Confusion Letter 10/8

Ok, I'm not sure how I got all confused, but I skipped March 2. So that is the letter I will display today as Letter 10, even though it was technically supposed to be Letter 8. I'm sure you can handle it.

Dear [adult swim],

Ok, I didn't fart. I don't think it's at all fair that I got blamed.

I was in a meeting with some very important people. There was a system failure due to some batch programs that were running improperly and it was causing some major reporting issues. I'm not an I.T. person so I don't really know the details, but I do understand that it was serious. There were several assistant commissioners and poeple so much higher up than me.

Anyway, I was far and away the low man on the totem pole so I was relegated to the plastic, public school chair. I didn't mind. It was kinda cool to be part of this group; movers and shakers in the department solving real problems and getting things done.

So there I was trying to pay attention, which was really hard because after the thrill of being involved in a top echelon meeting wore off it was pretty much all numbers and verbal clutter as far as I could tell. Words like V-SAM and DB2 and SQL Server begin to sound to the uninformed a whole lot like Brahm's Lullaby. I had to shift in my seat to keep from falling asleep. And when I did that my chair squeaked. It was a cheap, plastic chair, sot that's totally not my fault. But I admit the squeak sounded everything like a fart. A juicy one.

Naturally everyone looked over at me. Even the cream of society will turn to see who farted. Mark my words.

"It wasn't me," I said. "It was the chair."

The problem here is that when I get really nervouse, and when I happen to have had Taco Bell the night before, I do tend to get a little gassy.

"Michael," one of the assistants to the admin assistant to the deputy commissioner's sister's friend said, "Why are you in this meeting?"

"I got an invitation. I don't know," I said, and the room went back to the meeting at hand.

My stomach churned. I tried to hold it in. But I couldn't stop it. It was totally silent, but it was quickly discovered.

"Oh God," a person who is so high up I wasn't allowed to look upon his countenance said, "That chair must have been eating Mexican."

Everyone laughed the laugh of people who don't really get jokes because their world isn't funny, but who understand that jokes exist and that it is appropriate to laugh at them, especially when their lips are pressed up to an ass.

"Michael," that same assistant to whatever said, "I don't know how you got invited to this meeting, but I don't think this is the appropriate place for you."

"Ok," I farted.

Michael
March 2, 2007

Ps. She's right; this isn't the appropriate place for me. I need to work at [adult swim].

Pps. I won't eat any more Taco Bell.