What do you know/ Letter 3/ disclaimer

Well, what do you know? I decided to try uploading the pic from home and it worked. I'd go back and erase that whole part about not posting the pic until Monday, but I think I'll just leave well-enough alone.

Letter 3:

I had a dream last night that I worked for you. Only, in my dream I was made of blue Play-Doh. And every time I would try and get some work done someone would walk by me and say, "Hey, Mike! How's it going!" and they'd smash my blue, Play-Doh head in. And everybody in the room would laugh, and I would chuckle and pretend it was funny. Then when the laughter had died down I'd get up and feel my half-blind way to the bathroom so I could re-sculpt my head in the mirror.

After a while, as I'm sure you can imagine, this started to get old. Everyone was coming up with new ways to squish me. they'd bend my arm backwards, or turn my head all the way around while making a breaking sound, as if they were Steven Segal. They'd punch me in the chest and see whose fist could go the deepest. Then somebody got scissors and much fun was had pushing in my back and watching my hair grow, then cutting my hair so close that I actually lost most of my scalp. Then, of course, came all of the "eye gouges," stabbing me me in the heart, then in the head, tearing my heart out, and ripping my head off, and, of course, kicking me in the Play-Doh balls, which, in case you want to know, did hurt!

Then someone got the clever idea to squish my hands. At first this was even funny to me because I couldn't fix it. I kept asking mpeople to sculpt new hands for me, but everyone would say, "Awe man, I don't know how." Finally I found a lady in the art department that I thought would be my savior. She promised to sculpt new hands if I would let her play with my hair. Reluctantly I obliged and before I knew it she was sculpting my face.

At first she made me look like Jessica Simpson. It was funny, and a bit disturbing, how many guys said things like, "Man, he's hot." Then I looked like Peter from The Family Guy, then Meg, then Stewie, and pretty much the whole family. Then she made me look like Ted Turner and everyone gasped. Instantly four people shouted, "Mike Lazzo." I think it's best if I don't say what you depraved lot did to me after that.

At that point everyone wanted in on the action. People were tearing chunks off of me to sculpt as they saw fit. There were tiny little pieces of me all over the place, all looking like some famous actor or cartoon. And the whole building was alive with laughter and chatter, when someone yelled, "Lazzo's coming!"

A hail of blue bits of me went flying into my chair. Loosely they clumped together in a mound. Most of the staff scattered to their offices, but a couple stayed behind and tried to quickly mold me into something resembling a person. They were not successful in time.

Mike Lazzo came walking through the door. "Hey," he said, "I'm here to greet the new guy."
I heard his feet shuffle over to me. "This is him?"
"Yeah," one of the ladies who had been sculpting me said, as if it was obvious.
"Right," he said. "So, how was your first day so far?"
I was silent.
"It's 'Michael' right?" he said. "How was your first day, Michael?"
I was silent.
"Is this a joke?" he asked the lady.
"No," she said.
"This isn't a guy. This is a lump of Play-Doh."
"It's him."
"If it's him then why isn't he answering me?"

The lady looked down at me and then made a realization. Quickly she bent over and dug a hole out between my lips and used the left over clay to make a tongue. I tried to smile around her hands as she took a bit too much time putting in a row of teeth.

I smacked my lips and swallowed, trying to get rid of the taste of fingers in my mouth. As an after thought she made me a couple of really pathetic eyes. Then I looked up at the lady and Mike Lazzo. He sighed. "How was your first day?"
"Ok, I guess," I said with a smile.
"Just ok?" he smiled. "That's better than bad, I suppose. Why don't you show me what you've done today."
"Well, sir," I said as my arm dropped to the floor, "Actually, I haven't been able to get much work done."
"How much is 'not much?'"
"Um," I paused. "Any."
"You haven't done anything?" he asked, sounding increasingly frustrated. "I don't pay my employees to do nothing. I want results. I took a chance on you because... well, because you're made of Play-Doh, but this is not a fun Play-Doh... fun factory. It's a cartoon studio. And we have serious business to do." He paused for a moment and looked at the pieces of me on the floor. "What a mess. I knew I should have hired the guy made of Nitrous Oxide."

"Excuse me one second, sir," I said, defending myself a bit too aggressively. "I am ten times the man that Nitrous Oxide guy is. He has no substance. Sure, he'll make you laugh a little bit at first, but then he'll put you to sleep. I am a great writer and I would have gotten all kinds of work done, if it hadn't been for everyone tearing me apart and making me look like President Clinton or Princess Leia or Big Bird. Every ten seconds I had to go to the bathroom and resculpt myhead."

"Really?" he asked, seeming concerned.
"Yes!"
"Was it the Star Wars Princess Leia, or the Return of the Jedi Princess Leia?"
"I'm not kidding!" I said, growing angrier. "I wanted to work, but they wouldn't let me."
"Alright, Michael, alright," he said. "I believe you. These guys can get out of control. But don't get all bent out of shape about it."

signed
August 14, 2006

Ps. I wasn't sure of what the best cheesy ending would be here. I had two alternate punch lines.

-These guys can get out of control. But you need to pull yourself together.

-These guys can get out of control. But don't fall to pieces on me.



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dislcaimer:
I would like to state for the record that I in no way believe that Mike Lazzo, or Cartoon Network, or any of the affiliates of Time/Warner, would discriminate, or say potentially discriminatory things against people of Play-Doh. Nor do I believe he/they would base his/their decision to hire a person solely on whether they were or were not made of Play-Doh and/or Nitrous Oxide.