.098 [Email (and Spam?)]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Narvin is now Nathan. Work-from-home computer nerd, creeper, and conspiracy theorist. He sends out mass emails a lot. He also spies on people with binoculars and goes through their trash at night looking for incriminating evidence of government and/or alien affiliations. He lives next to Buffy, across from Kay, and catty corner to the Hoffmans

Comments

[no_fastolfe]

TO: nat-alon@aliensonearth.net
FROM: lisa_allen@allentechsecurity.com

Mister Lonum,
I have asked you every Christmas for the past five years to refrain from sending these unnecessary emails. The community is not interested in your brand of conspiracy. I will also remind you that if you attempt to prove that I am a three-hundred year-old genetically engineered Atlantean again this year I will submit the restraining order that I had written last year.

Also *stop going through my trash*. I double-shred all of my correspondence to prevent identity theft. Nothing in there is useful to your brand of schizophrenia.

Lisa Allen
AllenTech Security Software, CEO

---[ORIGINAL MESSAGE DELETED BY lisa allen]---

[timesbureaucrat]

TO: lisa_allen@allentechsecurity.com
FROM: nat-alon@aliensonearth.net

Ms Allen,

I haven't been going through your trash. Maybe it's racoons.

Nathan A. Lonum
Programming Solutions
www.aliensonearth.net/contact

[Nathan, as he does every year, ignores all requests to stop spamming. THIS IS IMPORTANT INFORMATION. PEOPLE WILL THANK HIM WHEN THE ALIEN INVASION HAPPENS.

And her threats must mean he's getting close to uncovering proof of her secret. He smiles and plans to redouble his efforts. Quietly. He doesn't want to get pulled in by the police (again). Section 51 monitors police reports. Since her double shredded papers were no good (he'd spent a good month trying to reconstruct them without much success) he might have to try some personal surveillance.]

Like sands through the hourglass; these are the Robots of our lives

[no_fastolfe]

TO: nat-alon@aliensonearth.net
CC: ((Group:Neighbors2))
FROM: lisa_allen@allentechsecurity.com

I do want to warn all of my neighbors this year that there will be some light construction at my house. I have some contractors stopping by to put up security cameras and repair my damaged motion detector lighting.

Lisa Allen
AllenTech Security Software, CEO[Lisa Allen had not gotten where she was by making friends. She was cold and distant from her neighbors; her interior decorator came a week before she did and put up her beautiful Christmas decorations. She never touched or looked at them

[Spam]

[most_feared]

[The hell is that rattling in his garbage?

He knows it's too much to hope that it's just a raccoon. The Colonel gets up out of bed, throws on a flannel shirt and some jeans and a leather jacket, grabs a maglite and his hunting rifle, and goes outside to catch whatever the fuck it is going through his garbage.

He hopes it's the neighbor with the obsession with the Christmas lights. He can lie and say he thought it was a bear. Woops..]

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Nathan rummages through the bin, snatching up promising looking bits of paper and, after quick survey with his red flashlight, stuffs them in his backpack. A military officer moving in *right across the street from him* could not be coincidence. The military was on to him. They knew that he knew, and now they wanted to find a way to keep him quiet. All he needs is proof and this'll show that the government has been in on the cover up all along.

He's half inside the garbage bin and doesn't see or hear the Colonel coming up behind him.]

[Spam]

[most_feared]

[In the military, there's a universal language for, "What are you doing in my trash?" It's the sound of a rifle cocking. Loudly. And without so much as a curious grunt from its wielder. Instead, he's just looking expectantly as Narvin prowls through his discarded cans, wrappers, and a few shredded items written in Korean.]

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[The sound of a gun cocking very very close to Nathan gets his attention. He freezes. And very very slowly pulls himself from the trash and raises his hands, backpack still held in one of them. His hair is sticking up in every direction and he's got a smudge of some unidentifiable substance on his cheek. He stares down the barrel of the Colonel's rifle with wide eyes.]

[EMAIL] [BLOCKWIDE EMAIL]

[expectremorse]

To: nat-alone@aliensonearth.net
From: thehoffzer@gmail.com
Subject: It's that time of year again!Hello friends

[EMAIL]

[timesbureaucrat]

TO: thehoffzer@gmail.com
FROM: nat-alon@aliensonearth.net

The mayor should be preparing for a world-wide crisis. The fucking Final Days of Planet Earth.

Will Mrs. Hoffman be baking her double chocolate fudge cookies for the bake-off this year?

Nathan A. Lonum
Programming Solutions
www.aliensonearth.net

[EMAIL]

[expectremorse]

TO: nat-alone@aliensonearth.net
FROM: thehoffzer@gmail.com.

During these trying times Nate ole' pal...the world' got to worry about hunger. He might not be thinking about worldwide crisis. Just a Crisis down in the city.

She sure will. Will you be bringing the rice-krispie treats shaped like flying saucers again or was that Mr. Kowalski.

Mark Hoffman
Fooddyne Solutions.

[EMAIL]

[timesbureaucrat]

TO: thehoffzer@gmail.com
FROM: nat-alon@aliensonearth.net

I've got a bit of canned food to spare. [He's got a whole bunker full.] I'll donate a couple cans. They'll need it because a lot more people will go hungry when the invaders take out the freeways and railroads and disrupt all the supply systems.

That's great. Mrs. Hoffman makes the best cookies. And, yeah, I'm doing rice-krispie treats again.

Nathan A. Lonum
Programming Solutions
www.aliensonearth.net

[Spam!]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Foreign papers... It hints at involvement in a powerful global organization. Another piece of evidence tying them to the secretive Illuminati. Then he hears a voice...the even tones of an Illuminatus himself. He jumps from the trash and spins. A banana peel slides off his head.]

Mr. Von Graham. I was just looking for...uh...scrap metal. Yeah, that's it. Scrap metal for an art project. [Never mind that Nathan doesn't know the first thing about art, or welding. He just remembered something he read on the internet once about people making art out of metal bits and bobs other people threw away.]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Nathan, alas, thinks that his lie was a complete success.]

Oh, well, too bad about the scrap metal.

[Nathan watches Will carefully as he goes about his banana peel recovery and disposal. Then he blinks in surprise as he's offered ~Illuminati Chili~. On the one hand, it may be poisoned or drugged with some mysteries serum that could bend his mind to their will. On the other hand, it is cold out, and Nathan is hungry, and all he has to look forward to at home was a microwave dinner, same as every other night. And Mr. Lecter's cooking skills were legendary. Nathan decides it's worth the risk.]

That sounds great, thanks.

[spam]

[stepintoshadows]

[The neighborhood hobo is lurking outside your window, Nathan. Probably rooting through your garbage can; just think of it as just desserts. He's looking for leftover signs of the impending holiday, some kind of transgression; there has to be one, right? Everybody's got one.]

[spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Nathan assumes the worst. After all, if he's investigating possible government and extraterrestrial allies, perhaps *they* are investigating *him*. They might find out that he's on to them and lock him away forever. He runs outside to confront the spy. He doesn't think ahead, or else he might have planned his confrontation a little better. Instead, he just rushes towards his trash bin shouting.]

You won't find anything you government bastards!

[spam]

[stepintoshadows]

[Dinner leavings, discarded wrappings...nothing he was expecting, nothing he was looking for, but before he can finish there's an angry man running at him. He steps out of the way, just sidles to one side as if he'd meant to all along, glaring all the while as if Nathan were the one at fault here and not he for going through his trash in the first place. Whatever he had in his hand at the moment gets discarded in the process; it's not worth it at the moment, he can always come back later if it was potentially important.]

Not government; wouldn't be associated with Big Brother.

[A muttered sneer; it's possible Nathan heard, but he might just have easily only been talking to himself.]

[spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Nathan hears enough to be semi-assuaged. Anyone who calls the government "Big Brother" wouldn't be in on the alien plot. Although that still leaves a mystery on his hands.]

What organization are you with? Who do you work for?