There's only one thing I love more than crows eating humans, and that's humans eating crow. How about a dose of self-humiliation to wash down that gamy bird, Sean, old sport?
Turns out, not only have I not been "fired" by Darla, I have been promoted. My new title is a ridiculous concoction, naturally, and I cannot even hope to recall it at present. Or perhaps ever. But that hardly matters to me because the upshot is that that crow-munching human has been placed on my staff. That's right, he answers to me now! It was painfully obvious to Darla, as well as anyone who happened to read this blog, that I was in over my head. His vehement exhortations that I should "play a few video games or something before you, I dunno, try to make one" were merely an underhanded way to make me miss my deadline. And it worked. But those Pyrrhic victories have a way of biting you in the portable beanbags, don't they, buddy boy?
Cuz--you ready for the best part?
He has exactly one week to come up with a viable concept for a game. Not just viable, mind; one that will sell until the cows come home and collapse exhausted from having been well and truly milked within an inch of their pointless, bovine lives.
OR (and here's my fave part) he will be let go. By Darla. At 10,000 feet.
Who's laughing now, hairy man?
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