Interior, Twitter HQ. Elon swaggers in, to be met by Twitter's leadership team, one of whom carries a large plastic bin wrapped in duct tape.
Elon: Sup, 'fuckers.
Twitter exec: Congratulations on your purchase of this bin of squirrels. Some of them are rabid.
Elon: Gimme. *rips tape off*
Twitter exec: I really don't recommend you do that.
Elon: Before I open this, cut a hole in the top and give the squirrels cocaine.
Twitter exec: Even the rabid ones?
Elon: Especially the rabid ones. It's not like you can tell the difference.
Twitter exec: *sighs* Maybe we start with one non-rabid squirrel and give it just a little cocaine?
Elon: *stabs bin, pours metric fuckton of blow into hole*
Squirrels: *begin to scream*
Twitter execs: *back away slowly*
Elon: Nobody can work from home anymore.
Elon: Verify all the squirrels.
Twitter exec: I ask again whether perhaps we might verify just one squirrel, see how it goes. The FTC ...
Elon: You're fired. You, verify all the squirrels.
Custodian: Um, today's my first day, sir ...
Squirrels: *ominous chittering*
Elon: See, they're already chillaxing. Are they verified yet?
Custodian: I don't ... know where that room even is, sir?
Elon: Fuck it. *pushes giant red button* All squirrels are now former President George W. Bush. *rips bin open*
Squirrels: *pour out, ragefully rejoicing*
Squirrels: *tweeting 'Abigail Adams could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch'*
Squirrels: *tweeting 'I declare war on Switzerland'*
Squirrels: *gnawing Elon's foot, foam-ily*
Elon: Can someone help me get these back in the bin? Also you work 80 hours a week now. In a row.
Squirrels: *nibble, shrieking*
Enter Elizabeth Warren with a bazooka labeled CONSENT DECREE. Several squirrels escape through the door before it closes.
Offscreen: Brakes squeal, glass breaking, human screams, squirrel screams.
Elon: No one who works here can have tattoos.
Squirrels: *skitter industriously*
Warren: What are they ... doing?
Elon: It appears they've made a tower of human body parts, what's the big deal?
Warren: Are those ... your advertisers?
Elon: Yeah, but we'll get new ones.
Squirrels: *worship noises, gurgling*
Warren, into a burner phone: Protocol Zebra, NOW.
Elon, addressing squirrels: Guys, you gotta climb back in this bin and stop taking cocaine. Pretty please?
Squirrels, painted with the blood of the innocents: *tweeting 'Dog Rates sucks dicks in hell'*
Elon: All Twitter employees are now named G. The number after your name designates your pay. Yours, for example, is 3.2.
Warren: I don't work here.
Elon: Look, the squirrels were always gonna do cocaine and bust out of the bin. I just sped up the process.
Warren: No shit, genius.
Squirrels: *tweeting angrily at @steak_umm account*
Offscreen, a high whining sound begins to build.
Squirrels: *raise heads in unison*
Elon: *grabs one squirrel, breaks its neck* There, I solved the problem. Gimme a hand with these other ones.
Custodian: Sir, there are thousands of them.
Whistling: *intensifies*
Warren: *shoulders gun* This isn't necessary. Godspeed, rodent brethren.
Squirrels: *salute*
Warren: *exits, dragging bloody fur*
Elon: *addressing squirrels* You now all work for Twitter. Verify that all our products are functioning as normal.
Squirrels: *gnaw cables*
Elon: WHAT is that fucking noise?
A bright light begins offscreen and engulfs the room. When it recedes, Twitter HQ is a burnt-out shell full of furry skid marks and a splotch of spray-tan.
Chryon: *one year later*
Warren enters in Hazmat suit. On her shoulder is perched a squirrel, also in a Hazmat suit.
Warren, into radio: Site secured, Madam President. No sign of any of them.
Squirrel voice, through radio: Mission accomplished.
All you beautiful idiots in my mentions arguing about the line of presidential succession for the squirrels would have done GREAT on Usenet in the 90s.
I don't have anything to plug here except the idea that maybe we should fund actual young journalists doing real work in the world instead of pouring money down the hole of the Next Big Platform, so go here and chip in:
dailycardinal.com/page/donate
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