Base? We have docked with Hamburger Island. There sure are a lot of burgers. They don't just cover the island. They ARE the island. There must be billions of them. Maybe even trillions. All of them are identical, steaming as if they have just come off the grill. Initial samples indicate that each burger has mustard, pickle, lettuce, tomato, and diced onion, all impossibly fresh.
You know me to be a man of science. Standing on this shore of burgers, though, knowing that I am among the first humans to lay my eyes upon such majesty? For the first time in my life I understand the appeal of surrendering to the inscrutable machinations of a higher power.
We're unloading the equipment now. I'll be in touch as soon as we get some solid readings from the electron burgerometer.
Brennan made an unsettling observation. With all of the excitement surrounding our landing, I failed to notice that Burger Island is devoid of all flora and fauna. There is no indigenous life of any sort. We saw several flocks of migrating birds approaching over the sea, and they all veered off to circle around the island. It was almost as if they were avoiding it for some reason. Curious.
Now, on to the data. Our tests confirm that the burgers aren't a surface-level phenomenon. There's no soil down there, no rock, nothing. As far as we can tell, it's burgers all the way down.
Brennan wants us to start packing some of the burgers up so we can ship them around the world. He claims that there are enough hamburgers to end starvation, that there might even be some sort of regeneration going on that will allow us to take burgers indefinitely without depleting the supply. We got into a heated argument.
He doesn't seem to understand that this place has to be preserved and studied. It's the last location on Earth to escape the clutches of mankind. What if the natural state of the universe is burgers? There's so much to learn!
Besides, I fear that Brennan's motivations are far from altruistic. One of my assistants came to me and claimed to have witnessed Brennan greedily scarfing down one of the hamburgers.
The vessel has been sabotaged. Someone tore out all the wiring. It's just gone. They even filled the enormous gas tank with burgers.
Worse, our fresh water supply has been tipped over. We're down to our emergency canteens, and there are no water sources on the island. I can't believe Brennan would sink so low. Who else could it be?
Please send help. We're on the island with all the burgers on it.
Brennan's body was discovered. Not just one, but seven burgers were crammed in his gullet. I suspect foul play. As I turned away from the corpse I saw a small, thin figure peering at me around a pile of burgers. It darted away before I could fully process what I was looking at. Am I imagining things? The outline of its upper body was somehow familiar.
Don't come. We can't risk the possibility of exposing this to the world. Civilization is not ready.
I should have known. That figure from the other day. The blur of red. That distinctive silhouette. I thought it a silly legend, but the Wendygo is all too real.
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
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