A Notice to the Manager of Ultramare
or
What’s the real message here?
by Damien Hunt

Ultramare Employee Notebook - July 9th

So then of course, just to make my night perfect, the walls began to bleed! Now, I am no stranger to supernatural phenomena, but I figured that if the ghost of pumps one and two wanted to really scare me, the blood would not have been a psychedelic neon color like radioactive neopolitan ice cream on a hot summer day.

So the logical conclusion, if the thought patterns in my mind at this particular moment as the walls continued to pump out blood in rhythm to Disco Inferno could be considered “logical,” was Drugs! Oh and for arguments sake, as well as my own, and for the thrill of it, let us maintain that theory of logical thought. Much more fun!

Where was I? Oh right, DRUGS! I must say that at first I didn’t believe him when Jeremy (who’s name escapes me at the moment but he is the one who thinks that smoking pot is a sin) told me that my share of the staff crack supply was hidden in the oatmeal raison cookie doe.

Doe? Dough? D’oh! But I chose to believe him because, 1. Nobody eats that crap and 2. It was in his best interest to be honest since he was surrounded by four knife wielding black M&M assassins.

Love those black M&M’s, Evil Bastards they are. No wonder Yellow Peanut rules the world, there isn’t much you can do against a Black Op M&M Ninja Assassin, accept eat em. But they taste so awful. Megan (who’s name escapes me at the moment, but she is the one going out with Cheese Pep Boy) knows what I am talking about. M&M’s are dangerous!

Wait! Did I just write that out loud? Or did I write that in my mind? I hope not, blue ink may be a bitch to clean off of a brain, but I would rather spend an hour with three cue-tips up my nose than end up joining Jeremy’s body in an eternal dirt nap.

Hmmm... I wonder if anyone will notice the sudden discrepancy in the dip readings. Seemed a good place as any to hide a body at the time, but perhaps I was wrong. That perceptive Whitey (who’s name escapes me at the moment, but he is the stinky foul smelling rogue) will probably notice. I guess the black M&M’s will have another contract tomorrow, after I tell Whitey to reschedule Jeremy’s hours.

Ouch! After consuming two dozen frozen chunks of crack laced oatmeal raison (did I mention how much I loath raisons!) cookie dough, my tummy was hurting! And the neon disco blood was starting to burn holes through my eyes! AND I AM COLD! The kind of cold that makes your nipples feel hard enough to cut glass! And...

Hold up! Crack doesn’t cause hallucinations does it? Acid does that! Right? So if it is not supernatural tomfoolery or mind altering drugs, why are the walls still bleeding a technicolor rainbow?

As I snap the seventh icicle of snot from my nose and seek the warmth of a sweater in the middle of summer I think I have finally found my answer.

IT IS TOO DAMNED COLD!

July and Frostbite are two words that should never have to be used in the same sentence.

So, if I may, before I loose all my fingers and cannot write anymore, please Vanessa (who’s name escapes me at the moment, but she is the one with the spiffy new uniform and loves to be addressed as “Boss”) can you see that the air conditioning is turned down at night. I wouldn’t complain, but Lucifer (who’s name escapes me at the moment, but he is thatred horned devil with a pitchfork, tail and big pointy teeth!) just stopped by to bitch at me cause hell is freezing over!

I betcha it was him who made the walls bleed! Tune!

- Justin Killam, Employee #8756384-6 (who’s name escapes me at the moment, but he is the one with method to his madness)

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