TumbleDweeeb

The Bug I Didn’t Remove
A Whimsy-Whirly, Topsy-Turvy, Tale of Delightful Nonsense
By: Emmitt Owens

In two-thousand-seventeen, so the story goes,
Everyone was keeping score with their…
fingers and toes!

Of a game nobody wanted, a game with no rules—
I said, “I won’t play!” and they thought “he’s a fool”.

Ten years before that (or was it eleven?)
I found in my car…
something sent down from…
well … NOT heaven!

A bug! A listening device! A spy-gadget-thing!
Some corporate nincompoop made my Cadillac sing!

Most people would SCREAM! They would panic!
They’d shout!
They’d call up the police!
They’d tear their hair out!

But me? Oh, dear reader, I giggled with glee—
I thought, “This surveillance will be FUN-NN-Y TO ME!”

When you’re NOT doing wrong things
(no crimes, no bad deeds)
And someone is listening to all that you breathe,

You can make them hear ANYTHING!
Gobbledy-gook!
You can scramble their brains like a
Dr. Suess book!

They can’t SEE me, you see
(just audio, you know)
Just sounds! Just a voice!
Just a disembodied show!

No context! No clues! Just mysterious noise!
So, I plotted and planned with my sneaky-sneak poise!

I started playing music—
but BACKWARDS, you see!
Songs spinning in REVERSE,
like a time-twisted tree!

They sounded like demons! Like goblins! Like ghouls!
Like garage bands with hiccups attending bad schools!

Then I recorded MYSELF and reversed THAT, too!
“I need to buy milk” became
“GLUB-GLUB-GIB-A-LEE-BOO-HOO!”

Ancient curses! Dark spells! Summoning terrible things!
If you play it in reverse, oh, the chaos it brings!

Then one day at work
(on a Tuesday, I think)
A fellow named Carl—
we’ll call him Carl Fink—

Walked up to me, serious, solemn, and grave,
And said, “You have DEMONS!
You need to be saved!!!”

He declared it! Proclaimed it!
Like diagnosing flu!
And there I stood,
trying not to laugh at-this-idiot-dude,

Thinking about my backwards track, my audio trick,
While Carl believed demons were making me sick!

Poor Carl! Dear Carl!
He had NO CLUE … not at all
But I MEANT to play this backwards since way back last fall!

He decided weird sounds equal supernatural fright—
Like people in the seventies, barcodes at night!

“The MARK OF THE BEAST!”
they would shriek and would wail
At UPC codes on a grocery store sale!

Miss Cryer at checkout, connecting dots that weren’t there—
Just like my dear Carl … with his demon-filled stare!

Carl told management! (Of course that he did!)
He reported the demons like a tattletale kid!

Then ONE FATEFUL DAY
(oh, the plot it does thicken!)
I went to the store, and I purchased a CHICKEN!

The label said “YOUNG HEN” in letters so clear,
I got in my car with a devilish leer.

I said very loudly
(with nobody there),
“I like them YOUNG!
Yes! With tender young care!

The YOUNG’UNS are perfect! This age is RIGHT, THERE!”
I tried not to laugh—oh, I tried … I might swear!

You see, people ALREADY thought
(those gossipy folk)
My wife was MUCH younger
(their theories, a joke!)

She was only SEVEN … years younger than me—
But they didn’t know that! So, they theorized freely!

Somewhere in corporate
(in a room very big)
Someone had a meeting
—they was flipping their wigs!

“THE YOUNG’UN!” they gasped! “What could this mean?”
HR wrote reports on this chicken cuisine!

“Please investigate… THE CHICKEN!” I’d say
(If they asked me directly on some sunny day)

“The dinner chicken! Purchased fresh from the store! Please, burn corporate time decoding that lore.”

Then one fine morning
(a Thursday, perhaps)
I made a PLAY phone call
(with imaginary chaps!)

To my wife! But one-sided! A monologue show!
The phone wasn’t NEAR my ear—just ME talking, you know!

“I’m sorry, baby…”
(I acted so sad)
“I know that I promised…
I’ve been very bad…
Blah-blah-blah-blabbity… black eye… oh dear…”
(There WAS no black eye! Let me make that quite clear!)

One hour went by
(maybe less, maybe more)
Corporate security KNOCKED on my front door!

“Wellness check!’ they announced with a quavering voice; My wife was perplexed — but they’d made their own choice.

She was perfectly fine! Not a bruise!
Not a mark!
No assault! No black eye!
Not even a dark
Little smudge! She was CONFUSED, befuddled, felt judged!
The listeners looked STUPID! (In fact, they looked as if they were holding a grudge.)

They wasted resources!
Bothered security folks!
With false alarms triggered by…
my little silly, absurdity hoax!

What were they listening to? A PERFORMANCE, dear friend!
Designed to expose their snooping! THE END!

Well… not quite the end
(there is so much more!)
Play stupid games,
win stupid prizes galore!

Management squandered their oh‑so‑precious little time — And I refuse to be blamed for their little, paranoid … paradigms.

This BUG became corporate…
investigators wild!
Chasing ghosts! Finding nothing!
Like a confused little child!

Searching for things that DIDN’T EXIST anywhere!
While me? On my couch! Without any real cares!

With beer! With pizza! The Big Bang Theory show!
While HR was writing reports down below:
“Employee mentioned ‘YOUNG’UNS’ in context suspicious!
Subject apologized for assault that was quite fictitious!

We sent security! We’re STILL investigating!
Subject may be involved in things Satan-related!”

I’m just watching Sheldon knock —
“Penny, dramatically, Penny!”
Beer in hand, feet up, and my stress level’s practically empty.

No worries, no cares — just my everyday sway, while management panicked and spiraled away.

I left random items!
I said random things!
Weird out-of-context gobbe-ledy-die-gookish-eee-ings!

Made management think the WORST things about me! “Got the package!” I’d say with mysterious glee,
“No, the OTHER package! Yes! You know what to do!”
(The package was paper towels—but… only I knew?)

From Walmart I carried a box through my door—
Management probably searched, looking for more!

They followed! They watched! They dug high and low — For Easter eggs that existed only in their show.

Like kids in a field on an Easter egg hunt,
Searching for eggs that I didn’t plant—not one!

While I sat on my porch with beer in my hand,
Watching them watch me—oh, wasn’t it GRAND?

Someone at work asked
(with casual stealth),
“Is everything okay? Your home?
Your health?”

Carl was FISHING! Reporting! Being a snoop!
I said with confusion, “Everything’s soup!
Er… SUPER! I mean! Why would you ask?
Should I worry ’bout something? Some mysterious task?”

The young thing was CHICKEN!
(Lemon Peppered delight!)
Devoured for dinner on
a fresh Friday night!

The thing I apologized for? DIDN’T EXIST!
The packages? PAPER TOWELS! (Can you resist?)
You know I’m making up … in this shit.

The demons? Just backwards audio tracks
That I made in my studio (just simple damned facts!)

Everything’s FINE-IDY-FINE-FINE-FINE,
Except for management who’s been crossing my lines!

They’re convinced that I’m POSSESSED!
Or running some DRUGS!
Or involved in illegal things like some sort of thug!

All from the context of their recording device
That they tried to hide (which wasn’t so nice!)

They think they’re investigators — the brightest, the best! But they’re merely my audience in my solo‑act test.

“The young’uns connect to the backwards tune!
Which connects to THE THING
under the light of the moon!
Which connects to the PACKAGE!
And three years of sound!
Of fragmented audio scattered around!”

And NONE of it connected
to ANY. REAL. THING.
But random nonsense!
Like a bird that can’t sing!

Designed to waste time! To befuddle! Confuse!
And it WORKED! Oh, it worked! They all surely did lose!

I turned privacy violation…
into an ART!
Maximum chaos!
(My favorite part!)
Minimum effort!
(The best kind of game!)
Made them investigate my private life things!
WHAT A DAMNED SHAME!

Using clues I invented while sitting at home!
In my SWEATPANTS! Watching sitcoms!
(Not even a tome!)

Drinking BEER! Being lazy! Just living my life!
While they scrambled and panicked and sharpened their knives!

Eight years later
(it’s Thursday, don’t forget)
I’m thinking about this with zero regret,

Somewhere back then — in the land of “way‑back‑when” —
Some corporate asshole … REALLY studied that hen.

HR was puzzling!
“What IS the thing?”
What package? What demon?
What does it all bring?

There were NO PIECES! There was NO PUZZLE, you see!
Just me on my couch, drinking beer, feeling free!

Who found a bug and decided RIGHT THEN
The appropriate response was performance again!

Accidental art! Specializing in MESS!
Making management panic! Creating distress!

Most people would panic? I PLAYED! What a lark!
And somewhere management stumbled into the dark.

Losing a game they didn’t know they were in—
While I sat there grinning my Cheshire cat grin!

The devil shows up
(or so people say)
Whenever something makes folks
uncomfortable in ways,

Or when they’re listening to things they SHOULDN’T hear,
And hearing exactly what they already feared!

The REAL scary thing isn’t demons or ghouls—
It’s management who thinks it’s okay to break rules!

To put bugs in cars! To spy and to pry!
The nosy ones heard backwards music (oh my!)

And a guy who mentioned a young chick at the store, HR started drafting reports even more—
About SATANIC grocery shopping sprees…
About demons and devils and unholy made pleas!

We’re so busy being afraid of fake monsters, you see,
That we don’t even notice (not you, and not me)

We’re the ones CREATING the monsters! It’s TRUE!
The calls are coming from INSIDE of the zoo!

I’m posting this NOW in two-thousand-twenty-five,
Because NOW is when I remembered (feeling alive!)

That time years ago when people at work
Were chasing and panicking (going berserk!)

About someone who was…
JUST sitting alone,
Watching Sheldon Cooper,
with no urging to roam,
Drinking beer in his meth‑house‑looking mobile abode, with a Cadillac Escalade parked at his very home.

Not panicking! Not worried! Not scared in the least!
Just PLAYING! Just VIBING! Like a whimsical beast!

The setup was BULLSHIT before I began—
Before I played backwards tracks!
Before I made plans!

…BAZINGA! That’s what Sheldon would say!
As I sat there and watched them wasting whole days!

Hehe, they think I’m interesting! (What a delight!)
While I’m just me, being me, on a regular night!

#ThisIsMineEO

—
The Moral (if there IS one) of this Whimsy tale:
If you play stupid games, you will surely set sail
On a ship made of nonsense, with prizes so dumb—
Play stupid games, WIN stupid prizes! They WON!

THE END
(Or is it…?)