You don’t write. You don’t call. You haven’t deigned to join us here since this post over a year ago. OVER A YEAR AGO!!! You’ve disappeared before. Quite often in fact. It’s not odd for you to be gone for months on end. But a whole year? Where are you?
I’ll tell you where we are. We’re here almost everyday, you jerk, hanging out, trying to fight ignorance, answering questions, engaging in debates, but do you care! NO! You’re a heartless machine who, apparently, has gotten to good for us here. Well, BITE ME, YOU SADISTIC A******!!!
No… wait… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it… Please forgive me. I haven’t been right since you left. It’s just that I miss you so much. I can’t imagine going on without your presence. Why have you been gone so long? Don’t you care anymore? When did you stop caring?
I understand. You’ve probably found someone else. Hanging out at other message boards, chatting it up with other posters. Or maybe you’re spending your time with Mythbusters or snopes, likeminded people who borrowed heavily from your ideas. Well, here me well: THEY’RE SLUTS!! THEY DON’T LOVE YOU LIKE WE LOVE YOU!!! THEY’LL BREAK YOUR HEART AND WHEN YOU COME CRAWLING BACK HERE LIKE THE SNAKE YOU ARE, I WON’T CARE!!!
That’s not true, and you know it.
I just don’t feel like I know you anymore. And you certainly don’t know me. It’s probably all my fault. I can post better, if you want! Yeah, that’s it! I’ll post more often and more intelligently!!! I’ll balance just the right amount of information and snarkiness. You’ll love it!!! I’ll greet you at the front door in noting but stilletto heels and Saran Wrap!!!
I swear, I just heard that needle-skidding-across-the-record-music-stopped sound effect in my head. There may even have been a Scooby-Doo “Rwah?” after it.
Cecil Adams is the dude who “writes” The Straight Dope. Y’know, that column in The Reader (et al) answering dumb (and a few smart) questions that we all followed in here one day? Look up, it’s on the masthead.
Look, maybe he really is working late a lot, you ever think of that? People do work late, you know. It’s called dedication. And so what if he’s taking ballroom lessons? You think it’s girly for a guy to learn ballroom? Let me tell you, it takes cojones to man up and take the plunge. What, that perfume? You ever think that maybe he’s getting sick of that spicy, musky stuff? What’s wrong with wanting to smell a little sweet and floral now and again? Variety is the spice of life and it really shows his sensitive side. And don’t even think about that lipstick on his collar. Pssh! That could have come from anywhere. He could have tripped and knocked over some poor woman on the street. It’s just dumb luck her lips landed where they did. What? What photos? Those photos? His boss. Don’t tell me you’ve never sucked up before. Everyone does it, ain’t nothin’ to it. So what if they were at her house? I hear he’s an excellent cook. Seems only natural he chase a raise through her stomach. I would, wouldn’t you? Damn straight you would. That? That isn’t groping. She was choking. You’re looking at the heimlich manoevre. From the front. It’s trickier that way but it can be very effective if done right. And that right there, that’s CPR. Obviously whatever she was choking on caused her to pass out. Why not on her bed? It’s soft, far more comfortable than a hard floor where he could potentially damage her back. You think he wants to be responsible for that? It’s just good sense is all. Oh, oh now, see, that one there, it looks like ol’ Cec passed out from all the CPR so now she’s returning the favour. I mean hell, he just saved her life, it’s the least she can do, right? What? Where? That … there? That looks … that’s … it seems like … LOOK, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
I keep trying to do my homework, but then I think of him, and the next thing you know I’m drunk again, sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window with “Free Bird” playing over and over on my iPod while I smoke clove cigarettes under the indifferent stars.
He told me he was going on a top secret mission, very hush-hush. He might not even come back alive, and due to the nature of the mission, the authorities would not only deny everything, they would deny that Cecil Adams even exists.