So Long and Thanks for all the Fish...
First published 11/16/2000

(Open on: Paul, sitting at his desk.)

PAUL: Hi! You know, if there's one thing that's fascinated people throughout history, it's me. People are always asking about me, and how I put together this column. "How long did it take you to write that?" they say. Or: "Does somebody pay you for that?" Or, even: "Is writing that column some sort of court-mandated thing?"

In light of this fascination with all things me, I thought we'd take a break from the fun and frivolity this week. Instead, I'll give you a tour of my office -- a behind-the-scenes glimpse, if you will, at the life of a humour columnist.

(Paul pats his computer.)

PAUL: It all starts here, with my Macintosh G4. Four hundred MHz and 196 Megs of RAM. Why do I need such a powerful computer to write a 550-word column? The answer is simple: distractions. My Mac allows me to keep Subatomic Humor from being too funny by constantly tempting me to play "The Sims." Also, it allows me to keep my web browser constantly open, so I can suddenly stop writing for no reason and waste time looking up some useless piece of trivia like who played Oscar Goldman. (Paul taps on his keyboard for a moment.) It's Richard Anderson.

(Paul gets up and walks over to a door labeled "TOP SECRET.")

PAUL: But that's the past. Let's turn to the future. Behind this door is my automatic writing project. As I've said before, if an infinite number of monkeys can write Shakespeare, it should take about 7 to write this column. And, in this room, I've taken the first steps towards realizing that dream.

(Paul opens the door, revealing a mangy-looking monkey sitting in front of a computer. The monkey is playing "The Sims," although when it sees Paul it quickly quits and guiltily tries to look as if it's working. Paul frowns and shuts the door.)

PAUL: I'm thinking of starting over with chickens. Now, let's head to the basement and see my nuclear accelerator...

(Paul walks towards the stairs but, at the last minute, trips on a box of unsold "100 Years of Subatomic Humor" books. He goes flying, head over heels, down many flights of steps... finally landing in a painful and bloody heap on the basement floor.)

Paul: Arghhh... legs broken... body shattered... broken femur popping through skin... must call Hercules...

(Paul fiddles with his belt buckle, but succeeds only in undoing his belt, revealing the beginnings of an impressive beer belly.)

PAUL: Damn! Wore wrong belt! Must get help... can't last long...

(Paul notices his cat watching from a nearby sofa. He crawls to it, causing an artery to open and begin spurting blood across the room.)

PAUL: Hey... cat... go for help... go for help, boy... go upstairs and call an ambulance...

(The cat stares blankly for a moment... then, a glimmer of understanding appears in its eyes. Decisively, it leaps down from the couch... and begins happily lapping from the pool of blood that is rapidly collecting around Paul's mangled body.)

PAUL: Argh! Should have got a fish... come on, you stupid cat! Go for help!

(Paul's wife, who is standing right there, turns to him.)

PAUL'S WIFE: I'm right here; why don't you ask me?

PAUL: No! I want to see if the cat will do it!

(Paul passes out. Fade to black.)

ANNOUNCER: Will Paul survive? Was he right about Oscar Goldman? And how's that monkey coming along? Tune in for the answers to these exciting questions and more... in the next exciting episode of Subatomic Humor!

Like the column? Buy the book! 100 Years of Subatomic Humor now on sale!