The Brief, Tragic Life Of A Cracked Intern
First Challenge: Image LocationThere was a long moment of silence as the interns looked about awkwardly. “Begin what?” Wheeler ventured. “The first contest! Cracked interns are frequently asked to find images for our understated yet brilliant columns. So your first challenge is: Find me the craziest photo of Gary Busey in existence. You have five minutes.” There was a flurry of abs, and the soft bouncing of breasts as Meyers and Wheeler burst into motion. Stowalski just sat down at a computer like the retarded bastard that he was. Five minutes later, I examined the first results. Stowalski “This is rather disappointing, Stowalski. Sure, it’s crazy, but it’s a little obvious, don’t you think? If there’s one value that Cracked embodies, it is the subtle, understated grace of a billion swans making sweet love to heavily sedated ballerinas.” Stowalski took it pretty hard, just like his mom does every night. “FROM MY DICK,” I added triumphantly. It mattered little that I didn’t speak the setup to that joke aloud; I could see he was impressed by my wit from the fleeting terror in his eyes as I swung my hammer around in celebration.
First Round Goes To: Wheeler
Second Challenge: Research Skills“The second contest! Cracked interns will frequently have to research some disturbing, horrifying material as fodder for the shining brilliance of our articles. Find me…the best examples of Quantum Leap Slash Fiction on the Internet!” As they hurried at their tasks, I passed the five minutes by drumming "Another One Bites The Dust" on Stowalski’s head. I hope the subtle foreshadowing was not lost on him. Wheeler Sam rose from the couch and approached me with a positively predatory look on his face. "Now that's the Admiral I know and love. I figured it out after the leap into that bar. I just had to get back to the beginning. If I could fix the retrieval program from the beginning, then I could trigger it myself when I was ready to come home. And, Al, I'm really ready to be home."
“Wonderful, Wheeler! The sensuality, the emotion, the inclusion of Ziggy – this is everything bizarre gay fan-porn regarding a seminal 80s science fiction series should be!” I showed my appreciation by kicking over her desk; women love a forceful man, I am told. Meyers Al liked to love Sam most in the quiet hours of the morning, just before dawn crept over the skies. In those moments of peace, every touch of Al's hand and movement of his body loosed a symphony from Sam's skin. Sam's body held a richness of history, of experience, of unrivaled intelligence and profound love and loss. It was more than words, more than music, more than any image or thought. It was the very element of Sam, basic and abstract at the same time.
“Good, Meyers,” I said, trying to hide the tears spilling down my face, “but perhaps a little too good. We don’t want the reader to start thinking there are better writers than us out there - writers capable of treating the love that blossoms between a hologram and a man displaced in time with such simple beauty as this.” Stowalski A breeze whispered through the apartment, filling it with the scent of salt water and romance. Sam didn't know who he was, but recognized the man who pulled him onto his lap: Stephen Baldwin. Like all the brothers, he was handsome with an infectious grin. He rubbed Sam's stomach, licked his face. "I could just eat you up…" Suddenly, his fingernails dug into Sam's belly, breaking the skin, as his teeth shredded the flesh of Sam's cheek.
“Stowalski, you…you weary me, Stowalski. You make me so very, very tired,” I said, “this is just too horrible. My nightmares will be rivaled only by the disturbing, unceasing erections that will plague me from this day on. You are truly the King of sons of bitches.”
The Second Round Goes To: Wheeler
Third Challenge: Photoshop Prowess“Now the final contest! Though our Photoshop skills are legendary, we writers are frequently overcome by the awesome sex-cocaine parties that we all totally have all the time,” I said, gesturing to the cocoa powder I had ingeniously left all over my desk as evidence, “we don’t always have time to Photoshop, so sometimes you’ll have to do it for us. For your last challenge: Bring me a Photoshop of famous inventor Nikola Tesla spliced with a bear!” As they sprang into motion, I took the opportunity to practice the killing blow by swinging my hammer repeatedly just inches from Stowalski’s face. I wondered if he got the hint. Wheeler “Masterful, Wheeler! The cuteness offsets the deadly danger inherent to the Tesla Bear. It sets our hearts aflutter, as it cramps our balls with terror. Truly great,” I went to give her a congratulatory buttock rub, but reconsidered after she punched me half a dozen times in the crotch. Something told me this was just not the right time.
Final Round: Stowalski“Meyers, I’m sorry” I said, wiping the word ‘coy’ off my chest and quickly painting in ‘bloodrage.’ “I’m really distraught about this decision, and afterward I’m going to go out and get hammered to kill the pain. I just wanted to say I’m sorry once more; I hate to repeat myself, but I really wanted to hammer that point home. It’s just that Wheeler really nailed this contest, and Stowalski murdered you with a hammer in that final round,” I could tell he appreciated my dilemma by the way he cursed my name and fled for the door. *** Sometimes I miss those pearly white teeth, shining like a lighthouse in the fog, guiding me through the dense miasma of agony that is this mundane world. And it’s times like that when I take out the necklace I made from those teeth and rub them, and I think of Meyers.
Read more from Robert at his own website, I Fight Robots, because you're obviously a serious fan of the written word if you still want 'more reading' after slogging through that epic mess.
Scroll down for more content