All Right, People…

Where the hell did you hide my wallet?

Well?

76 Comments on “All Right, People…”

  1. Stephen Wright said he lost his socks, so he called information. The lady said “they’re behind the couch,” and they were. Did you try calling information?

  2. Man, if I’ve seen your wallet lately, we’ve got problems.

    On the other hand, the locals will probably sell it back to you for cheap.

  3. … well? Did it work or not? Did it magically appear before your eyes the moment you posted?

    If not, maybe you should check the doggie in the window. It might’ve been visiting with ulterior motives after all.

  4. Damn humans are always blaming me for stealing their wallets. LISTEN, PUNY MORTAL: I’VE GOT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO THAN GO THROUGH YOUR GRUBBY CREDIT CARDS! Next one who blames me for stupid crap, his soul gets taken like that! SNAP!

    Look, you guys need to spend more time worshipping me, and less time yakking on the internet.

    Cthulhu / Cheney in 2008

  5. I buried it on a deserted isle, and slew the men who rowed me ashore and laid their bodies on top. Then I made a map with suitably obscure markings, corked it in a bottle, and tossed the whole rigamarole into the sea where it was found by a shipwrecked mariner, and a seagull. The mariner ate the gull, by the way, so he’s the only one, other than me, who knows where your wallet is. I’m pretty certain said mariner can be found at latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West, and if you ask him politely, perhaps he’ll hand over the bottle.

  6. I have hidden
    the wallet
    that was in
    the Scalzi-stead

    and the credit cards
    you were probably
    planning
    to use

    Forgive me
    they were tempting
    so shiny
    and accepted everywhere I want to be

  7. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, father of pangolins

    Someplace warm, sticky and sweet.

    It is nowhere near me as I post, though.

    I smell Ebay fun!

  8. It’s in the pocket of the sweat pants you wore when you drove out for a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts yesterday morning. Check the laundry basket.

  9. Your traitor wallet was extraordinarily renditioned to an undisclosed location in an undisclosed country, there to be “interrogated” until it tells everything it knows.

    You might be next. It’s up to the decider to decide.

  10. Was it one of those three panel folding wallets? Because if you folded it with the ID panel first it is probably in tesseract space right now.

    It’s why I use a billfold.

    Sorry, but at least you don’t have to worry about canceling your credit cards.

  11. Cassie, pointing at Steve B,

    What? I didn’t do anything. (trys to look innocent, realizes it’s too long gone)

    Wallet? What wallet. (makes sure John’s not looking)

    Drinks for everybody!

    But on a serious note, I think it ran off with Toby’s wallet. After all, his was slim and young.

  12. Wait a sec. Just what do you need your wallet for at midnight, John? I mean, I know rural Ohio, where they roll up the sidewalks precisely at 6. Just what are you paying for at that hour?

  13. What to Know Before You Ask Me to Find Your (Unlocated) Wallet.

    I’m often asked, by people I’ve never met, if I can locate their missing wallets. There are a number of reasons I decline this invitation.

    My rate for finding wallets begins at $125/hr. Since you don’t have a wallet, the odds of me collecting my fee are slim.

    This is the only excuse you need to hear.

  14. Steve Buchheit:

    Wait a sec. Just what do you need your wallet for at midnight, John? I mean, I know rural Ohio, where they roll up the sidewalks precisely at 6. Just what are you paying for at that hour?

    Ahem. “Tickles.” John was paying for… “tickles.”

  15. The blue construction workers misplaced it when they were working on 11:37. Ask the yellow guy, he might get it for you, but he probably won’t let you back into the time stream.

  16. You didn’t lose the wallet. You just, um, haven’t found it yet.

    Anybody who disagrees with this obviously just wants the wallet to be lost. Traitors!

  17. *tries her untamed powers*

    Upon your arrival home, you were ready to put it in your usual spot upon your dresser, when you got distracted by the thought of a snack. Opening the refridgerator, you set it down next to the bacon as you reached for the Dr. Pepper and the last of the canolis your wife bought at the quaint little Italian bakery that would receive more business if more people knew about it.

    It’s in the fridge. Trust me.

    :)

  18. tekst źródłowyNeptune Square Sun: Confusion and uncertainty about direction of your life. Circumstances force questioning of previous goals. …
    astrolog.offline.ee/astrolog/texts/transits.txt – 92k – Cached – Similar pages

    Aquarian Digest: December 2004If you’’re looking for a quick read of what your Neptune square Sun might mean, this book is not for you. If you want the best researched and inspirational …
    aquariandigest.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_aquariandigest_archive.html – 98k – Cached – Similar pages

    Psychological vs.Predictive AstrologyWhether he stays or leaves, a core theme in his life will be Neptune square Sun – potential illusion, confusion, and disillusionment; there may be hardship, …
    http://www.spiritual.com.au/articles/astrology/psychastrology_gperry.htm – 64k – Cached – Similar pages

    etc. Now you know!
    :)

  19. Flavorful Chang, “Tickles”? Okay, if that’s what you kids are calling it today.

    Or are you saying John was going for the lifesized Tickle Me Elmo?

  20. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, father of pangolins

    Buccheit,

    I’m sticking with “tickles.”

  21. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, father of pangolins

    Yeah, sorry I got nothing. Scalzi’s visa won’t buy you much these days.

  22. Gazing deeply into my crystal ball, I confidently predict: If you clean your office, and organize the papers for a change, the wallet will magically appear. Plus, your wife can stop yelling at you about it…..

  23. You know, I like CJ’s answer. Even if it doesn’t solve the problem of the lost wallet it solves the problem of the wife yelling at you. Well, about the desk clutter at least.

  24. amandageddon – She is a slacker of the highest order, a geek of not so much, went back to school to become an even bigger geek and possibly get paid for it. She loves it when a plan comes together.
    Amanda

    Sorry, I had a craving for post-hockey pizza and don’t get paid until Friday. I’ll pay you back, honest!

  25. I’m sorry. I have currently lost integration with your SmartWallet™.
    Please re-integrate at your earliest convenience.

  26. How to find almost anything:

    1. Give up looking for it.
    2. It will be in the next place you look.
    3. If this doesn’t work, try again.

  27. I warned you about my voices. I told you they were powerful. You didn’t believe me! You didn’t give me the book! They spoke to someone in Ohio, and now you must pay! Next time maybe you will believe me. Maybe.

  28. The answer is in this month’s Wired. Oh, sorry — that’s where your keys are.

  29. The pirates have it. They are using it to foil your ninja plans.

    (On the bright side, no one has mentioned head licking)

  30. Based on the way things go missing in my house, I’d say it’s on the edge of a bookshelf, lying coyly on top of a book TBR whose cover perfectly matches the color of the wallet. From what I know of your house, that should narrow the search down to about 2000 places, yes?

Exit mobile version
%%footer%%