Slack Slacker and the Zika Experiment
Although every effort is made to keep our audience up to speed on what's happening in the world, every now and then, Sh*t Happens. And when it does, it's generally on a Friday. Let us explain.
Our top hack writer, Slack Slacker, was to podcast the CDC's latest Zika vaccine test results of individuals who'd volunteered for a really, really, "secret" experiment. Unfortunately, Slack didn't show up for work today. Worried, the office manager called his cell number, and the only thing our favorite Slacker was able to babble was this most incredulous tale.
Slack said he'd stopped off at his favorite Tequila joint on the Upper West Side last night to gather more info on this latest pandemic. Hooking up with his boy Slim Slimy, the two ended up throwing back a few shots, then a few cold beers and then a few more shots, until damn near closing time. The evening wasn't supposed to go that way, but it's difficult to tear yourself away whenever Floozie Suzy is dancing on Thursdays. The evening didn't go as planned.
Slack and Slim had drunk themselves into oblivion and were flipping a coin to see who'd be charged with DUI by the NYPD when they noticed they were the only ones left in the spot. The music was blaring, but Floozie was gone. There were drinks on the bar, but the bartender was nowhere to be found. Slack and Slim, sensing opportunity, began pouring more free shots while Slim started emptying the cash register. Don't judge; they were drunk.
It was only after they'd finished off all the chips and salsa they could find that Slack and Slim noticed three tall strangers in lab coats standing in the darkest corner of the room. They couldn't be cops because they'd have been busted Slim and Slack as soon as Slim started robbing the joint. The three strangers kept staring at the two inebriates while whispering amongst themselves. What do they want, Slack, slurred under his breath? Let's ask, Slim slurred aloud. Yo! What's up eggheads? We're wondering if you'd like to earn enough money to pay your tab for tonight, said one of the tall strangers.
Knowing these creeps had witnessed the two drinking buddies practically looting the place, Slack and Slim sobered up quick enough to consider almost any proposition. We're conducting research on the Zika Virus. We need volunteers to participate in a blind study to develop a vaccine to fight this terrible infectious disease, they said. You'll be given a placebo since you two "gentlemen" seem like nice chaps. We just need two more volunteers for statistical purposes.
They assured the potential subjects that the Zika virus' most common symptoms are fever, rash, joint pain, and conjunctivitis (red eyes). The illness is usually mild, with symptoms lasting several days to a week. When Slim reminded Slack they'd both gotten that and worse from getting too cozy with Floozie Suzy and drinking cheap Tequila, Slack was sold. Once satisfied, one of the tall strangers said they wouldn't feel anything, just sign "gentlemen" right here.
From that moment on, everything went black. The last thing Slack remembered was a violent argument with Slim over who'd go first. With a dry mouth and a terrible urge to take a wizz, Slack pulled himself off the bar's floor and staggered into the men's room. When he was finally able to focus his eyes, Slack was horrified. There were ten, maybe twelve guys with teeny weeny heads piled up against the back wall. Some were drooling. Others were drooling and glassy-eyed. While still others were drooling, glassy-eyed, and mumbling incoherently. The smaller the head, the more issues they had.
Frantically, Slack started sorting through the pyramid of retards to see if Slim was among them, but he wasn't. He tried questioning those with the biggest teeny weeny heads for answers. But even though the not-so-teeny heads retained the power of speech, there was so much drool that Slack kept slipping and sliding in their drippings.
Unable to keep sloshing in the conversation, Slack "claims" he broke the lock on the emergency door leading to the alley out back, seeking clues. Again, finding nothing but more guys with teeny tiny heads stumbling around in the dark, it looked like he'd found himself at a Bettlejuice family reunion. When Slack saw the three tall strangers in lab coats speeding away in a black SUV with government tags, he could sense something was very wrong.
Slack was beside himself now. Had all of New York been taken over by teeny weeny heads? Were there any normal-sized heads left in the world? At this point, Slim was on his own because Slack was desperate. He needed to know what was happening but couldn't think straight. And of any ideas that came to mind, few amount to much. Terrified, Slack ran back through the bar's back door into the men's room and was stunned when he accidentally glimpsed himself in the mirror. All he could say was, OMG! WTF? I can't go to work looking like this. Thank God it's Friday!
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