Our communications technology department here at QU has picked up some strange transmissions in the ethernet. There is apparently a hot new etherapp called “Twitter” that is interfering with our mind-control transmission signals. I have included below a couple of the transmissions we intercepted. It seems each post is limited to 140 characters, which has inspired contests and bursts of creativity not seen since back when I time-travelled to ancient Japan and invented Haikus.
Twitters from the Immortal Club Men’s Room
As transcribed by Randall Scott Henderson
Twitter Avatar: Twitter 9.0 Transreality Communications online. Welcome ImmortalClubJanitor. [WHAT ARE YOU DOING?]
ImmortalClubJanitor: Testing. Is this thing working? Hi. My name is Ed. I clean the “male” restroom at the Immortal Club. Thought I’d try this Twitter thing.
ImmortalClubJanitor: Damn zombies. One let his bowels loose in the hall. Literally. I’m cleaning bowels from the carpet. New zombie rule – diapers or no entry
ImmortalClubJanitor: Saw Betty, she cleans the “female” restroom. One of Hestia’s brood. Fine woman, great hips. But the bosses dislike us workers fraternizing.
ImmortalClubJanitor: Damn. Eaters of Souls and Corruption Bingo night. Corruption don’t smell like roses to start; but crapped out corruption? Fuggedaboutit.
ImmortalClubJanitor: My 137th birthday today. Bosses got me a cake and a card. Big boss called me Fred. Awkward. Betty wasn’t there. Seems she quit. Damn.
ImmortalClubJanitor: Dark gods don’t even try to aim, evil bastards. I mean really, on the ceiling? Come on! I put cute bunny targets in toilet, but didn’t work.
ImmortalClubJanitor: The good gods might eat sweet smellin love, but their poo smells like a dead rat floating in rotten milk. It’s the stress. Bad for digestion
BathroomBetty: @ImmortalClubJanitor Hey Ed! Didn’t know you twittered. Remember, at least good deities are quiet and clean in the stalls. Their bowels move in mysterious ways.
ImmortalClubJanitor: @BathroomBetty Hi Bett! True. And I’d rather have Good God stink than clean digested hatred off ceramic tile once it’s dried and hardened. So where you at?
[YOUR DIRECT MESSAGES]
[Direct Message] BathroomBetty:I’m working for a wealthy jinn whose looking for another palace janitor. Hint, hint.
[Direct Message] ImmortalClubJanitor: Wow. Leaving this job would be hard. Been here 87 years. Job security and all. And once I burn that rainbow bridge, ain’t no going back.
[Direct Message] BathroomBetty: Yeah, well, I thought you liked my hips, big boy?
[Direct Message] ImmortalClubJanitor: You read that?
[Direct Message] BathroomBetty: And liked it 🙂 Your hips ain’t bad either. And FYI – the jinn doesn’t discourage fraternization. Just sayin. Think about it.
[Direct Message] ImmortalClubJanitor: I will. Thanks. And if you’re ever back in this dimension, look me up.
[WHAT ARE YOU DOING?]
ImmortalClubJanitor: Why do good gods make bad customers? They never give tips, just sad smiles & advice to forsake the need for worldly goods. Yeah, thanks bud.
ImmortalClubJanitor: Vamps. Act all royal & snotty. But ever smelled blood digested thru dead guts? Redefines ‘something crawled inside and died.’ I need a raise
ImmortalClubJanitor: Bosses laughed about the raise. And they’re making us pay for our own coffee now. Company cost cutting. Bastards.
[YOUR DIRECT MESSAGES] [Direct Message] ImmortalClubJanitor: Betty, get them hips ready, ’cause here I come.
Twitter Avatar: ImmortalClubJanitor session terminated.
Your Assignment: Share any interesting twitters you’ve intercepted to assist our technicians in analyzing this phenomenon, or your thoughts on the twitter craze in general.