Victory is ours!
Attention, readers of Crazy Apple Rumors Site: this is Jack of As the Apple Turns. I and the rest of the AtAT staff have wrested control of the CARS offices from its indigenous inhabitants (man, say that three times fast) and hereby claim this cubicle farm, as well as any Macs, liquor, and office supplies contained within, in the name of AtAT. We brought a flag, which transforms this act from criminal trespassing into mere expansionism, and therefore makes it all nice and legal. We have planted said flag in the cafeteria and pointed a small electric fan at it, so that it’s waving gently in the breeze.
The breeze of victory. I did mention the whole victory thing, right?
How did it come to this, you ask? Well, basically we were sitting around the AtAT Compound one day and Katie (AtAT’s resident fact-checker and Goddess of Minutiae) mentioned something about how we should be building an empire, because all the really cool people have empires. Plus the Compound’s been feeling a little cramped lately, what with Anya (our resident rampaging toddler and Goddess-in-Training) leaving all these smoking piles of rubble in her thunderous wake; she’s the reincarnation of whatever fifth-century devil-child first inspired the phrase “this is why we can’t have nice things.”
So I was thinking, hey, the guys down at the CARS office only have crappy things, so it’s perfect. And they’ve got fluorescent light, too, which is sorta like Anya Kryptonite, so she’d be all logy and compliant most of the time.
We hoarded some weapons, hired a few mercenaries, and put together this really spiffy plan of attack. Seriously, it was color-coded and everything. In shades. We called it “The Plan.” We should have called it “Da Bomb,” ‘cuz it was, yo.
Anyway, after what must have been days of preparation, we finally invaded this morning, and, well, here we are– in what used to be the CARS offices and which are now to be known as “AtATian Outpost #2.” The Plan came off without a hitch. It worked perfectly.
It probably would have worked even if there had been anyone here to fight.
We’re not sure what the deal is, but when we got here the offices were empty. We figured maybe everyone was just out to brunch or sleeping late or something, but it’s been a few hours, now, and no one’s shown up. The only “beings” we thought were guarding the place were two women who ran at us while brandishing what we originally thought were billy clubs of some sort; when the women got closer, we noticed that a) they were sexbots; b) they weren’t exactly “attacking” us, per se; and c) those weren’t billy clubs.
We pointed them towards a couple of the mercenaries, who have since told us a bit breathlessly that we don’t have to pay them anymore, so that actually worked out pretty well. And now AtATian Outpost #2 is ours. The BREEZE OF VICTORY, right?
It’s just that…
Well, I really would have liked to use The Plan to its full potential, you know?
Don’t get me wrong– The Plan still worked perfectly. But we worked really hard on it, and I feel like it never had a chance to prove its greatness. After all, it’d have to be a pretty bad plan not to let us take over an empty office. Even a plan as weak as “walk in and declare victory” would have worked for that. You’d need one as bad as “stand outside, nail your feet to the ground, and then beat yourself senseless with a claw hammer” to screw up an invasion as easy as this one was.
I mean, we did extensive research on our enemies’ weaknesses. We brought a raw steak to distract Howard the Talking Dog. We knew Masako is a Marathon junkie and at the first sign of conflict would instinctively run straight for the nearest SPNKR, so we built a replica of Marathon’s missile launcher and filled it with bees. Katie cleverly disguised herself as Chet’s girlfriend and prepared to disable him with phrases like “I can’t believe you thought that would be a good Valentine’s Day gift” and “Who told you five inches was ‘average’?”
Anya had perfected a piercing shriek that turns noncorporeal Rigellians like the Entity inside out in six dimensions. (You shoulda seen us testing that one, boy howdy.) We brought a raw steak to distract Ugluk. And Moltz… well, Moltz is Moltz. We didn’t need much strategy to deal with him, but we put him in The Plan anyway. I had a sock full of quarters with his name on it.
Seriously, right down the side: “John Moltz.” Color-coded, in shades.
Well, whatever. We’re here, we won, we’ve got an empire underway, now, and world domination is probably just months away, so you should all remember to stay on our good side from now on. In fact, we’re demanding tribute. We’d make you all send us Baked Lays, but Anya just busted open the Entity’s dimensionally transcendental bottom desk drawer, and apparently we’re set for the next couple of millennia on that front. Maybe Sprite or something to wash them down. We’ll let you know.
And we’re going after Irkutsk next. We’ve been told that it’s better to get Australia and Siam, first, but we really can’t resist anything with a name like “Irkutsk.” We’re leaving real soon now.
Just as soon as I get John’s name off this sock.