Collapsing Shack, AZ—Once upon a time companies and major corporations were only owned by humans, or their close cousins like The Discord staff. Not anymore. The Discord Tower has been purchased by the Crawdad Alliance. They plan to gut the structure and fill it with a murky swamp water, which according to staff, “Really shouldn’t be much different.”
Earlier today America’s Western Crawdad Warfront Against the Retarded Discord (A.W.C.W.A.R.D.) has purchased a controlling share of Discord stock, making their sinister plan not only possible but inevitable. A.W.C.W.A.R.D.’s spokesperson Kenny the Crawdad was available for comment. “It was surprising how cheap the stocks were going for. We were able to purchase 51% of the Discord stocks for an old dead catfish and half a bag of Cheetos. Now all we need to do is move in, fire those incompetent Discord writers, and start our reign of terror. I’d like to stuff those bastards into their own damn crawdad traps and force them to listen to Justin Beiber’s new hit “Yig is a Scaly Pig.”
The Discord’s Alex Bone said, “They forget that we’ve relocated our base of operations to Arizona where killing crawdads is not only legal but encouraged. Transporting crawdads is also illegal. So if they can’t reach us, they can’t fire us.”
In an unprecedented move, Bone, Zano, and Ballz destroyed all the company phones and computers. “No emails means no pink slip,” explained Zano, who has used such tactics successfully in the past. “No pink slip means another full day of napping, drinking coffee, and then leaving the office around 11.”
I asked Ballz how the Discord would be able to function without computers to produce their articles and he replied, “Bah Meh MEH!” and then stormed off, mumbling like a sailor.
Around noon, I hurried to call Zano back to the office. Against state regulations, hordes of the involved fungi known as the Migo were using the Fort Lowell Observatory as a launching point to send thousands of quivering crawdads toward the Flagstaff Discord Tower in attempt to claim their prize. The police were called, but were forced to stand down.
Captain John Mitchum explained, “You see, it’s against Arizona law to transport live crawdads, but these here crawdads are all dead zombie-like things and, thankfully, still delicious.”
Quickly realizing there is no law against killing undead crawfish, I hurried to crush the small invertebrates into a stagnant mash. It took forever. I was almost late for beer-thirty, but I obliterated the undead invertebrate threat. Did you see Pacific Rim yet? It was kind of like that but we didn’t have any tech and our enemy was small dead crawdads instead of colossal inter-dimensional monsters. Other than that, it was exactly like it.
Meanwhile, we’re trying to syphon all the water out of Discord Tower but the whole place still smells like shit. So we’re all currently camping out in Cokie McGrath’s living room and using her laptop—the one she needs for college papers and posts—to write this update. She’ll be fine. She can start her twenty page term paper, that’s due tomorrow, after we finish these Mother Road ales and look up the new dolphin swimsuit issue in Blow-Hole Magazine.
Hey, Cokie? The growler is empty again, do you mind?