Musings

[Delivery to the Seattle Times office to J. Arrakis]

( Inside the picnic basket. )

[Locked to G Dailey]
Quick. Tell me something gossip related, so I can get my mind off the crazy shit going on in this town. Darman news?

[Locked to J Arakkis and A Abrams]
Congratulations, Arakkis. The city's new insane vigilante? All yours to cover. Talkative asshole. Kid, get the man some photographs.

[Call to T Brandon, during work hours]
Ring

[ Left on the desk shared by M. Main and J. Arakkis ]

[On Wednesday morning, Max and Job will come to work to find a semi-smooshed white box on their desk with two cards taped to the top. One reads "Ms. Maxine Main" and the other "Mr. Job Arakkis" in flourished handwriting.

( Cards )

The white box with bent edges and frayed corners houses a whole, uninjured apple pie with a cinnamon crumb topping.]

[ E-Mail: M. Main and J. Arakkis ]

Hey Guys,

I'm back. What's my newest assignment?

- Aaron

[ Locked to M. Robinson ]

How was the party? Didn't miss me, I hope.

[ E-Mail to M. Main and J. Arakkis - Seattle Times Work E-Mail ]

Ms. Main and Mr. Arakkis,

I know I've only been working with both of you for a short time, and this is probably the worst time for me to ask for this. But I've just received a call from my aunt's friend back in Chicago, and my aunt was admitted to the hospital this morning. Apparently she broke her hip last night and she wasn't found until a few hours ago. [...] My uncle passed on a few years ago, so aside from friends, my aunt doesn't have anyone to help her out. Is it okay if I take some time off to go help her? I'll let you know as soon as I plan on returning, and I'll work double-time if you want me to.

Thanks,

Aaron

[ Text to P. Moira ]

I'm going to be heading back to Chicago tonight. My aunt had an accident. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone.

[ Locked to M. Robinson ]

I'll have to take a rain check on the party tonight, pizza girl. I'm sorry.

Haggis

[Email to J. Arakkis from Kathy's Thomas Inc email]

Dear Mr. Arakkis,

My name is Kathleen Ehrlich-Cohen, I'm in charge of media relations at Thomas, Inc.

I'm writing regarding an interview we'd like to set up with yourself and Thomas Brandon. This is not an invitation to a press conference, this is an offer for an exclusive interview. Please feel free to call my office in order to discuss this further.

Sincerely,

K. Ehrlich-Cohen

[Call to Oracle.]

[After this. Ring.]

[Forum locked to J. Arakkis.]

Want an exclusive, Arakkis?

[Forum locked to I. Hughes.]

[After this received no reply; Thomas was rather busy.]

Thank you for your good wishes.

[Thomas, Inc. email to K. Ehrlich-Cohen.]

I think it best I give an interview, at this point, there's no way to defer. Guidelines?

[Thomas, Inc. email to R. Todd.]

How'd he do?

[Forum locked to L. Henry & M. Main.]

Checked out, at home with Amanda. How did you find the Board, Luke?

[Forum locked to R. Darman & J. Corvus, because Thomas is irritated enough to flout the knowledge.]

I would like a report on what "I" did recently.

[Early the morning after the "Bat" appearance.]

[Locked to L Henry]
Swinging by the hospital on the way into work. Safe to assume he's probably been informed that the Bat was out last night. I'll try to do damage control, but I wanted to give you a heads up that I might need backup.

[Email to J Arakkis]
Revising that story angle?

[Locked to J Corvus]
I hate fucking ultimatums.

[Locked Forum Message to Job]

I do hope you are doing well, Mr. Arakkis. I believe I owe you Stoli and entrails. Would you be free sometime this weekend?

[Following news of Brandon being shot and the story's subsequent appearance on every local news channel, loud thumps and ranting can be heard emanating from the apartment. Nothing really intelligible, although every now and again words and phrases like "dogfucker" and "hope badgers eat your entrails" and similar bizarre nonsense can be discerned.]

People are bastard fucks.

[Posted absurdly late/early on the day of the shooting, depending on your perspective, and copious amounts of alcohol were probably involved.]

[Click for foul language and drunken ranting about how much Job hates people. You have been warned]( Read more... )

[To J Arakkis at his work email]
How does it feel, Arakkis?

[Delivered to J. Arakkis at his desk at the Seattle Times and at his apartment.]

( Delivery )

[Sent late in the afternoon, the day after this]


Main-

Attached you'll find a rough of that article you're so keen on reading. Apparently we're supposed to have some kind of circle jerk before our constipated gargoyle of a boss will let me submit it, so go ahead and fact-check until you're weak-kneed and sore. Let me know if it all checks out to your specs.

-JA
( Read more... )

First of all. I'm fairly sure what's going on is a VIOLATION OF RIGHTS. My right to a head free of outside thoughts and external invasions, and your right to keeping your deepest feelings to yourself. I don't want them, and I'm pretty sure you don't want me to have them; overall it's just a lawsuit in the making. Speaking of, to whatever sick, degenerate FUCKTARD is causing this: expect to hear from my lawyer once I manage to intimidate one into representing me pro bono. If I'm getting them from other people I can only assume SOMEONE is getting mine, and I'd LIKE THEM BACK. Or at least compensation for your idiot decision to steal them.

I would apologize to anybody who got mine, by the way, but it's not my fault the cumstain responsible shared. So instead, I just say YOU'RE WELCOME. Hopefully it gave some entertainment to an otherwise boring afternoon.

On a related note. If you are on the Board of Directors for Thomas, Inc and/or a soldier (no clue in what war, I would be more specific but apparently your brain isn't. WW1 or later is the best I can estimate), I would really appreciate it if you could get in touch with me. I've got a few questions for you both. You can reach me at [insert phone number and email address here] or just reply here.

ATTENTION SCAMPERING MAGGOT-INFESTED MASSES.

First off. Metaphorical hat off to whatever brilliant walking cum-stain invented the mini-computer. MORE INFORMATION THAN YOUR TINY PEA-BRAIN CAN HANDLE, in the PALM OF YOUR FUCKING HAND. Genius. My brain may be currently melting out my ears from sensory overload, but it's possibly the most educational and enlightening death in the history of the universe and time itself. Like being killed with an atom bomb filled with pop culture and news feeds instead of uranium. Arming the masses with easy-to access information in chunks that are small enough for even the most cranially challenged drone to digest from anywhere in the entire fucking world? Brilliance. Sheer and utter brilliance. I think I may need to hole myself up in this flea-ridden excuse for an apartment for the next week while I get re-acquainted with this Brave New World of ours. If anyone could tell me where the nearest Indian place is that both delivers and has samosa that comes with chutney that almost burns your tongue off, it would probably speed the process.