Junior Mysteries

Stop crying, you big babies; Daddy's back. As you may've surmised, I didn't have Internet access on my trip to California last week. Actually, internet access was a possibility, but I couldn't swing it because I didn't bring my modem. Yeah, I'm talking modems. The entire hotel was kind of antiquated like that. There was no toilet in my room, just a bed pan. We were relayed from the airport in a cart pulled by a donkey. Also, the guy across the hall from me got boiled in a cauldron because the manager thought he was a wizard. Aside from the whole modem fiasco, I had a nice enough time.

Since I was all alone, with no Internet, millions of miles from my home, I had plenty of time to think. As usual, my thoughts turned to vending machines. The question that plagued me was why the vending machines weren't more expensive in California. Everything else there was 3 times more expensive than it'd be in Texas: housing, gas, food, prostitutes, you name it. For some reason, though, Junior Mints were still $.65. I just couldn't wrap my mind around that. Were they fake Junior Mints in the California vending machine? Was someone getting some kick-backs from the Junior Mint money collected in Texas? Was all of this somehow related to OPEC? Only the truth could soothe my troubled soul.

As one would expect, I made this mystery the top priority of my trip. I cancelled all work-related activities, telling them I'd had a recurrence of German measles and if anyone needed me, I'd be swaddled in a blanket in my hotel room, praying for a hasty demise. I procured the floor plans of the Junior Mint factory, a grapping hook, and some napalm, and I got ready to do a little sleuthing. Sparing everyone a lot of unnecessary details, it was not a complete success, which is to say that next time, I'll be shot on sight at the Junior Mints facility. You can take my nightvision goggles, burly security guard, but you cannot take my thirst for the truth.

But anyway, once I got that out of the way, I had a nice enough trip.