Recently I’ve been having a dilemma with this woman I work with. We have a very close relationship, you could even say we work as partners, but it is a strange relationship nonetheless. We frequently work on projects together, and we both have our areas of expertise. I tend to be the more imaginative of the two of us, coming up with creative and often unconventional solutions to problems, while she takes a hard-edged scientific approach to life.
The result is a rather frustrating combination, where she constantly shoots down my theories in favor of the more rational solution. Last weekend, for example, we were working on this file that had something to do with unexpected cattle deaths in Stevens County—I’m afraid revealing more would allow our competitors to gain an advantage. I noticed that one of the cows had its shoelaces untied, and immediately assumed it to be the work of vampires. She, being more scientific, thought it the work of satanists simply emulating vampirism. Still, I can’t change the way I feel about her. Tell me, is it possible for two such different people to get along in a romantic partnership when their professional partnership is so rocky?
I know how you feel. I had a similar experience a few weeks ago when discussing the recent attempt to assassinate Bill Gates, chairman and CEO of Microsoft Corp. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly an assassination attempt, but it was certainly an attempt to destroy the mega-ego of the world’s richest nerd. If you still don’t know what I’m talking about, a few weeks ago Mr. Gates was on his way to a meeting somewhere in Europe, when he was hit in the face by a cream pie.
It was reported in the news, and is believed by a large portion of the Windows-using world, that the attack on Mr. Gates was isolated—the act of a lone, crazed, paranoid pie-thrower. However, I believe this story to be a cover-up for a much larger plot, possibly organized by high-ranking officials at Apple Computer, the Department of Justice, and the Resident Advisors in Spooner Hall. As I will show, unequivocally, there is no way that this assault could have been perpetrated by a lone pie-thrower.
When one looks at a videotaped dramatization of the choppy newsreel footage of the incident which has been painstakingly assembled—from speculations on what eye witnesses might have seen on that fateful day—by the technicians at Media Services, with actors portraying the parties involved drawn from the Theatre department, some very interesting observations can be made.
The tape begins with Mr. Gates (portrayed by Jamie Gappa) walking hand-in-hand with an unidentified Microsoft henchman (portrayed by Alex Barrett) down a long, red-carpeted aisle lined with news reporters and flashing cameras. Bill’s wife is currently out of site, walking several feet behind. Suddenly, without warning, a mysterious figure appears in front of the camera (portrayed by Chris Roufs) and hurls a cream pie at Mr. Gates’ head. The camera jerks, and the next few moments are very fuzzy, but when it is refocused, both Mr. Gates, his henchman, and Mrs. Gates (portrayed by Sarah Jo Wojciechowski) are covered in whipped cream and a delightfully flaky graham-cracker crust.
The official report would have us believe that Jerry Lee Osmond acted alone in his pie throwing. However, this would have to be one magic cream pie, to have splattered whipped cream in the places it did. In fact, the pie, upon leaving Osmond’s hand would have to have sailed towards Mr. Gates’ head, doing a loopty-loop in mid-air, and then hit his head. From there, whipping cream would have had to spray off his face, ricochet off his oversized glasses, hover in mid air for 42 nanoseconds, dance the Macarena, and then make a sharp left turn, in order to splatter on the tie of Mr. Gates henchman. After hitting the henchman’s tie, this magic whipping cream would have had to drip to the floor, mold itself into a rough approximation of the Pillsbury Dough Boy, and run giggling back to Mrs. Gates. When the Whipping Cream Boy arrived at Mrs. Gates’ feet, he would have had to then stick his thumb in his mouth and blow so hard that he exploded, splashing the gooey fragments of his body all over her sequined dress. Again, that’s one fancy pie.
I can only judge from this irrefutable evidence that there must have been a second pie-thrower, perhaps on the grassy knoll next to the elevator in Microsoft’s Belgium office. The friend I was talking to thought my theory was a load of crap. We’re not in a romantic relationship. That probably answers your question well enough.