From the Annals: Tall Tales of Gaming: Little Computer People

I did a piece called Tall Tales of Gaming for Computer Games Magazine. This was the follow-up piece. It’s a batshit crazy story about David Crane creating Little Computer People. It was written before I knew how to write, so don’t judge me too harshly.

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       “…And that’s why we need your help, Mr. Crane,” finished the
four-inch-tall mayor of the little people with a grand wave.
       David Crane feigned being moved by their tales of being constantly
pursued by the ferocious creatures that inhabited their island; a
difficult task, as he was being deafened by the sound of cash
registers.
       “Uh huh, that’s really heartbreaking,” Crane said, as he thoughtfully
fondled the floppy disk in his pocket. “Listen, do you guys…do
anything?”
       “Sorry?” said the mayor with a furrowed brow.
       “Do you do anything interesting?” Crane asked curtly.
       The mayor’s face beamed, “Of course! We love to play poker, practice
the piano, tend to our pets-“
       “Yeah, OK, sounds good,” interrupted Crane, scooping all of the
island’s inhabitants into his arms.
       The townsfolk embraced as a little boy asked tearfully, “So does this
mean you’ll let us come and work in your chocolate factory?”
       “What the hell are you…Oh! The chocolate factory! Well yes, of
course! It’s a magical place, full of…wonder, and you’ll…uhh, always
be safe from the…vermicious knid,” Crane replied, attempting to judge
the child’s weight as one might select the ripest melon.
       “OK, gang, here’s the deal. You’re all going to the factory, and it’s
going to be really wondrous and everything, but I’m going to have to
transport you all,” Crane said as he pulled the disk from his pocket,
“in this.”
       “What…what’s that?” asked a tiny, trembling woman.
       “Why, it’s a magical transporter that makes Uncle David $27.50 in
royalties whenever one is sold,” replied Crane with a sadistic laugh.
       “But how will we all fit in there?” said the mayor, his giddiness
melting to terror.
        “Well, Ringo,” Crane flicked open his rusty pocket knife, “that’s
what we’re going to find out.”

                               ***********************

       Hours had passed, Crane was coated in sweat, tears and purplish
blood, and not one of the little people was on the computer disk!
       But Crane would not be defeated, he knew “Little Computer People”
could be a hit, if only…suddenly, as he looked at the remains of the
world’s smallest humanoids, he knew what he had to do.
       He would learn how to program! It was almost too easy. The only thing
that could stand in his way now were thirty or so tiny skeletons in
his closet.
       Crane wiped his hands on a nearby patch of grass, and set off to find
a very tiny shovel.