’t yet realized they can leave now.
However, and here is the clue, the DEW Radar sites were notorious for the sheer amount of hazardous waste they produced and left in the arctic before they were decommissioned and cleaned up. Chief amongst which was a large quantity of abandoned PCBs. One of the primary health effects of PCBs on human beings is poor cognitive development.
See?! Suddenly, it all makes sense doesn't it!? There really is something in the water up there. The mystery is SOLVED. All is finally revealed!
….not that solving the mystery helped in any way. But still!
annnnd rest.
Set bonuses: Intelligence -50%, verbal coherence -25%, 40% Chance to Cause Target to Poke Out Own Eyes on View...
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