I’ve been locked in the Press office for close to 100 days. I need help.
Being the savant in journalism promotion that I am, I was hired in January by The Brock Press to promote the issue that I’m currently doctoring this article to fit into, a.k.a. The Brock Crass edition.
Over the last 60 days, I’ve been trying each of the few hundred passwords that I’ve found on sticky notes or old trashed papers in here to get onto one of the computers. Well, after waiting three days for the password-failure failsafe timer to reset on one of them, I finally got in a few days ago.
I then sneakily submitted this piece under the name of the Editor-in-Chief in their storylist; I know he’s been away on a political retreat doing non-violent terrorism to Tesla factories based on information I gathered from a personal schedule he left in his small office here.
Let me give the story though.
You see, part of being hired involved recording a promo podcast with the Managing Editor of the Press. When we recorded it, he showed up in a goddamn monkey suit… then thought the podcast was Hot Ones… and then, after the cameras stopped rolling, he freaked out and told me that my unpreparedness was to be met with a “steep consequence.”
He promptly knocked me out with the mug full of wing bones in his hand. I awoke on the cold floor of the Press office with the door locked, lights off and the front windows blacked out. All that remained was a note: “Do the crime, do the time — also your service fee has been reneged on, b*tch.”
So here I am, surviving off the minimal protein that the invasive wall crickets and whatever was left in the fridge provide me, as well as barely hydrating myself using the now nearly empty water cooler jug left here. In short, I’m withering away day by day.
Me! Starving! Can you believe it? — I was once the Don King of journalism promotion, but now I look like Ghandi without the societal prestige that even he had. It’s embarrassing.
I am writing this as an SOS: I need one of the Brock students reading this to please make the university or BUSU or someone aware of my hostage situation and BREAK ME OUT. Don’t read the rest of this stupid Crass issue, and don’t you dare watch the promo podcast they released without paying me after holding me hostage: that would be trauma porn on your part.
This is real — I need your help now.
Call 289-681-3491 to learn how you can help me.
**This article is part of a special edition of The Brock Press for April Fools and is completely satirical. None of the content contained within this article is meant to be representative of reality, but you should still call the number (wink).**