The Mehliad

Chapter 45
Continuing the tale of young Dan Fogelberg (no not that one), who fell asleep in a storm and woke in a fantastical, creepy land. Beyond that, your guess is as good as ours.

The Wootazon folks were nice enough, but something seemed just a tad askew.

“What’s up with the polo shirts?”

“What do you mean, friend Dan Fogelberg? We love Wootazon, and celebrate it through brand-style-guide-approved work wear!” The smiles were starting to feel really creepy.

“It seems a little corporate is all. Don’t you guys make t-shirts?”

“Of course! We print all manner of internet meme and pop culture reference, crossbred with adorable chibi animals, onto beautiful American Apparel-like t-shirts. Then we pass the savings onto our friends, the Wootazoners.”

“You mean Wooters.”

“I mean Wootazoners! That is how our awesome community of folks have come to call themselves as they browse our ever-growing inventory of discounted electronics, wine, sports gear, kids toys, home and garden supplies, and kitchen appliances!” How the hell did this guy talk so fast?

“Ever-growing inventory? I thought you guys sell one thing a day.”

“We do! We sell up to 6,000 single things a day, and replenish our inventory with a new offer when one sells out! We are the original deal-a-day community!”

“But that’s not a deal a day. That’s…lots of deals.”

“Yes! Research indicates selling more than one item increases customer satisfaction AND profits! Do you have a problem with profits?” The question had an edge. I decided not to press it further.

“Right, so is the big boss man around? He might be able to help me. We actually go back, he was my mentor for awhile before-”

“The founder went away to live on a peaceful farm with his friends and family and still loves Wootazon with his entire heart but cannot come within 5000 miles of the country.”

“Oh. Shit. Well where can I-”

“You cannot see him. Ever.”

“Well what about any of the other old timers? Toon? Joel? Luke? Darold? Derek? Lisa?” He shook his head as I rattled off a dozen more names. This didn’t make sense. It didn’t add up. This wasn’t the place I knew. This was some hollow sham, a corpse being puppeted like some ghastly marionette.

“I can see you have your doubts,” polo shirt guy leaned in to whisper. “Would you like me to prove that we’re the real deal?”

“Uh, sure,” I said, not sure what else I could do but go along with him.

“Follow me,” he said, “I have some people I think you’ll be happy to see.”