From: Tamsin Bituminock, Head of Facilities Maintenance
Hi folks! We heard a rumor that the grandpappy clock in Ms. Fledgeling’s office was more cuckoo than a Cocoa Puff made out of strawberries. I sent Turlick up turlick at it (see what I did there? Guffaw!) and he said the doohickeys hanging down next to the doohickey that runs back and forth inside the doohickey that looks like a box that’s behind the doohickey that’s all clear were broken. They was mixed-up like a horse wearing Reeboks!
Anyhow, those doohickeys don’t grow on trees, and there was no way I was going to go to the grandpappy clock store just to get a replacement. That store is all the way down the street, or I could go the other way down the street to the other grandpappy clock store, but either one is so far.
The doohickeys don’t do much, anyhow. They just sit there looking pretty, like one of the Hee Haw Honeys after Lulu Roman got busted for drug possession. So I figured, my punkin tree has plenty of pretty punkins on it. And since I’ve already carved all of my jack-o-lanterns and baked all my punkin pies and made punkin houses for all of the stray kittens in the neighborhood that have leprosy, I brought some of my leftover punkins in to do the job, and my Turlick tried to hook it up to that mean ol’ grandpappy clock with a set of paper clips and a can full of bacon squeezin’s.
I guess he didn’t squeeze the right part of the pig, ‘cause it didn’t work, and that grandpappy clock went completely batty. Turlick eventually had to grab a rifle from his truck to put it down. It’s going to take a long time to clean up all the bits of doohickey from the carpet, so I wouldn’t walk up there in your bare tootskies for a while unless your feet are tougher than a turtle in a blender.
The good news is, we rescued the punkins before they got too much blood on them, so if you want one to drop in your coffee or maybe to hang over your desk for the pigeons to nibble on, be sure to come in and grab it before it’s gone!