Blip blip blip. "24." Longest day of Kiefer's life.
Previouslys. ForeignAccentedTerrorBoss pulled the plug on Gaines's operation. Jalapeno didn't think anyone would die as a result of her involvement with Gaines, but they did…herself included. All Palmer wanted to do was protect BadTherapist from the silencing tactics of KreepyKarl, but his actions were in vain. The KieferKlan were reunited when Kiefer broke into the TerrorKompound. He called Alberta for back-up and spared Rick's life on the advice of his stupid stupid daughter. An armed konfrontation between the KieferKlan and the TerrorMinions separated everyone and sent them running into the woods. Kaboom!
The action begins right where we left off with the KieferKamper exploding into flames, throwing TerrorMinions back several feet. Gaines looks around. FauxYork looks around. Elsewhere, Kiefer and Rick, a.k.a. Son In Lawlessness, run into the woods. Gaines and FauxYork step over some presumably dead bodies and head towards the woods with a half a dozen TerrorMinions in tow. Why any of the TerrorMinions are still hanging around is a complete mystery to me. They don't look like they believe in some afterlife complete with willing virgins and a 24/7 open bar is awaiting them for the killing of Kiefer. I mean, as I've mentioned in previous recaps, I've held onto some crap jobs, but when stuff is blowing up around the office and my co-workers are flying through the air, it just might be a good time to get the fuck out of there. Not to mention the fact that it doesn't look like your final paycheck is going to arrive in your mailbox anytime soon, and it's not like you're going to be able to complain to the California Labor Board about it. But then, maybe that's my problem. Maybe I just don't believe in professionalism enough to risk my life for a cause, and these TerrorMinions are America's real heroes. Nevertheless, Gaines tells AsianTerrorMinion to "cut them off at the service road," and commands the other TerrorMinions to go into the woods to find the KieferKlan. Then he jams the butt of his automatic rifle into the abdomen of FauxYork -- or as we are now calling him on the forums, PiñataYork (tm kittykat). Like, way to boost employee morale, Gaines!
And now, since so many of you have emailed me to tell how much you liked my workplace stories, I think I'll tell another story about my tenure at Bad Television Documentary Company. You know, the place I mentioned in my last recap where I worked, was fired, and then they wouldn't let me go home? When I first started working at BTDC, I reported directly to a man I affectionately refer to as PsychoFlanders. He physically looked like Ned Flanders from The Simpsons, and he often tried to fashion himself as a comfy lovable boss, complete with Cosby sweaters and a perpetual aw-shucks bewildered look on his face, but PsychoFlanders had issues involving, well, anger management. He was my boss because he was no longer welcome at CBS after he threw a chair at one of his co-workers. Furthermore, and I'm not entirely sure about this, but the word on the street was that the chair in question was an Emeco Naval Chair -- an important detail, because these chairs are quite heavy. Amazing how it all comes together on some level, right? And might I point out at this point that the Emeco Naval Chair is also the chair of choice at another dysfunctional work environment I had the pleasure of experiencing -- that of the Silvery-Haired Has-Been Designer's Atelier. Not that anyone threw one at me, but…well, I'll go into it in another recap.
So anyway, I walk into work one day -- I worked from 4 PM to midnight, because there was so little equipment in this production company that I was literally unable to do my job until everyone else went home -- and I notice that there is a brown stain on the wall of my office. Okay, it wasn't exactly an office, it was more of a dark, dusty, windowless room where all of my pertinent equipment was kept. There was many a workday where I would go into my "office" just to cry, because I knew that the big machines I had to use intimidated everyone else and therefore I could be guaranteed a degree of privacy not found in the other, more glamorous rooms. I don't exactly think anything of this brown stain because, quite frankly, it wasn't unusual to find, say, a syringe or a glassine envelope with a layer of powdery residue inside lying around the office. I'm not trying to portray my television career as glamorous or anything; I am simply pointing out that working for BTDC was such a painful experience that some of my co-workers needed an anesthesia of some sort to function. So Jacob, my "other boss," walks into my "office" and points at the brown stain on the wall. Now at this point, I have such a case of Stockholm syndrome from working there that I am convinced the brown stain is my fault, even though I know it's not. I begin to apologize for the brown stain but Jacob cuts me off. Apparently, Jacob was working on something, but PsychoFlanders had just been given the heads-up by ShortFatTVBoss that Jacob's project was unnecessary. So instead of, say, tapping Jacob on the shoulder and informing him that the project in question was no longer required, PsychoFlanders comes into my "office" with his morning cup of hot chocolate and punches Jacob in the face with his free hand in order to get him to stop working on said project. Jacob, who has anger management issues of his own, punches PsychoFlanders back, and PsychoFlanders's hot chocolate goes flying into the wall and leaves a stain. I then spend the rest of the afternoon playing therapist to Jacob, who felt guilty for punching PsychoFlanders even though it was in self-defense. After I had sufficiently calmed Jacob down, he ordered me to clean the stain off the wall. I'd like to say that I quit my job right then and there, but I was only able to leave that office eight months later when they, uh, fired me. Wait, this story isn't entertaining at all. Why am I telling it? Oh, never mind.