I’m writing this from an Arkansas prison
Hi everyone.
I’m here to give you an update on how my quest to get baby flathead has developed over the past couple months since I published my first article on the subject. I’m sure you’ve been wondering about how I’ve been doing. Did I ever get baby flathead? When Rent star Anthony Rapp was in front of me in line at a brunch place, did I tell him about my idea for a production of Rent where all the characters have baby flathead?
First off, no, I didn’t talk to Anthony Rapp, mostly because I realized upon entering that the brunch place was definitely too bougie for me and I left. What I did do though, is realize that my lack of baby flathead was actually a lack of adequate research. I assumed that since neither me nor my friends could see a flat spot on my head it did not exist. And this is where the story begins, dear readers!
I learned that for the diagnosis of baby flathead, there is actually a scanner that exists in order to best create a treatment process. These are very expensive machines and there aren’t many around because, like I’ve said before, baby flathead doesn’t cause adverse effects other than literally having a flat spot on your head, so who cares. The nearest scanner to me was in Arkansas.
The scanner uses an eye-safe class 1 laser to scan the baby’s head. It takes 1.5 seconds to capture the image, then sends the image directly to the manufacturer. My plan was as follows:
– Get to Arkansas (easy)
– Break into hospital (moderately hard)
– Scan my own head and hack the computer so it sends the email to myself (really hard).
As you can probably already tell, it didn’t really go as planned. As it turns out, hospitals are open 24/7, so “breaking in” through the “window” actually drew more attention to myself. I managed to distract the nurses using one of my greatest skills, reciting lines from Saturday Night Live’s “Appalachian Emergency Room” sketches that I had memorized. They eventually left me in an empty room to fill out a bunch of forms. It was my time to strike.
I got to the children’s wing and encountered my second problem: my head is larger than the average head of a baby. It didn’t even fit in the scanner!!! I was so upset that I tried to smash the machine to pieces before remembering that I’m certainly not strong enough to smash the machine to pieces. Either way, it caught the attention of the staff and I was arrested for attempted destruction of private property or whatever.
So, I still don’t know if I have baby flathead. But this isn’t the end for me. I won’t give up this fight. That is my promise to you, dear Stranded readers. I will keep trying to get baby flathead, so YOU don’t have to.
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