The General tapped his feet UNDERNEATH the table. His report on Project QUASAR was overdue. A wave of relief washed over him; the specialist entered the room.
“HOORAY!” the General exclaimed, evidenced by the exclamation point. “I have FAITH that you’re the RIGHT man for the job. Just PLUNK yourself down right here. At the rate we are paying to PURCHASE your SUPPORT, we have no time to spare.”
“Just the OPPOSITE is true,” Evil Editor said. “My skills are so advanced that we will complete this exercise quickly. You will still have three million dollars to buy that toilet seat you’ve been raving about. I hear its OUTASIGHT.”
“EGAD, you know about that?”
“PAH.” EE made a dismissive gesture. “Let’s get started. Even though my expertise is in advanced linguistics, I am brilliant and understand PHONEMICS. They are the building blocks of language. Now play me the SAILOR’s phone call.”
The recorded voice said, “A SLIGHEST BUTTON SWALLOWS ABOVE THE WOOD.” EE transcribed it with his many quills, which looked like PENNATULIDAE, when in fact they came from a RATITE, plucked from the abdomen near its CARINA, not from its FORELIMB like many other quills.
“Simple. Our speaker is an ACCIDENTALIST, I can surmise that he sees no cause for the button to ingest anything. Judging by the inflection in his voice he means BEECHWOOD, and given the accent he resides in the northeast LOCALITY. There is no secret code, unless you consider it code for 'that mother-fucker’s crazy.'”
--Rick Daley
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1 comment:
I want that toilet seat.
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