Plabnox Cures Book Club: R. L. SWINNARD'S Terror Office: The Filing Project

Plabnox Book Club introduces its latest recommendation for readers, Terror Office: The Filing Project by R. L. Swinnard. Please enjoy the excerpt below.

Terror Office: The Filing Project
By R. L. Swinnard

Chapter 2: Anger

When she arose, Hesta was still in denial over the filing project she had been assigned at work yesterday. She fed the cat, composed a healthful lunch, and entered the shower with a calm countenance. But, in a shocking twist, the bathroom became a scene of primal rage when Hesta hurled the empty bottle of facewash out of the shower. It landed on the fleur-de-lis rug in the hall, with a sickening thud.

Plabnox: Not Afraid to Use People's Real Manes on its Website

PLABNOX CURES PRESS ROOM, New York City – Plabnox Cures’ spokesbeing shocked reporters recently with its brazen statement that Plabnox will continue to use people’s real manes on its website. Legal scholars forecast that Plabnox’s declaration of intent will foment new litigation in the realm of privacy rights and blogging. The landmark case Wade’s Mane v. Roe established a person’s right to privacy with respect to how s/he chooses to style her or his coif, without government interference. However, Wade's Mane did not address the issue of whether a person has a right to mane privacy from bloggers. Mane rights advocates deplore Plabnox’s pronouncement as compromising the very foundation of the Wade's Mane ruling.

Below: Ayrahn Jeynose, pictured on Plabnox with his real mane (not a wig).

Plabnox Cures Awards First Lifetime Achievement Award to Charon Janus

Plabnox Cures will honor Ayrahn Jeynose with a Lifetime Achievement Award at the annual Plabnox Cures Awards Ceremony. Jeynose, a bigwig, left his imprint on the nascent website, http://geocities.com/plabcures/homeB.html, with a duo of contributions: 1) He added an audio clip from the popular "Big Butts" song to http://www.geocities.com/plabnoxcures/fem.html; 2) He photoshopped one image on another page, http://www.geocities.com/plabnoxcures/Dalton.html. Plabnox feels indebted to the man who gave over 25 minutes of his life to the Plabnox project. Without Jeynose, Plabnox Cures would be intrinsically unchanged and undoubtedly would have become the great success that it is today.

Above: The coveted PC LAA

Plabnox Cures Publications Presents a New Page-Turner...

The HTML Code, the latest computer software/website building thriller from Dr. Prosperina Swinnard, will surely be the sine qua non of beach reading this summer. Swinnard transplants the celebrated prose and structure of Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code to the seductive milieu of HTML enciphering. Courtesy of PC Publications, please enjoy the excerpt below, which showcases Swinnard's fine use of suspense (this excerpt terminates Chapter 2 of the novel):

Rachel announced that after lunch, Hesta would be faced with an HTML
project. Remaining cryptic about the specifics of the project, Rachel
departed for her repast. Hesta didn't know whether Rachel had
completely lost her mind or was just too hungry to disclose any
details. She flashed back to her days in computer science classes at
an Ivy League university…

Professor Pastry, a rotund Englishman clad in voluminous tweed trousers which accentuated his breadth, puffed on a pipe on the dais at the front of the classroom.

Suddenly, he bellowed, "And can any of you guess what tag we would use?" "Not ''?!?" cried a student. Professor Pastry whirled around like a carousel, "Wrong again! It's '', a tag which scientists have found recurs on webpages with greater frequency than any other HTML tag! In fact, it is the golden ratio of HTML!"

Student, "No way!"

Pastry's corpus volte-faced again, "Way!!"

…Hesta came back to the present. She felt like a caged animal. Little did she know that when Rachel returned from lunch, Rachel would reveal that the project involved an unprecedented amount of 's—more than Hesta had ever typed before…

Harried

Hesta, garbed in a silk skirt and blouse, burgundy clogs, and cream-colored socks that matched her legs, placed her usual phone call to Thorndike during her stroll home from work yesterday. After hanging up, she noticed black thunderheads movin' in, so she hastened her gait toward home. She reached the bottom of the hill at the art museum and, hearing a faint whisper of distant thunder, started running like a madwoman up 24th Street, her polyurethane purse and Shaw's Wild Harvest bag flapping about at her rear. Hesta's frenzied stampede carried her, sweat pouring down her tomato-toned face and maw agape, past myriad blissful couples and groups seated at outdoor cafes. When she arrived at her front door, she felt the sky secrete the first droplets of rain.

Shopper’s Sanctuary: “Free Stuff”

I recently sojourned with my friend, the Viscountess of Corinth, at her abode in Corinth, VT. Caveat emptor: do not let Corinth, with its pastoral and provincial façade, fool you– it is a mecca for sophisticated shoppers. The Viscountess (who stalwartly defended her estate from plundering by Roger of Sicily [moustachioed] in the twelfth century) took me to her favorite art supply store, “Free Stuff,” located in the driveway of an abandoned barn. This boutique beckons passersby with a splintered wooden sign spray-painted with its name, "Free Stuff"—also the sole indicator of its existence. Behind the sign rises a mammoth mound of treasure: discarded cinderblocks, wood chunks, shattered glass, Styrofoam bits, trash bags, pellet sacks, and a collection of irregular papers and plastics are all sure to provide rich fodder for artistic masterworks. "Free Stuff" breaks with shopping convention by forcing the shopper to rifle through its pile of detritus, for which there are no directories or discernible aisles. With no staff or identifiable owner, the guerilla store operates much like the reclusive Belgian designer Martin Margiela-- under a cloak of mystery. It has no set hours or physical boundaries, and the perimeter of the mart fluctuates with the girth of its contents. While hidebound naysayers decry the landfill-like presentation of the emporium as beyond the pale of acceptable shopping, "Free Stuff" is adored by members of the Hegelian, anarchic, and abject schools of shopping.

Below: The visually arresting dump aesthetic of “Free Stuff” (click on picture for larger image)