“GET ME OUT OF HERE! COME ONE, READERS, SOMEONE! HELP ME!”
[REDACTED] is an America Fun Fact of the Day correspondent who has the thankless task of serving as our resident Undercover Investigator. He didn’t really want the job, he just signed up to be in AFFotD because, come on, it’s AFFotD. Fortune Magazine would have listed us as the number one company to work for, except we spent a good two thousand words ripping on Fortune Magazine for being stupid and not knowing what’s American. Let’s be real, you’d work here in an instant- our retirement plan includes a goddamn boat, and a free license to punch the celebrity that annoys you the worst. We had to start using phone books to the stomach on Justin Bieber because the authorities were starting to get suspicious about all the bruises. This is a pretty good gig, is what we’re saying.
Except for poor [REDACTED]. Ever since we sent him to do an expose on the evils of Vegan Restaurants, we’ve had to redact his name, so that his family, friends, and, well, hopefully God, wouldn’t find out about the things he had been forced to do. So, we tried to make it up to him by giving him a night of booze and freedom. Of course, we took advantage of his drunken state, and signed him to do all our unsavory articles, like talking about Cricket, and he can’t really do anything about it. Because of the information we have on him. Because he’s eaten Vegan. It’s not technically blackmail, but it basically is.
Anyway, now [REDACTED] is going to sit through some Opera. Ha ha!
Seriously? Are you fucking serious? Opera? You realize they don’t even speak English in this shit, right? Let me say that again. They. Don’t. Speak. Fucking. English. God, why am I here? What possible reason would AFFotD have to send me to a goddamn opera?
This is ridiculous. This is absolutely ridiculous. I will burn this place to the ground. The symphony is tuning their instruments right now. Do you have any idea what that sounds like? It sounds like the jungle yawning. It’s awful. Just awful. Every American fiber in my body is resisting it. I just punched a wealthy dowager in the face. In the face. Everyone was pretty upset, but when I started snarling like a rabid dog, they just backed off.
Looks like the curtain is rising…some people are coming on to sing some jibberish…
You know what? I’m done. I can’t take this anymore, I’m at wit’s end. Oh God, did I just use the term “at wit’s end?” [Editor’s Note: Yeah, we were about to say something about that…] This place is eating me alive!
On the first week of AFFotD boot camp, they taught us how to MacGyver ourselves out of prison if we were ever arrested. It’s come in pretty handy over the years. Did you know you can make a shiv out of a celery stalk and some duct tape? Well, you do now.
Anyway, all I can say is I blacked out and started stabbing people with celery. That cleared out the theater pretty good. Now it’s just me. Just me and a chance for freedom.
Well, me and the janitor crew. Very hardworking bunch right there.
Screw you, AFFotD, I’m out of this joint. I’m sending this letter to you on a panda pelt because, well, old habits die hard, but this is my way of saying I won’t be your guinea pig anymore. I’m done doing these unAmerican activities just for your own amusement. Fuck you very much, guys. We out.
[Editor’s note- Well, that was unfortunate. We’ve got a bit of a Bourne Identity situation on our hands, an ultimate America Machine on the loose, with a vendetta against his creators. But we ACTUALLY have Matt Damon, ie, Jason Bourne, so we’ve got him trying to hunt down REDACTED and get him back to our staff. Don’t sorry, we haven’t seen the last of him.]