Correspondence is the act of coming together for oral intercourse, and thereby sharing information and coming to conclusions. Following the AT&T’s advice from the 1980s, I decided to reach out and touch someone for a third time, and that someone whom I wish to speak with would be Sheila Paquette. She has yet to respond to this third request, sent on the 3rd of January, in response to her request that was sent sometime in October.
Feel free to read the fascinating first and second parts in the Sheila Paquette Arc.
Once again it would appear that I had participated in a particularly spectacular bout of sleep-hunting, claiming four grandfather clocks and a Pentium class computer.
The grandfather clocks are very replaceable. In fact, I have several dozen on hand at all times as replacements for those lost in the hunting accidents that have become commonplace on my sprawling estate. However, the Pentium class computer was one that I had held very dear to me, as it was my only means of accessing Internet, and therefore my only means of checking correspondence.
I had tried my best to get it working the only ways I knew how - I tried bribery, long bouts of angry tirades, and threats of deportation. None of which had any effect. As I shouted "Computer, you bumbling claptrap of circuits, activate!", the particularly stubborn computer didn't respond to my humble request, but I did get a response from a very scared servant who recommended purchasing a new one.
I glared at him out of joy, which he mistook for an anger glare, and began to flee. As the servant attempted his futile escape, my legs which are toned to Greek statue perfection from years of horse racing, pumped furiously and caught up to him as easily as I catch up to a Thoroughbred. I grabbed him by the collar and threw him against a bookshelf full of copies of The Economist which I purchase to make me appear more smarter. He cowered on the ground and said "Please don't hurt me", which I found particularly strange.
"Hurt you, my dear lad?!" I bellowed. "Why, I only injure those who are incapable of working for me due to excessive injuries! Now, yell at this computer until it responds" I continued bellowing. I then retired to my bedroom for the night, and drifted away to slumber while listening to the calming shouts of my servant as he worked faithfully throughout the night to fix the computer.
I awoke to two more broken grandfather clocks, and to one functional computer. I have a sneaking suspicion that the computer is not the same as before, since the previous one read "Packard Bell" and this one reads "Gateway 2000", but Internet is the same so any of my misconceptions are naught to be worried over. I am once again able to return to Internet and check all of the comings and goings.
Amongst those comings would be a mail that came nearly a month ago, which may not seem like such a long time, but to put it into perspective; one month is nearly seven months in dog years.
I am happy that our correspondence continues, and am pleased to once again ask, "Hello Ms. Paquette, how may I help you?"
On October 29, 2011 3:35 PM, Sheila Paquette wrote:
I'd like to add you to my professional network on LinkedIn.
Although you claim that this was oral intercourse, it was written. I would contend that writing of this caliber will be saved in the annals of history. Therefore, it would logically change for oral intercourse to history intercourse.
Butt of course.
I’m seriously hoping that more people try to contact you on Linkedin. They would be fools not to.