I don't get it, Evil Editor thought. April 23 is the anniversary of my first blog post. A whole year of sending electrons into the ether, and I don't even get a lousy email from the one person in the world I want to hear from? Sure, you're a big celebrity now, but where would you be if not for EE? I may as well just end it all.
He reached into the drawer where he kept the knife used in the O.J. murders, his first-ever Ebay purchase. I wonder if his fingerprints are still there after all these years, he thought. It would be ironic if he got away with those murders, but got convicted of killing me.
He was about to plunge the knife into his chest when he was stopped by those fateful words: You've got mail! Could this be it? He clicked on the mailbox. The subject line read New Comment on Evil Editor's Anniversary. He opened it and read:
30 comments:
Do it! DO IT!
Evil Editor,
I think you're funny, so don't kill yourself. But I have to admit, I'd be impressed if you managed to stab yourself in the chest, as opposed to something wimpy, like wristslashing. But if you do do it, please don't say you did it to impress me; I'd rather not feel guilty.
"EE, my man. Sorry I left town w/o letting you know -- the heat was onto me. Anyways, change in pricing: the big bags are $50, and the little ones are $25. Stop by any time."
Dear Evil Editor,
Turn the knife upon those who would steal your day of glory, for a ridiculous SFWA flame war has resulted in a new holiday on April 23. Today, the technopeasants have eyes only for finished works of original fiction and none for episodic ridicule. Killing the culprits would be kind of, you know, lame, but you could always bake them a pie and cut their slices out with a yucky murder knife, and it would be totally gross when you told them.
"Miss Snark: marry me. -Clooney."
WTF? wondered Evil Editor, staring at the screen.
"You've got mail!" the computer chirped again.
The subject line was the same. EE opened it. "Please disregard my previous post," he read. "And by the way, congratulations on your anniversary."
[word veri: "aishcwe"
Gesundheit.]
Happy Anniservery, EE.
EE,
I have bad news for you. The knife you bought on EBay must be a fake as I still have the knife with me. I take it out of hiding sometimes to look at it. It still has blood encrusted on the blade.
I gather that you did not ask for a warranty for the knife when you bought it. Therefore, you cannot get your money back or even exchange it for something else.
Yes, I am still a celebrity. But I get guilty looks and condemnation wherever I go. Even though the courts have declared me not guilty! The system is all messed up.
The public even rejected my book. No matter, I am in the process of writing a new book on How I would have killed Anna N if I would have known her.
If I do not make millions, I may have to use the knife on myself. But that is for another book.
OJ
Dear EE,
Happy anniversary.
Didn't know this was the fate-filled date until you said so.
Don't know about that "one person" you wanted to hear from, but whoever it is (or isn't), hearing You've Got Mail has got to be better than hearing yourself scream like a girl when you first feel that knife blade, don't you think? Hell, even paper cuts are too painful.
It's like Woody Allen said -
"It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens."
And even cowboys get the blues.
It's like I said before, I don't know what possesed you to begin this blog, but here's hoping your possession remains intact.
I think blogger ate my first post of this. I'm goin' to cry! Here it is again!
Anniversary
An opening, a facelift, await evisceration.
A GTP, a BVD? A happy anniversary.
Minions dance, minions sing, happy centenary.
A floozie and frilly phantasm, cavort along a stream.
A trenchant Evil Editor awaits, Bowie all agleam,
Ten minions soon to follow, quibbling, nagging, screaming.
With words a-prance, with query bare, with egos closely furled,
We proudly flock for sage advice, with hope to publish all our dreams.
We hope that in another year, we can do it all again.
cheer up, ee,
some of us were just burried under a rock. well, i was, anyway. see, lost all my capitals, and whatever was left of my mind.
don't do it ee, live, live, live!!!!!!!!!!!!!
oh, and sorry if my punctuation made anyone's eyes bleed.
love,
nut.
A haiku in honor of a full year:
slashed queries run red
tears splash keyboards; cold hearts wail
seasons of evil
Nice dramatic post. I might have fallen for it if you'd turned the web cam off.
Hi, EE!
Got a minute to read my query letter?
Think sexy urban fantasy meets Zane Grey as a cow-roping elf, a transgendered werewolf, a brutal eunuch, and a cast of wacky and amusing characters guaranteed to appeal to anyone who loves Tolkein, are forced to choose between true love and pursuing their destiny through the nexus of time travel itself, battling their personal demons against all odds in this 516,877 word--
Uh... EE?
Hey, Evil, you still there?
Damn. All I really wanted to say was...
Happy Blogiversary!!!
Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago with the gin. Get a move on, I need to get the bucket filled before she notices it's getting low.
What, are you moping around cause no one has noticed your anniversary? You think that's an excuse for being late?
XXOO KY
Hey, My Man Evil:
Without your invaluable editorial guidance, "A Million Little Lies" would have been a boring little story. But you kept pushing and pushing. And because of you, well, one little lie led to another and another until there were like a million of them all crammed in there screaming for attention. Hell, I bet there's one lie in there for every author who even thought about going on Oprah, huh? But it was MY lie that made it! And it was YOUR wisdom and encouragement that made my fifteen minutes of fame possible.
Did you think I would forget you on your anniversary? Hell no! I remember ALL the little guys who helped me get where I am today. Which reminds me, buddy. Can you help me polish up that query for my next memoir, "A Billion Little Cons"? I owe you one, man.
- Jim
Happy #1; looking forward to #2!
Phoenix
Hey, Evil! Where in heck are you? We're all down here at Malone's. We got an open bar, finger food, a huge cake with the, you know, special filling. The girls'll be here in five. You better get your butt over here, buddy, 'cause we're starting without you!
Hi friend, its been too long. Having troble keeping your grlfriend happy? I know, me too! Not any more thouogh.. I found this gret site: www.monstrouspenisimplants.com. wow it realy works! My grlfriend cant get enugh now. You should try it. im only teling my closist friends, but I wanted you to know, try it, you can trust me, itll be explosiv!
Dear Mr. Editor:
We regret to inform you that we do not feel sufficiently enthusisastic about your current body of work to include among this year's finalists. Literary excellence is a high honor and, while your work shows merit, competition is tight. Keep at it, though, and try us next year.
The Pulitzer Prize Board
Wow, word ver was too close to 'malignant' for comfort. I interpret that to mean stop teasing Evil Editor, he's quite well qualified in every way, and just say thanks.
I don't think I was here on opening day... (word ver says: 'stop making excuses). But thanks for the past year of wit and wonders. It's been fabulous. Please never stop (the blog).
Dear Mr. Edditor,
As you are awar, Blogur is a subscription ser vice providing high quality Blog services to highly regarded professional suck as yourself. In order to maintain the high quality of our services we must charge an nominal annual fee that pays for our staff and infrustructurs. Wee are pleased to be able to tell you that we have been able to hold our fee at the same immpressively low level for another year.
For your continued conveniences, we are able to deduct the relevant fee directly from your bank account upon provision of your bank and checking account detai;s. I'm sure you will appreciate the convenience of this added service.
To ensure ongoing, uninterupted service, please provide your bank and checking account details by return by replying to this message, or email us at blogurbilling@5a6cce7.freeisp.or.ni
We look forward to your continuing interesting customs.
Sincerely,
Cpt. E M Forrester rtd.
Blogur srl.
After a 13-hour day at work, all I can think to say is...woot for anniversaries! Since I have not a romantic bone in my body, I have to admit that I haven't remembered an anniversary in my life, so you shouldn't take my forgetfulness personally. Cheers!
Hi EE,
How long are you gonna make us wait before it's your turn to talk?
Has it really only been a year? My, you've packed a lot into those twelve months.
Congratulations!
Hi EE, My last message was way too short. Sorry about that-- a bit burned out after going on a writing spree for GTP.
Your blog is great fun--It's one of four sites I always read when I log on. THanks for dedicating the time and energy!
Cheers for more great years to come!
Two out of ten posts produce a suppressed chuckle. Eight out of ten posts make me laugh out loud. Ten out of ten posts make me think and in most cases, teach me what not to do.
Thank you and Happy Anniversary.
Oh, and please don't kill yourself. Between you and Miss Snark I'm learning how not to be a nitwit. With just MS's help alone, I'll still be a half-nit.
Dear Snookie-woogums,
How've you been, you handsome devil? Gosh, time flies when you're busy, but I have missed you. Let's have dinner soon, Pookie-pie; it's been too long!
Love and Kisses,
Eva Longoria
Seems like only yesterday.
"Wanted to write. Was trapped under something heavy."
BELATED ANNIVERSARY CONGRATS! AND MANY THANKS!!
Well, I know one thing--that e-mail ding, u've got mail, didn't come from me. I've been buried.
Belated tidings on your anniversary. Thanks for everything. Now drink up and get back to blogging. And NEVER suggest that you'll kill yourself again. Please.
Dear Evil.
If you do end up stabbing yourself with that knife, could I have it afterwards? I mean, the blade used in both the OJ murders and the Evil Editor suicide? Man, it makes the Spear of Destiny look like some grubby old Roman toothpick…
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