Sunday, May 12, 2013

With a Nod to Walt Kelly's "Pogo" - The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 17 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

"I don't know what you're talking about." "You weren't good enough for a partnership at one of the Big Four firms, so you wound up here."

Jon grabs my shoulders "You got me all wrong Copper. I could've been a partner, see? I could've been somebody!" I brush him off "Really?"

"Look around you. VP at a not-yet-profitable for-profit medical school and here you are roughing up a nosy shyster in a milk and sugar bar."

"Is this the exciting, rewarding career in accounting you dreamed about? Could you sink any lower?" Jon glances at the recumbent Chancellor.

"You are all GAAP technique without substance, turned into the joke of the man who is made into a robot." "I don't know that one." I smile.

"What did the mechanical man say when they stuck a key in his ass?" "What?" "'I never thought I'd wind up like this!'" Lenny starts to cry.

"I get that." Lenny says sobbing. Jon steps back. "You got it wrong. I came onboard to make the tough decisions and set this school right."

"Looks to me like you took the easy way out." "Firing people is hard!" "Not as hard as saving livelihoods and managing a business for real."

Mary says "Whatever. I'm hungry. I 'd like to have a little lamb." She tries lifting the Chancellor who topples backwards into Jon's arms.

They carry the him out. I'm left to pay the milk bill. On the bar my own glass remains untouched. I pour in sugar and take a sip. Not bad!

Now I'm sleepy. What a duplicitous case! I've gone from double-dealing with a dead man to second-guessing two medical school pencil pushers.

And with a pair of yoyos like Mary and the Chancellor running things, I worry about Regi's health. I must get on-island pronto.

The Chancellor warned me off, but danger is mother's milk to me. I take the ticket off my windshield and toss it in my glove compartment.

Mary warned me off, but don't I don't think we share compatible signs. I remove the car boot from my left rear tire and toss it in my trunk.

The accountants warned me off but their threats don’t add up. I take my car off cinder blocks, replace the tires and get in. I'm out of gas.

Fortunately, my car is a wind power hybrid, so I hoist sails and, thanks to an off-shore breeze, I make it to the gas station on the corner.

As the 7-Eleven attendant hands me my receipt he warns me to stay away from the island but not about the taquitos. I begin to see a pattern.

I have a hunch no one wants me showing up in person, prying into dark secrets they are hiding on that campus or in that convenience store.

Granted there are logistical problems running an off-shore medical institution. I suspect the Chancellor's school has stepped across a line.

I'm just looking for Regi Granger. Don’t they realize that this overreaction to my inquiries just fuels my curiousity and my determination?

Granger's doppelgänger said Regi masqueraded as a Caribbean medical student to investigate the shortages and outages happening stateside.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

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