Schmeat The New Bosses

Her seeker found it in that dusty store. She only had to barter a pound of beaker bacon and a nice block of schmeat. But she knew her Mistress would have approved. Many a night to flickering juicy juice had the priestess described this item to her. Now she had found one and will return with her prize and hopefully receive rewards a plenty. Good N Plenty.

The look on her mistresses face made her small pigeon chest swell with pride before she bowed low in ritualistic presentation and forked the artifact over to the wisest of the wise of the days of their lives.

The High Priestess snatched the artifact and hurried to her most prized possession. There she tried to insert the item into the gaping slot of the machine. No matter how she inserted the silvery rust stained object or how many buttons she pushed or knobs she twisted nothing happened, other than the low glow of the machine from the load of juicy juice it was receiving.

It was then the wisest of the wise. The Ryans Hope of all General Hospitalland made her pronouncement.

“We obviously need seven more of these to make it work. After all, the front of this Rad o Shack gizmoddo does say 8-Track.”

As for any concern about the paltry data I had stored on that gussied up CD in my puter’s I have no fear. The Carrington Event Redux of 2017 made electronic mince meat of those ohhs and ones as well as all stored electronic data on this little spinning rock of ours.

Thanks Sól


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