10/12/2k4 - Alas, Thompson

While on our coffee break, Drew Parazynski was selling his usually jive about politics. An old friend of his was running for senator, in the upcoming election, and he thought she could use a Jim Rage endorsement. After touting that she was a “great candidate” who’s against “big spending”, “big business”, and “inflation”, he went on to say that once she got into office there would be enough money for “government, social services, and the space program” the last of which he addressed to Baxter Black.
Always one to have a soft spot for space travel Baxter Black exclaimed “Hey! That’s great, what’s her name?”
To which Ben replied “Alice in Wonderland”. Big laughs.
Looking up from his whipped cream topped double-choco-cocoa Rye Crofter rudely interrupted “Sorry to interrupt, but speaking of Alices, has anyone heard from Alice Thompson lately?”
Alice Thompson had been sent to Mexico to get her hands on some of that Spanish gold they got down there. The Smithsonian had recently unearthed an ancient Aztec temple, but it was savagely protected by mummies. So they wanted our help to get to that there gold. We were a bit hesitant to work outside our territory, ever since the Barry Dooley incident, but the commission was too good to turn down. Alice Thompson was selected for the job because she’s the most responsible and it’s important to remember that when you’re in a foreign country you’re not just representing yourself, but all of us back here in the states. Along for the ride was Benji, because if somebody’s going to die it better be somebody who’s last name we can’t remember. Back at our break table the room was silent and pretty awkward. Ben scratched his mustache, which has actually become more of a beard now.
“We’ll the reason I bring it up…” continued Rye, “is that I drew pictures of everyone and I’m proudest of the one I did of her.” Rye held up a pencil sketch, which was indeed street vendor quality.
“Can I see that?” Inquired Baxter Black, who had decided somebody should probably man up. “Nice, oh wow, that’s really terrific. Really, really, really looks like her. Wow. Sure does. Wow. That’s, that’s beautiful Rye. Really nice. Wonderful” After about five minutes more of hollow, meaningless compliments Rye Crofter chimed in again.
“So where is she? I want to give it to her.” Faces were made, shrugs shrugged, and finally a rock paper scissors game was lost prompting Chico, The Mad Hatter, Suavé to stand up.
“Rye Don’t you remember we told you? uhh… Alice Thompson died. She, she’s dead.”
“Oh yeah, I remember now. Well I’ll give it to her when she comes back.” Rye said with glee.
Hanz Irontheighs sighed a long sigh. “Rye. Alice Thompson’s not coming back.”
“Why not?” replied Rye.
Hanz stood up, which would’ve given The Mad Hatter the perfect opportunity to leave if he hadn’t been so far away from the door. “Rye, when people die, they don’t come back.”
“Ever?”
“No, never.” Begrieved Hanz.
Rye’s breathing became heavy, which masked the sound of Chico jumping out the window. “Why not?” Continued Rye.
The intercom suddenly crackled on. The voice of Jim Rage sternly explained “Well Rye, they’re dead. They, they can’t come back. One more thing could somebody explain to me why at 2:30 in the afternoon none of my employees have anything to do but lounge around in the break room? I mean I’m not paying you to…” The sound died as Drew “accidentally” tore the intercom out of the wall and threw it out the window.
“Why, she’s gotta come back! Who’s going to take care of t-shirt sales? Who’s going to make me my Samoa™ milkshake? Who’s going to read me stories?” Rye was beginning to get hysterical.
“Actually I always took care of the t-shirt sales.” Said Drew, now visibly irritated. “And, ugh, I’ll make you you’re Samoa milkshakes, and, and we’ll all read you stories.” Everyone was pretty disgusted at this last comment, but we we’re all relieved when it had just been a ploy so that Drew could get close enough to knock Rye out with a rag covered with chloroform.
We paid the woods people a few bucks to drag Rye far into the woods and explain to him, when he woke up, that he’d lost his talking privileges for a week.
A blood stained letter is tacked up on bulletin board.
“You’re girl Alice almost had me there. She was a smart one, but even she didn’t see the dinosaur coming. I must say it surprised me a bit myself. No need to be dino-sore about it though. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other talented staff willing to die trying to stop me from leading Apuch’s army. Knight B7, check. –Mr. Nighttime” In an epic coincidence it appears that we sent Alice Thompson unknowingly into an evil EPA plot. So after needlessly giving his motives and location away we’ve decided it best to send somebody down to Mexico to, like, save the world and stuff. It just so happens that our very own Zachary Kervin has been tracking that zombie dinosaur that’s been in the news lately and it’s lead him all the way to the border.
Condolences for Alice can be sent to 536 Bedlam st. Rm. 42-T, Blue Springs, Vermont 09078. Get well soon cards are also being accepted at Alice Peck Day memorial hospital in Lebanon NH for The Mad Hatter who received a pretty nasty concussion after being hit with the intercom system.