This story is in the first book created from this website, Mentally Incontinent. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please consider picking up the book. It's chock full of stuff just like this.

The Motherboard Chronicles 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

IV. It's Getting Hot In Here
So, the display is working properly and the machine hasn’t locked up once in the past four days. Third time’s the charm, right? I can relax now, right?

Wrong.

Well, no, I could relax, just not without burning the delicately soft flesh off of my wrists and cauterizing my veins.

I was making good use of my third motherboard, posting ridiculous comments on the message boards at Fark.com, when I enacted a severe violation of proper typing posture and rested my wrists on the open area below the keyboard. They only stayed there for a moment, as the surface temperature of the rest area was hot enough to fry bacon, as well as the skin on my body. I had noticed that the temperature of the keyboard area was a bit warm but attributed that to the general conditions surrounding working in an attic office in Georgia in the summer. However, touching the metal just below the keyboard resulted in severe redness and swelling. These are definitely not ideal working conditions for anyone with exposed flesh, and I’d be damned if I would wear gloves in the summer.

After a moment’s ponderance, I noticed that the exhaust fan wasn’t blowing. I placed my fingers near the vent and felt a massive amount of heat pouring out. It immediately hit me that this was most likely going to mean another call to Dell. Completely instinctively, a string of vulgarity flew from my mouth and immediately collided with my wife who had just entered the room.

(In the interest of keeping things at PG-13, I have replaced all profanity with names of breakfast cereals.)

“You stupid piece of Shredded Wheat!” I screamed loudly.

“Woah,” she said, taken aback. “That’s no way to greet a lady when she walks in the room!”

“Sorry, dear,” I replied sheepishly. “You aren’t a piece of Shredded Wheat.”

“I should hope not,” she answered, “Given the way Shredded Wheat smells. So, what’s got you all in a tizzy?”

“Oh, this Frankenberry piece of Sugar Smacks laptop.”

“Oh, come on!” she exclaimed. “Another problem? You have to be Frazzles kidding with me!”

“Nope. It’s all Fruit Looped again.”

“What’s wrong with it this time?”

“Well, my wrists were getting tired, so I rested them on this part right here,” I said, pointing to the area where wrists look like they belong. “When I did, it burnt the living S’mores out of my wrists. It hurt like a Blueberry Morning.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, aside from being Post Oatmeal’ed at Dell. Now I have to waste another three Golden Graham hours on the phone with those Alpha-Bits.”

“Well, while you deal with them, I’ll go fix you a sandwich and bring you some aspirin.”

So, once again, I found myself dialing the number which had become permanently engrained in my mind in the hopes that I might actually get through the silence and connect with someone who made some sense on the first try. I figured, while I was at it, I might as well wish for a pretty pink unicorn, too.

“Welcome to Dell,” she said invitingly. “This is [name omitted]. To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Joe.”

“Okay, Joe, and may I please have your telephone number, just in case we get disconnected?”

“Sure, it’s [my telephone number].”

“Okay, and really quickly, do you have an Express Service Number you can give me? It should be the longer number on the back of your computer.”

“Yep, it is [my Express Service Number].”

A few moments passed as she entered the information and pulled up whatever it was she needed to pull up to tell me that I’d need to replace the motherboard again.

“Okay, it looks like you have an Inspiron 8500, and your warranty expires… hmm. Wow, that’s weird.”

I sighed heavily. “What is it this time?” I asked with dread.

“Hmm… this can’t be right. It says here that your warranty expired in April of 2003.”

“Oh, come ON!” I exclaimed. “How on Earth can that be possible?”

“I don’t know. Considering that the Inspiron 8500 wasn’t even made until April, I find that a little hard to believe myself. Hold on just one moment…”

A moment came and went.

“Well, that was a little strange, but I think I’ve gotten it taken care of.”

“What, exactly, was the problem?”

“Well, it seems that the last person in your file –“

I scowled. “Was it David?”

She hesitated a moment, then said “Yes, David – It looks like he somehow reset your warranty to April of 2000.”

“That son of a Boo-Berry!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, nothing. Excuse me.”

“Oh. Well, okay… Um… what is your issue?”

I explained to her that the exhaust fan wasn’t running and it was causing my system to run EXTREMELY hot.

“Well," she answered, "That’s not very good for the processor. We’re going to have to get that serviced.”

“Well, about that…”

“Yes?”

“Is there any chance whatsoever that you could just send me a little fan and I could install it?” My voice squeeked with pathetic hope.

“Oh, no sir. I’m afraid that-“ And the world went all swirly and her words pounded in my hears “-Your entire motherboard is going to have to be replaced.”

Oh well. The good news is that she at least knew what end was up. It’s too bad about the unicorn, though… I’d have been the hit of the neighborhood.

The order went in and the following day, the tech came out.

“Mr. Peacock, sir,” he greeted me.

“Hey there, Randy,” I replied. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, I guess, although I think we’d both rather it be over a beer.” We both chuckled heartily. Randy made himself comfortable at a free desk and began dismantling my laptop once again. I left to go attend to a server which needed extensive testing of the solitare program to determine its effective resources. A very short time later, I heard a tap on the door. It was Randy, and the expression he wore was a grim one.

“What’s up, Randy?” I asked glibly.

“You’d… uh… you might want to see this,” He replied.

I followed him into the room where he was making his repair. Before him sat my dismantled laptop, my old and nearly burned up motherboard, and a new motherboard which had a nice clean fissure straight down the middle of it.

“Umm… I don’t suppose that’s an upgrade of some sort, is it?” I asked.

“No, sir, I’d assume it isn’t,” he chuckled.

"Please, Randy," I begged, "Please don't tell me you just cracked my newest motherboard."

Randy assured me several times that it shipped exactly as it was when he showed it to me.

"Randy."

"Sir?" he replied.

"Randy, are you SURE you don't work for Dell?"

"No, sir. I'm just a contractor. Why?"

I looked him in the eye. "Absolutely certain?"

"Yes, sir," he replied earnestly. "Absolutely certain. Why do you ask?"

"Because if you did, I'd burn you in effigy."

Randy cracked up laughing, then finally muttered, “Looks like we gotta call Dell.”

“Well, you call them. I’ve run out of cereal names.”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, that’s an inside joke.”

Randy called Dell. Dell promised to overnight a new, crack-free motherboard. Randy told me to expect him around noon the next day. I waved goodbye to Randy. Randy waved goodbye to me. I went home and slept the restless sleep of a tortured soul. The next day, noon rolled around. There was no Randy. The same was true at 1:00, and again at 2:00. Finally at 3:00, I decided to call Dell.

“Uh, sir, there’s no order in the system for a repair.”

“What the HELL do you mean, there’s no order in the system for a repair?”

“Just what I told you, sir. I’m looking at the system and there is no order for a repair.”

I explained to this new tech support person (Justin, I believe his name was) all that had transpired thus far, and believe me – I spared not the cereal. Just when I thought he was about to hang up on me, Justin managed to get a word in edgewise and calm me down.

“Sir, it is alright. I can initiate a new order right now. Just hold on a second.”

“I’ve been holding on since April, Justin. I am so very tired of holding on.”

“I understand, sir. Just one moment, and we will get this taken care of.”

Justin disappeared into the void that is Barry Manilow for nearly two minutes, during which time I heard all about Lola and Rico and their torrid romance at the Copa Cabana. He arrived just before either Rico or Tony shot the other one (no one’s quite sure about that).

“Alright, sir, a new motherboard is being sent to the technical group nearest your location. A tech will be out in the morning to service your system.”

“And will that motherboard be in one piece?” I asked.

“Well, I can only hope so, sir,” he replied in earnest. “It sounds like you’ve had a pretty rough experience. I know that I, personally, want you to be satisfied.”

“Well, Justin, you could buy me a unicorn,” I replied. He didn’t get it, either.

Morning came, and so did Randy with the fifth motherboard to be installed in my system in less than 2 months – but you can bet your Molass-O’s it wasn’t the last.