But it’ll be easy to get Flatlined to leap into action and rescue those interns. Just tell her that someone has heard cats mewing from inside.
Little mews. Pathetic little mews. Getting fainter and fainter…
I never thought of you as someone who fights dirty before!
The rats are learning mimicry! :eek:
It’s a trap!
Check out the background music, especially before you split up, to enter the RK Lair one at a time.
Oh, I remember RatKing’sLair
… The classic arcade game with animation by Don Bluth. It’s little segments of cel animation, and you line up your quarters on the side of the machine, and then you slam that joystick to the side just as the background music goes CLAAAANG!, and your character performs a flip over the stack of pallets, and …aha!.. through the door before the Rat Minions can claw you!
You rescue the interns on this level, but you have to work your way up to be good enough to save the kittens.
I was riffing off of bad horror/suspense flicks, but now that you mention it, Rat King’s Lair might make a great video game by itself. It was, after all, a minor question in Fallout 2.
Keep the cheesy horror movie going, by all means. I just had to relate The Rat King’s Lair to Dragon’s Lair. While the other games of the early 80s looked like gaudy cross-stitching, Don Bluth’s animation (on LaserDisc) was beautiful.
Man, we spent a lot of quarters just trying to see what you can watch for free nowadays.
Oh, I watched people playing Dragon’s Lair, and tried it a couple of times, but it was way too rich for my blood. I died too quickly. I got the reference.
Once, I was scheduled to take my OCD minion to the RatKing’s Lair, and she showed up at work wearing a red shirt. When I called my boss on speaker phone to say that I was going to take John instead, because he was wearing a sensible blue shirt, boss understood. John understood. 22 year old OCD minion didn’t get it until it was explained. We all felt old.
That might have been a mistake. See, once you sacrifice a Red Shirt to the <whatever>, then you’re allowed to actually solve the damned problem. Of course, nobody is gonna wear a red shirt now.
**flatlined **don’t care no more. I don’t remember if she’s left already or leaves at the end of this month, but either way, she don’t care no more.
Due to my loud uncontrolled laughter, I have been obliged to let my children read this.
Then I had to explain it to them. Three blank stares, then the dawning approaches.
“Flatlined don’t care - flatlined don’t give a shit…”
Hey boss, you familiar with the saying “you get what you pay for”? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to use the painting contractor who was so far under the other bids it was laughable.
It’s been a month. The job’s half done. The guy won’t return phone calls or emails. Somehow this is my fault. It’s not my signature on the contract. All I did was gather some quotes.
Tell ya what bossman, you give me some cans of spray paint and I’ll go finish the job. Then and only then if you’re still not happy you can bitch at me. Until then, STFU and leave me alone.
I want out of that place so bad, but there’s a small part of me that kind of hopes that I’m around to see it when karma finally smacks that man on the ass.
I’m fully vested now. I’m just waiting until the end of the month because the club’s annual ride to the Wounded Warriors’ Barracks happens during Thanksgiving week. But, yeah. I just don’t care.
RAWR!!! I can flipping take anything now. There is an end date. What are they going to do if I bitchslap someone who really needs it? Fire me? BAWHAHAHAHA!!!
My job before this one was for the library, different county and state. But anyhow, there was one department head who not only acted like she ran the place, she even told her kids that she did. Confusion happened that time that her daughter came to my department and demanded to be allowed to borrow things without a card because her mother ran the place.
Whatever. The main problem I had with her was that she controlled my access to the system and she was a total Nazi about it. It made my job so much harder.
A week before I left, I created a new book in the system, using my password. I was the author and editor and everything. Then, I went to a different comp in a different department and used someone else’s logon to find the Nazi’s card number. THEN, I printed out her barcode and the book barcode and used the self check out to check the fake book out to her. As I recall…because it was such a rare book, the replacement cost was in the millions.
A couple of weeks later, my ex-boss called me, laughing so hard that she couldn’t talk.
I don’t get mad. I get even.
<long, low, admiring whistle>
Lady, if I ever need revenge on someone, I know who to call for the planning. That’s inspired.
Do you still have a fountain handy? How many people really deserve a dunking into that fountain?
Doing a mail search underneath the Flats Sorting System this morning, one of he flyouts I found was a political flyer for Joe Arpaio. :eek:
I don’t need to see that shit at work.
BTW, I found this significant, because I’m in Southern California. And the flyer was being sent to an address in Corona Del Mar, so it’s not like he’s being supported by a PAC in California.