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Disclaimer: Roses are red, lawyers are greedy
We don't own Trigun, Cowboy Bebop, or Big O
So
please don't sue us, as we are financially needy.
Author's
note: There's a lot of typing, more for me since I have to write all of this
rather than just mindlessly tap keys. ~.^ And Meryl's report is meant to look
like the disjointed ravings of a lunatic.
"Report
In Two Keys"
Meryl Stryfe feels tired but strangely buoyed as she sits in front of her typewriter, composing what she feels is the best report in the history of the Bernardelli.
"Dear Mister Boss Man: Please forget about the Stampede Surveillance Project for the time being. This report is focused on much more important things and therefore should be given priority to all previously filed reports.
Among other things, I will tell you the reasons for our lives, present an economic theory of how everything depends on coffee and doughnuts, and present a new theory on the plants. I will also tell you of an invention idea that will make filing reports all the more easier, state my views on the Bernardelli dress code, present a style for a much more orderly society that results in much fewer claims, and above all else demonstrate that I, Meryl Stryfe, am fit to not only serve as president of the Bernardelli but as mayor of December City and Beauty Queen Of The Year.
The first matter at hand is that of our lives. Why are we here? What reason do we have to keep going on? Why are humans even choosing to live in a sandbox like this? Why have I not gotten my new derringer cape? Why do the water bills always go up in summer? My reason is simple: We are not really humans. We are Kuronekos with human appearance, and we all descended from a kuroneko on the ships. That would explain so much, if you can only grasp it fully in your mind! Kuronekos are there because they are there, here because they are here. They live uncomplaining lives, with nary a nyao in earshot. (Speaking of earshot, did you hear about the guy that attempted to pierce his ear with a derringer? I think he works in the mailroom now.)
As for the economic theory that everything begins and ends with coffee and doughnuts, I have gained that knowledge from the Stampede Surveillance Project, as well as that this world is made of love and peace. . .you see, someone buys $$30 double dollars worth of doughnuts. The baker goes and buys a $$2 to $$5 double dollar cup of coffee. The baker spends the rest of the money on local enterprise, as does the coffee seller. The patronized businesspersons then go back and buy more coffee and even more doughnuts. The cycle is only broken when a traveler buys coffee and/or doughnuts, and even then, travelers give more money in most cases so it kind of balances it out, or does it? Nevertheless, while this world is made of love and peace, it revolves around coffee and doughnuts in the economic sense."
Meryl
stretched and yawned as she moved back from the typewriter and slid another page
into it. "This is the easiest report ever, and I can't believe I'm almost
halfway through it, nyaooooooo." The shorter insurance girl begins meowing
as she reads over the report, then decides to sharpen her fingernails on the
wall a few minutes to calm down before continuing.
"Anyway, Mister Boss Mon, I have come to a conclusion about the plants. As for the humanoid plants in the surveillance project, they are rather interesting individuals to say the least. I personally believe that I should have both, nevertheless I had to choose one, so I chose what I presumed to be the best choice. We are incredibly happy with each other, although we have our share of arguments and disputes, there's so much more to everything than that, and even after the arguments when we make up can be very interesting to say the least. My conclusion is that I have no conclusion besides my love for both.
As for making the filing of reports much, much easier, I think we need a musically coded system. Color coding and alphabetizing are passe, my friend, absolutely old-fashioned. I'm saying, we code all of our life insurance cases as 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door,' all of our fire policies as 'Smoke Gets In Your Eyes' and 'Burn Baby Burn,' all of our storm policies as 'The Wayward Wind,' all of our theft and bandit policies as 'We're In The Money,' and so on, and so on. It would indeed be an easier system for our agents in the field flinging reports. . .filing reports. You will have to excuse me, I am absolutely bubbling over with so much knowledge and wisdome.
My views on the Bernardelli dress code are that for the time being, it is indeed quite good, and it provides for much entertainment on occasion. I totally support it, although I know of two people who really don't care for it because it is too elaborate and too professional. One has suggested bunny outfits, the other called him a needle noggin yet had no real ideas, at least that he was willing to reveal before me, as I was holding a large mallet at the time.
As for society, I for one think that we need to arm each woman with a large mallet or at the very least with a bullhorn and a collection of rolled-up newspapers. There would be many fewer attacks on women by drunks, many fewer drunks entirely, many fewer duels and other fights, and overall after a few times, the men would get the message.
In conclusion, I hope this report has enlightened you to the deeper truths of the universe and to the realities of our business as well. Signed, Fluffy-Wuffy Disaster Investigator and Yogurt Fiend, Meryl Stryfe."
Meryl
looks over the report in a rather satisfied manner, then places it on the desk
before she rather undignifiedly passes out, half-draped over the bed,
half-slumped on the floor.
Dorothy and Ed, carrying Selphie, who is now crying, walk into the room. "It should not be long for Meryl-lady. The sleep phase, once it is entered, only lasts a few hours, then they come back with a hangover but somewhat more sensible. Total recovery takes one night-night, unless a very small dose was taken. Ooooo, she's drooooling."
Dorothy walks to the desk. "What is this. . .she was typing something?"
"Let Ed read!"
"All right."
"Bababababababababababaabababababababababa engagagagagagaga. Gogogogogo. Babababababababa, and that's it for ten pages."