THE ML WEEKLY NEWS Thursday, November 22, 2001
Rated G Issue #005
Editor in-chief: The KodeMaster Journalist: David Hugo
Grammer Checker: Sah-Rae Hyjo Content Suggester: Micro Hue
THE NO-NEWS CRISIS
A general state of panic and fingernail-chewing were the dominant feelings present at the ML Weekly News Building scant hours before this issue was due to go to press.
The problem was that a certain journalist had nothing to report. The said journalist fears this is because his beloved pen -- with "Inspiration = Desperation" enscribed on the side -- has gone missing.
When this alarming state was revealed, a meeting was called and our staff were sat around a table under the worst conditions imaginable to one's sanity.
Not that we had any sanity left at the time, however, but that is another matter entirely.
As the Editor glared at each and every one of us and asked -- a more accurate term would be demanded -- whether anyone had a problem with the current arrangement.
While some successfully stilfled their attempts to raise their hands, the vast majority just wasn't trying hard enough.
The Editor rolled his eyes, and asked if anyone would like to discuss the terms of any disagreements with Special Agent Wilhelmina Stoker Harkness, who, after very little debate, was recruited by security personell.
When these words were uttered, all hands promptly went down.
Hence, after much debate, it was decided that late is better than never, and so almost-blank newspapers had to be published a day after the due date.
If this situation is to be remedied, this penless journalist will be forced to find a replacement source of inspiration. Please post all submissions to our Building, as our staff already wear protective clothing due from the fumes due to our Editor's inability to do his yearly brush of his teeth.
By the way, we don't evacuate this Building.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
(Some material may have been
edited or created due to
formatting, space demands,
or other reasons.)Dear Editor,
The government has invested a great deal of money in Special Agent Harkness. Your possession of those photographs compromised our agent's safety and so a covert operation was launched to recover the pictures. Sorry for the mess, but kitchen's can be replaced, lives cannot. By the way, the date on a carton of milk is there for a reason.
Sincerely,
-- Phillip Corvin,
Director of Intelligence-One.Dear Editor,
Thank you for the opportunity to check out Harkness' assets!
-- Anonymous the 1st.Dear Editor,
You're writing a newspaper?
You must be NUTS!
-- Anonymous the 2nd.
EDITOR'S ROW
Our editor was rather shocked to discover that his apartment -- or what was left of it -- resembled a bomb-shelter when he came home to it yesterday after a lazy day's work.
And he was downright horrified to find that the beloved photographs he had stolen from himself were right in the middle of the explosion, as concluded from the rare charred and tattered remnant of the photos.
The wail that immediately passed forth from our Editor's lacklustre voice-box was heart-rendering in terms of duration and tonal quality. Indeed, many photographs on the walls of his apartment could be seen redrawing themselves on the spot as a result.
Meanwhile, all the editor could think of was of how much he'd have to fork out to get his sister to tidy the area up for him.
WEATHER REPORT
The Ozone Layer is expected to collapse into a classic "Star Wars(TM) Bottomless-Pit(TM)" later this week as Ezekiel Rage, in a lame attempt to re-continue Elaine McMillian's Breakthrough series, writes a new version of "Future Rage".
In an interview at the artist's lair, we asked him, "How's that gonna change the weather?"
"I, Ezekiel Rage, by virtue of the clearish green glass canisters shall make it rain fire and sulphur down on the wicked. THE INSANE SHALL PERISH IN PURIFYING RAYS FROM THE SUN!" he screamed, "SO IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE BOOK OF RAGE!!!"
"Umm... right, Zeke." We scratched our heads at this. "And what does that mean to the average MLer?"
"Not to go outside without wearing sunscreen," he grins.
MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH
There they sit, the preschooler class encircling their mentor, the substitute teacher.
"Now class, today we will talk about what you want to be when you grow up. Isn't that fun?" The teacher looks around and spots the child, silent, apart from the others and deep in thought. "Jonny, why don't you start?" she encourages him.
Jonny looks around, confused, his train of thought disrupted. He collects himself, and stares at the teacher with a steady eye. "I want to code demos," he says, his words becoming stronger and more confidant as he speaks. "I want to write something that will change people's perception of reality. I want them to walk away from the computer dazed, unsure of their footing and eyesight. I want to write something that will reach out of the screen and grab them, making heartbeats and breathing slow to almost a halt. I want to write something that, when it is finished, they are reluctant to leave, knowing that nothing they experience that day will be quite as real, as insightful, as good. I want to write demos."
Silence. The class and the teacher stare at Jonny, stunned. It is the teacher's turn to be confused.
Jonny blushes, feeling that something more is required. "Either that or I want to be a fireman," he adds proudly.-- Source: Grant Smith, 14:32, 21/11/93
