Cake and Failure

August 28, 2013

Dear Diary,

Contrary to what the movies suggest, you can not shove an automatic weapon through the cavity of full grown man and expect it to keep on shooting. It gets clogs up with wet bits and eventually jams. Now I have to completely change my plan of attack on the Retro Dome. Which sucks because I thought zombie shields sounded like a genuinely good idea.

I am not going to take the blame for this one. This failure lies entirely on Shelly’s shoulders. Shelly is the head of Fowler Inc’s biology labs. Or at least she was. I haven’t decided if she still has a job, that German moron. Like most of my staff, she’s just one disappointment after another. This whole “using zombies as living shields” thing is just the icing on a big, fat, failure cake. Wait. Cake might be a bad metaphor.

I love cake.

I hate failure.

Note to self: Get the kitchen to send up a cake. I want cake. Now.

Caligula seems to think the chief of biology is a position better held by a man. I disagree. I don’t see how having a schlong makes someone better equipped to hold any particular position. Except maybe a male porn star. I mean, you can make a strap-on only look so real. Though, as long as you aren’t looking directly at it, you can’t really tell the difference, can you? If you wrap your hand around it, or your mouth, sure you can tell.

Trust me on this.

I don’t think of myself as a feminist, but I do believe Caligula is biased in favor of men because he is a male. I don’t say man, because he hasn’t been a real ‘man’ cat for years, if you get my drift. My point is that men and women have been equally disappointing to me. I hold no special hatred for men just because every single one I hire has been a complete and total screw up. Save for Bart, of course. Bart is the exception to every rule, including genetic manipulation, cloning, stem cell research, bio engineering, chemical warfare … the list just goes on and on.

Future villains and villainesses beware: Growing your own minion in a vat is a costly venture. You probably won’t have enough resources to invest in more than one. So, make sure you get it right the first time. It isn’t like mixing a big batch of ice cream and churning it until it’s done. It takes loads of science and high end technology and just a bit of luck. Lucky me, Bart came out just right.

Note to self: Get them to send up some ice cream with the cake.

Again, my point is that while most of the men under my employment have been failures, so have the women. I am an equal opportunity employer. I have hired an equal amount of men and women in my line of work. I have also fired an equal amount as well … from a cannon into the heart of the volcano that heats my underground lair. What can I say? I consider myself a fair boss lady. Do right by me and I reward you with another day of life. Cross me and, well, you get the idea.

Anywho, the zombie shields are a no go. To make matters worse, I can’t get the stink of dead out of my hair. It even got under my nails. And why is it I cant stop sniffing my hands? Geesh. I know they are going to stink, but I keep on smelling them. It’s like when you pick at your belly button, and you know that finger is going to smell like ass, but you bring it to your nose anyways. Then you actually flinch at the horrible scent, as if you somehow hoped it would smell like roses. Or is that just me?  Please say that isn’t just me, because I do the same thing when I scratch my ass.

Who knew zombies would deteriorate so easily? Mine took just a half dozen bullets to the stomach and all but exploded in my arms. I guess the reason is pretty obvious. They are walking corpses, for Pete’s sake. Yet, like a world class moron, I expected a tougher zombie. When I strapped her into her own zombie feeding tank, Shelly pointed out I didn’t ask for super tough zombies, just regular zombies. I had to go back and read the order form, and I hate to say she is right. I didn’t specify super tough zombies. So, maybe it isn’t all her fault. But it was her idea, and while it was original I can’t ignore the total failure of it. Thank evil we were just running a drill and not on a real mission.

Speaking of being a fair boss lady, I hate to reward originality with infection, but damn it! I can’t just let her go unpunished. Besides, it’s probably too late to rescue her from her own creations. I can hear the zombies shuffling into the feeding hall right now. Ah well, perhaps I can hit her with the intellect enhancer ray and have myself a zombie chief of biology.

Oh, I rather like the sound of that.

Note to self: Get them to send some porn with the ice cream and cake.

Until we meet again,

Sylvia