“Hey, it’ll be great, you’ll be Alf today! It’ll be hilarious! What could possibly go wrong?”
I jumped right into that little game my friend Skeeball had come up with. Head first, without looking.
The rules were simple: I would pretend to be the fictional TV alien life form from the planet Melmac all day long. No breaking character. NO MATTER WHAT.
At first, my coworkers expressed mild amusement, which was quickly followed by annoyance and then finally, angry frustration. Whatever. They need to learn how to chillax.
Skeeball had brought a stray cat from the alley up to the office, setting it loose to watch me chase it around, claiming I was going to eat it. You see, because that’s what Alf did. On the show. Get it?
Anyway, around 3 PM is when everything started to go to shit. I had just been chewed out by my supervisor, Linda, for having an unprofessional attitude towards work.
It was mere formality, when your father owns the company, you know you’re not going to get fired. Not for pretending to be Alf, anyway. But more on that, later.
She was right, of course. I did have a big stack of requests sitting on my desk from patients all over the country, waiting on my approval for their life-saving surgeries, but then again, there was never really an episode that explicitly stated that Alf would know how to do that kind of thing… so…
Anyway, Linda goes back to her work and I’m sitting around in the break room, brainstorming funny things for Alf to do to his co-workers when Jerry from accounting comes in and grabs a stale bagel and starts absentmindedly chewing on it while he talks on his cell phone to someone about some insurance company gibberish (remember, I’m Alf, so I don’t know what any of that stuff means, so it sounds like gibberish to me, Alf.)
Me and Skeeball are so into our Alf pranks, we don’t even realize the guy’s been choking for at least a minute or so. Skeeball panics, he doesn’t know what to do, because he didn’t attend the mandatory CPR thing we were all supposed to attend.
Fortuntaely, I did.
Unfortunately, “Alf” did not.
Not only that, but I imagined that Alf’s fingers are too furry to dial 911, but even if they weren’t, the emergency number on Melmac is 58?3P1@1 (Me and Skeeball came up with that one on our own.)
So Jerry died, but even worse, I finally did have to break character when the cops came to investigate, so it ended up being all for nothing.
No wait, the worst part is, my dad ended up firing me because he said he was sick of me and my loser friends screwing everything up all the time. He said we had generated enough bad press for him.
Well, I guess that’s not the worst part, because now I get the same salary to stay home and make sure there aren’t too many leaves in the pool. I have a net on the end of a long pole and if there are too many leaves in there when my dad comes home from work, I get in trouble.
But, as I explained to him yesterday, I’m now C3P0 in that part of The Empire Strikes Back where he’s all in pieces and has to be carried around on Chewbacca’s back, so I can’t use the pole right now. Also, he says I’m not supposed to make Consuela carry me around like that, because she’s sixty and she has a bad back. Personally, I think she should probably be fired and replaced with someone who can do the job right, but I guess that’s why I’m only the Pool Leaf Collection Assistant and not the Manager.