Office building shaped like a picnic basket is going up for auction soon. No mention of giant mutant ants in the story.
They’ve been trying to get rid of that thing for a while now. First 7.5 million, then 5 million, and now–apparently–“make me an offer.”
“Do we have a bid for this unusually themed office structure? Aaaand…we have a starting bid of a buck and a quarter from the large gentleman in the very fuzzy jacket, sunglasses and porkpie hat.”
O’course, the fact that the damn thing still hasn’t sold is certainly newsworthy.
If I bought it, I would name it “Helena”.
“First two mill carries it away. Land not included.”
I really hate time-travelling plagiarists!
“…2010…? Spit No Wonder the sandwiches in the vending machines taste stale…!”
If they removed the “handles” and maybe repainted it, it would pretty much look fine. Might improve the chance of selling it.
With the handles, it’s pretty hideous, though.
Wicker might be out of style though.
Royalties due by the first of each month, or Guido shows up promptly on the 2nd. I accept small, unmarked bills in a envelope labeled “Dammit, Doc beat me to it”. Give the envelope to the dog at the corner of 4th and Main, he’ll get it to me. Do not attempt to pet the dog, he bites.
Whenever I hear anything about that company I’m reminded of a former co-worker. She was really nice to me, which was good because I was new to the company and happy that I seemed to be fitting in well. After a couple of days I discovered why she was going out of her way to be welcoming: she just wanted to sell me one of these goddamned baskets.
Screw you, Longaberger, I’m glad you’re going bankrupt.
I hope they demolish that damn eyesore.
You’ll all be whistling a different tune when the 700-foot tall forest ranger comes to pick it up.
I think their current plan is to hope Paul Bunyan wanders by and thinks “Hey, free basket.”