THE CURSE OF THE PINK PIKER
As if things weren't going downhill fast enough for Piker, an avalanche of bad luck has come cascading down the proverbial mountain. The first sign that it was going to be one of those days appeared this morning when I showed up here at Piker headquarters to find that the lock had been jimmied and the door was unlocked. The only piece of furniture remaining in the office space before the break-in was my crappy faux-wood desk. Now there is nothing. Why someone would want to steal my desk is beyond me, but it happened, and I had to deal with the reality. The only thing of any debatable value in the desk was the Piker Files. They too are now gone. Thank God for the Piker archives.
Feeling victimized and at the end of my proverbial rope, which was the only thing keeping me on the proverbial mountain, I thought I was headed for a complete meltdown. But once I stopped hyperventilating and bawling, I was just happy to have my breath back. Standing in the middle of the desolate office, I decided right there and then that I was going to take advantage of the fact that I could still breathe by meditating my ass off. I sat down on the floor and attempted to get into the lotus position until I came to the painful realization that the surgically reconstructed ACL in my right knee was not going to cooperate. So I sat Indian style and concentrated on my breathing, tuning out the world until I successfully reached the Alpha state. My mind, body, and spirit were at peace. No longer did I feel stress over the monumental collapse of my prized publication. No longer did I feel violated by the vicious vandals who ripped me off. I had found serenity. Just then, a small boulder came flying through one of the large Piker windows and shattered the glass into thousands of pieces. Somehow, namely the heightened spiritual state I was in at the time, I found myself unharmed. It was as if the Universe had placed a protective forcefield around me. I picked up the large stone and read the words "Piker Go Home" in black magic marker. Another sign.
As we all know, good things and bad things, mainly bad things, come in threes. Although I didn't need yet another sign to motivate me to get the hell out of the Piker offices and never return, I got one anyway. After reading those haunting words on that rock for the hundred thousandth time, I had an urge to check the Piker bank balance. I used my cell phone to call the fine automated folks at Washington Mutual and after punching in a complex set of account numbers, passwords, and the last four digits of my social security number, I got the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's proverbial back -- Piker was out of money. The account wasn't even in the negative; the balance was simply zero dollars and zero cents.
Now, the handful of you that are reading this are probably thinking that this is the end of Piker. I can assure you it is not. I am going to use these heinous events as motivation to take this blog to new heights. I know I keep saying that, but really, I am. As I was sobbing in the elevator on the way down to the parking garage, before I remembered that I don't have a car, I had one of those revelatory moments that reminded me of all the good things in my life. I can't recall what they are at the moment, but trust me, they're good. And they gave me the fortitude to carry on. So despite the best efforts of some unseen cabal hell-bent on annhilating me and everything I stand for, Piker lives on! Long live Piker! Long live Piker!