third prong of the swingline

eric fumbled with the change in his pockets as he nervously waited outside the colonel’s office in the long cinderblock encased hallway of the underground base. at long last, the door opened, “i’m ready for you eric.” the man said without looking up. “go on and have a seat.” the colonel said as he sat a small white styrofoam cup of black coffee on the table in front of eric. eric glanced up at the man. “don’t worry, it’s clean.” eric noticed a large pad on an easel in the corner with elaborate diagrams and arrows and he briefly caught the word “swingline” before the colonel realized it was there and immediately flipped the page. the colonel folded his arms and kept his back to eric and sighed, “tell me what you know about project “swingline.” eric knew everything about project swingline, and the colonel knew it. “what the hell was he after?” swingline was a top secret three pronged population control project that had been ongoing since the late 60’s. it wasn’t a pretty story. the first prong dealt with a mild mind sedation. the agents found that a certain pesticide sprayed on the coffee beans in columbia was quite effective in numbing the imagination while giving the drinker a slight sense of euphoria. the euphoria was the hook. the second prong was a little something nixon had thought up himself, it was sheer brilliance. lighting. every office has the same long tubular lighting above their workers, and as the coffee numbs their minds, they never question their composition. anyone who has ever broken one of the long bulbs has almost stumbled onto the scheme, and never realized it. the white powder inside, pure columbian cocaine. it seems the low voltage of the bulb heats the coke to a dull bake, creating the world’s finest crack mist money can buy. the third prong was the part eric had been working on, and it didn’t go over so well. eric’s plan was simply called “chat bots.” eric’s idea was running smoothly at first, but he never thought the colonel would fall into the trap. “you wanna tell me what the hell this is eric!” the colonel cried holding up a print out with tears in his eyes. the paper read, “hey guys, wanna chat with a hot cheerleader, i’m lonely! sweetypie_38d” “please god tell me she’s real eric!”

9 comments:

Ms Bees Knees said...

I'd inhate crack mist with all my might. Sounds lovely. You know, that actually sounds like something the Bush Administration would do. They're all about the mind control. Nice work...

RuKsaK said...

Magic piece of writing here - I should pass by here more often, so have linked you.

Cheers

Lizabeth said...

I knew there was something behind those lights.

Mere Existence said...

That's the story of my life... well, one part of this novel is anyway.

Kim said...

fantastic as always... keep them coming!

Tricorn said...

HOLY WOW!

I traced my way across the globe (following comment after comment) and voila!

Artist at work! All stand in awe and gape!

In-omigosh-credible stuff you got her, AsAffDoubleUPee!

Stephen McMullin said...

I still don't know who you are, though this is all entertaining stuff. What CD is this? I didn't think I had anyone's QOTSA CDs except my own...

Svelte Rogue said...

hey there. i like what i've seen so far! (not that you care whether i like it or not) may i link you to my jumba day site? (http://svelterogue.bluechronicles.net) hope you drop me a line soon.

ok, onto the earlier entries now. tata.

superflywebpimp said...

if you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you. but if you make them think, they'll hate you.
-don marquis