Rated PG The ML Weekly News Issue #003
Thursday, November 8, 2001.
Editor in-chief: The KodeMaster Food Preparer: My Mother
Grammer Checker: Sah-Rae Hyjo Content Provider: Micro Hue
ROOMY WONDER
After moving across town, our journalist has unpacked his computer and made a bunker, military-style, out of his new bedroom, turrets, fortifications and all.
Four hundred forty kilometres and five-hours ten-minutes later, some things never change, and the state of one's room is one of them.
Locked deep within its messy depths is the auburn-haired eighteen year-old as he mindlessly types on his keyboard amidst a caffine-induced haze. His eyes squint at the screen through a pair of what can be passed off as a pair of sunglasses while a blank document is displayed before him.
He racks his brain, putting it on the shelf behind him, so his body can concentrate more fully on the task at hand. Before his typing begins, he starts to snore fitfully, yet his eyes remain completely open.
When he awakes, he finds, to his astonishment, that the document is completed. He reads it, makes corrections, deletes silly and idiotic material, nods, and prepares to patch it into his email program.
Then, the power dies, and he promptly tears his hair out.
The Document had gone unsaved.
THE MADDER MOB
After suffering for two weeks without a newspaper, citizens of MLerville formed a mob outside the ML Weekly News Building yesterday and demanded that their withdrawl symptoms be taken care of.
Thinking of something else entirely at the time, the editor mistakenly arranged for carton-load of Jolt Cola to be distributed.
While this was greeted with much thirst-quenching madness, it still remained that not only did we a have a mob on our hands, but it was now on a caffine-high, at that.
They broke in the front door, went to drag out the editor, and several mobsters went insane at the sight of his state of appearance.
"Pikachu daks!" they gasped and promptly fled.
Others merely gritted their teeth and continued on with their mission to oust the incredibly lazy editor.
Still others insisted that he stay, stating that he was clearly mad and therefore must not be so bad since he is just like them, and a fight soon broke out.
Others, however, said that the editor's attire was clearly an improvement over what other citizens wear -- or don't wear -- and is really is not as bad as it seems. They cited Jer as an example.
Despite their best attempts not to, these were dragged into the ensuing fight, kicking and screaming, and many bruises and broken thumbs followed from too much finger-jabbing and punch-throwing.
Onlookers regarded these events with amusement before softly shaking their heads and murmering, "Sad."
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
(Some material may have been edited or
created due to formatting and other reasons)Dear Editor,
I accidentally sent you the wrong roll of film.
Instead of sending the film from my trusty Olympus Superzoom 115, I seem to have sent you the film from an Intelligence-One prototype, zero-light camera being developed by Dr. Quest.
It seems the prototype was accidentally left at my house over the weekend and it looks just like my Olympus 35mm camera, as you can see it was an honest mistake.
Please return the film to me ASAP because, I'm really not interested in finding out how big the exit wound is from a hollow-point bullet.
Thanks,
-- MeachDear Editor,
It has come to my attention that you are in possession of a roll of film removed from an Intelligence-One camera.
The film was obtained illegally by a person known as Meach.
Please be advised that you are to return said film immediately, or else I shall be forced to use extreme prejudice in regards to the film's recovery.
Sincerely,
-- Special Agent Wilhelmina Stoker HarknessDear Editor,
Please post a correction regarding an article recently published in your fine periodical.
Erroneously, Meach was identified as the person in some photographs that have recently came into your possession. For the record, the person identified as Meach was in fact Wilhelmina Harkness.
I would also like to state, infallibly, for the record that we were not drunk. However, we were having a delightful time, as I am sure it is evident by the photographs. I had forgotten that I had set the camera for an automatic time sequence when I loaded film.
Please return two sets of 4 x 6, glossy finish pictures along with the negatives.
Regards,
-- Dr Benton C. Quest, CPA, BPhy(PhD), BSc(PhD), BEng(Hon), BIT(PhD), BMath(Hon).
EDITOR'S ROW
Today's article, originally intended to be on the current plans to redecorate the ML Weekly News Building, (i.e. whether or not painting the HRA logo on the building front wall is such a good idea,) is going to be placed in the circular-file for thoughts far from those of a personal nature.
This lonely journalist was rather alarmed to learn from his desk that no, his editor does not in fact live under his desk in his office at the ML Weekly News Building. In fact, our humble (cough) editor (cough) actually rents an apartment at an address we choose not to reveal for security reasons. (he never lives there, anyway, but the editor has threatened to squish us if we tell.)
Regardless, the entire office staff were rather disturbed to learn from our editor that his apartment was recently broken into and his treasured and misappropiated photographs of a woman and a scientist on honeymoon was stolen. Would whoever this unfortunate burgular is *please* return the stolen articles, or at least give us some new ones to return to the owner as if they were orignals?
The editor's office is currently under siege by Special Agent Wilhelmina Stoker Harkness and her trusty .45 Magnum.
The staff is cowering under our desks and writing this column on hastily-grabbed laptops that are powered by sweat.
In an additonal note, our editor is currently hiding in his office and protesting to the lovely Special Agent that he has no idea where the said item is, that he's never had enough time to appreciate it anyway because a burgular decided to borrow it without asking him first.
Huddled under his desk while holding a mobile phone to his ear urgently, he has hurridly dialled the number of the police several times, yet all attempts so far have been routed to Mav's Fish and Chips.
This journalist is meanwhile left wondering if it is possible to aquire a sledgehammer in order to either escape through the floor or forcibly calm down the beautiful woman currently towering over this cringing journalist.
Eventually, we hope to put this encounter behind us, end the chapter, and start a new one.
And in case the reader didn't notice, that was a less-than-subtle hint for all authors of unfinished fics at the Archive to just hurry up and get on with it.
WEATHER REPORT
When we heard the professional foretellers of events predict, "Fine, fine, fine, for the rest of the week," just this morning, we journalists could not help but feel struck with a severe nagging doubt, as many other MLers later agreed when told of this.
"That's crazy!" one said in shocked response. "I don't believe it!"
"They're predicting WHAT?!" another exclaimed.
"Say again," instructed another, "my phone just died."
"So what?" uttered a newbie before being struck by lightning.
Visitors to the ML Weekly News Building told us that, "April Fools is in April, you idiot, not November."
So as these events pass out and are administered CPR over the coming week, it shall be seen by all just how accurate these meterologists we've employed turn out to be.
And maybe, if they are even meterologists at all.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH
(standard JQML disclaimers apply)Benton was channel-grazing when he reached a documentary on the mating habits of wild African giraffes. The Doctor of Phenomenology paused to consider it for a moment, then passed on. *Channel 82... 83... 84...* The reddish-brown haired scientist shook his head wryly. *Just when you suspect they already have enough channels, they start producing MORE??* was the question which ran through his head.
Benton stopped his idle flipping of channels his in his tracks. *WWF?* he briefly considered, then gently shook his head. *Nah... it would freak out Jonny too much if he knew his father watched this.* Quickly darting looks around the room, Benton hastily flipped the channel before anyone discovered him indulging in his dirty little secret.
On the next channel, Benton's hand gripped tighter on the cushion next him, and he decided to start all the way back at the beginning again. Race had subscribed to certain channels in the upper numbers recently, and Benton frankly did not want to watch such kind of stuff. He'd have to contact the PAY-TV provider again. A continuous stream of "Rambo" and "Under Seige" movies were not exactly his idea of a channel they really needed to pay extra for.
He flipped back to the children's channels and started to watch "Sesame Street". *At least that's relatively sane,* he thought, then added after some time, *From a relative viewpoint, of course.*
Benton considered what he had just thought, then quickly turned off the set and left the room to get an Aspirin. It was frightening. If that situation had continued for much longer, Benton was sure he'd have gone stark, raving mad.
He shuddered to himself. Imagine HIM, of all people, the great Doctor Benton C. Quest, watching Sesame Street! He grinned to himself suddenly. *And I thought Jonny was a bit too old for that stuff...*
-- The KodeMaster
