I was nodding off to a good sleep pilfered from opiates bought on the street when I heard music and commotion from upstairs. Seeing what I'd seen yesterday, I dared not go up there for a look, but I went outside. I recorded what I saw from the street:

I ran back into the web department (duties must not be shrugged), and locked myself inside. Co-workers will return in a few hours, and all will become normal again.

Now that I have dispelled the mystery of the crow's nest evil forces, let us return to some serious business.

Items: One Super Size bottle of 21st Century Extra Strength D-1000 dietary supplement; one travel size bottle of Molton Brown White Mulberry Fine Hand Soap; one partially consumed 7.5 Ounce can of Relentless™ energy drink:

I can't believe it's been two weeks.

After gaining entrance to the Keck's office last night, then thinking better of exploring the crow's nest in the dark, I downed seven Alprazolam and still slept an uneasy sleep in the web office. After posting this morning's news, I downed some more sedatives and finished off Anthony's Jameson 12 Year before heading to Tim's office. Upon opening the door, I heard some scuffling and grunting from the crow's nest and then, after a minute, silence. I waited for a few minutes, pulled the last drink of whiskey from the bottle, and climbed the rickety spiral staircase up into the crow's nest. At the top of the window was a most baffling scene, but the first thing I noticed was a window open just enough for someone to climb in and out of it.

An inventory, with pictures, after the jump:

Continue reading »

After a visit to a very understanding doctor at an urgent care facility, I procured a lovely bottle of Alprazolam for alcohol withdrawals and returned with some tools and a flashlight and set to work on Keck's lock. After quietly picking the knob and two deadbolts, an auxiliary bolt from the top of the door into a latch at the top of the door frame still stopped the door. I unlatched it by sliding my thinnest, sharpest chisel into the space between the top of the door and the bottom of the door frame. Jabbing the sharp corner into the back of the flat bar, I slowly and silently pried it down fractions of an inch at a time. When the work was done, I stealthily turned the knob and delicately pushed opened the door. I peered into the room and turned my gaze upward to the crow's nest entrance. Suddenly I thought I heard a sound from the top of the spiral stairs leading to the nest. Was it a latent hallucination? Was someone lurking up there? It was pitch black to my sight even halfway up the stars, and near pitch black in the hallway where I stood. I closed the door without a sound and returned to lock myself in the web office. I will investigate in the light of the morning. Co-workers are still two days away. For now, goodnight.

After a 72-hour drunk, during which I subsisted on nothing but sherry, vodka, bourbon, Relentless™ energy drink, and baby carrots, I awoke under my desk only to find some most perplexing developments. First item, at my desk:

Second, someone has posted a jumble of nonsense from my account.

Third, walking amongst the empty bottles and refuse strewn about the hallways, I have discovered that the dolls are multiplying:

This one, perched above Charles's nest:

This dead one in editorial:

Hiding amidst my dwindling supply of Relentless™, with some mark on its face:

Hiding in the shadows of the eerie, amatuerish busts at the base of the stairs to production:

And finally, this one, beheaded, standing directly in front of the door to Tim Keck's office:

I now know what I must do.

UPDATE: I'm off to the locksmith directly after I dive into Anthony's bottle of Jameson 12 Year and get rid of these cobwebs in my head.

While returning from the liquor store (which is one block away, so I am not, as some would accuse, shirking my duties) with a fresh bottle of sherry, I noticed this:

• The spaceman is speaking to me

I rushed into editorial to tell Paul, as I was sure I'd seen and heard him earlier in the day, but he was no where to be found. I have now locked myself in the web department to drink away the delirium tremens and their wicked side effects.

After my unsuccessful attempt to break into Keck's office last night, I roamed the hallways finishing the bottle of bourbon I'd unsuccessfully attempted to finish night before last. When that went dry, I started into a bottle of Crown Czar vodka mixed with Relentless™ energy drink, which eventually sent me into hyperglycemic coma from which I only awoke minutes ago. Today I have resolved to consult a locksmith and resume my efforts to gain entry to the Crow's Nest. In the meantime, please enjoy this edition of Guess Whose Desk!™

Item: Ancient 1/4-inch cassette handheld recorder. Please note broken play button (How would one accurately transcribe interviews?) and the contents (one copy of Judy Bridgewater's Songs After Dark).

Later today I will attempt to break into Tim Keck's office, which gives access to the Crow's Nest, where Keck is sure to have all manner of contraband stockpiled in preparation for what he continually refers to as "the impending apocalypse." I will report on my discoveries.

UPDATE: I have picked more than one lock in my time, but tonight I was electrocuted at least once during my attempts. I have no source of light other than a cell phone, and my tools have proved inadequate. Tomorrow I will venture out of the office to visit a locksmith and resume undaunted.

It's still pleasantly quiet here, although the sound of the downstairs door closing woke me to a nearly finished bottle of bourbon and my head on page four Canterbury Tales. My curiosity has not yet driven me to begin rifling through colleagues' desk drawers. In the meantime, please enjoy these photos of an empty office:

• The news department.

• The sales department (Third floor).

• Some guy's desk.

• The web department.

• Empty hallway with beer can.

Everyone is finally gone for a week, and I am just now settling down into a bottle of bourbon and the several hundred e-mails that occupy my "to do" folder. The office is pleasantly quiet, and a calm has taken over me. Just like last year, Tim Keck has promised some sort of bonus on top of state minimum wage if I stay around the office over the break and make sure that "identity thieves don't infiltrate our mainframe." (Last year, it was to see that "the internet tubes don't overheat.") Since Keck does not know how to locate the blogs or even "log on to the internet," I don't mind telling you all that his paranoia is slowly compiling. I am looking forward to catching up on my reading and some long-overdue projects. Happy holidays to all.