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November 18, 2005

Volume 8, Issue 18

Okay, Loverboy, everybody's working for the weekend.

Except you.

Why?

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After almost a quarter of a century, Professor Victor Rasmussen’s machine was nearing completion. “It took a lot of work,” Victor said. “But somebody had to build this thing.”

“What exactly does it do?” I asked.

“Remember that band from the 80’s called Loverboy?”

“I never cared for the music around that time.”

“Nobody did,” he nodded. “But it sold anyway. That’s when I decided humanity wasn’t smart enough to be allowed to live. So this is my Doomsday machine!”

He laughed maniacally at my horror.

“Working for the weekend?” he cackled. “After today there will be no more weekends!”

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 18, 2005 2:30 PM · Permalink

Because I work ON weekends.

Sucks to be me don't it?

Posted by: Dean Esmay at November 18, 2005 6:46 PM · Permalink

Jun grumbled. It was Friday night, and we were still in the lab.

I put on my jacket. "My gel finished running, so I guess I'm going out now. Gonna see the new Henry Porter movie. Wanna come with?" I asked.

"Can't," said Jun. "This goddamn thing won't work, I'm going to be here all weekend."

"What are you trying to do?"

"Transformations."

(Transformation: a molecular genetics technique which allows the insertion of foreign DNA into the genome of a living organism.)

"Okay, well, good luck with that." I left.

"Damnit!" said Jun. "Pig and elephant DNA just won't splice!"

Posted by: G-Do at November 19, 2005 8:53 AM · Permalink

What, haven't you ever heard that song by Loverboy?

Apologies to Parker & Stone.

Posted by: G-Do at November 19, 2005 8:55 AM · Permalink

South Park is often funny. :)

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 19, 2005 9:16 AM · Permalink

Every Friday, Pete would cash his paycheck. He’d pay a couple of bills and pump most of the rest into restoring his classic Dodge. With the money left over, he’d go bar hopping with a couple of buddies.

That’s where he met Karen, with flashing green eyes that melted his soul.

Over the years, a minivan replaced the Dodge and a pair of kids brought new bills. Every Friday night, Pete thinks of his old buddies. They’re still living the single life, still spending the weekends going from bar to bar.

Pete tries not to feel sorry for those guys.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 19, 2005 9:29 PM · Permalink

“I have until Monday to find enough money to pay the rent,” I said aloud. “How can I get money if I don’t even have a job!”

The green-headed duck looked up from eating a can of peaches to say,” Helen Keller once said that ‘optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.’ That’s good advice, Fred.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Helen had real problems compared to yours. I think it’s time to stop throwing your own personal pity party, Fred.”

“But partying on the weekends is what I do,” I replied.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 20, 2005 1:41 PM · Permalink

Ed unlocks the door, climbs up into the truck and tosses his shower bag on the bunk in the sleeper. He pours himself a cup of coffee, turns the pot off, settles into the drivers seat, cranks the engine, and updates his logbook. He belches a mighty blast of truckstop huevos rancheros, barely hearing the music from the radio as he gets ready to pull out.

'Everybody's working for the weekend,' he sings softly, then chuckles to himself. Weekend, hell ... he has to have this load in LA first thing Monday morning. There ain't no weekends in the long-haul business.

Posted by: hnumpah at November 20, 2005 2:25 PM · Permalink