This Means War
It was now mid December and I suspected that Sean & Co. were anxious to get into bed with Ashfield, have sexual intercourse (I would call it fornication actually; weren’t they married to me after all) and give birth to their illegitimate baby (launch their business) in January 2014. The knowledge of the Ashfield relationship, and the child they were trying to have out of wedlock, was something I was going to keep as a secret between me and I.
I didn’t send the ‘tell not ask’ email immediately. I decided that there was a lot more time for mischievous hand rubbing and a lot more sweat left in the guys. So, I held my ground, continued to ignore emails and began to mentally formulate the wording of this legendary email I was going to send.
At this point I realised that there were a number of questions I forgot to ask Vito. I think I spent so much time trying not to poo in my pants in his regal office, that I lost sight of these vital questions. In hindsight, there was one question I should have asked after he had given me the nuclear weapon that was his 6 wise words. If I could borrow Marty McFly’s car for a few days and go back in time, I would have followed his 6 words with the reply: “at what price?”.
Was I going to place a value on it or was I going to let them come up with a figure? This was a difficult decision for me. If I aimed too high, I might damage any possibility of a buyout, if I aimed too low, I would be limiting myself if they paid out immediately. So, I decided to leave it wide open.
In reply to an email from Sean saying he needed to make a decision on his next move ASAP, I wrote the ‘tell not ask’ email. I left it open in that I didn’t place a figure on it. Here is the email:
The reply I got marked the first time in two and a half years that I had ever seen any weakness or vulnerability in Sean. You could read in his words that my email had shaken him badly. At least force 7 on the Richter scale. His reply was short, aggressive and full of fire. Here it is:
The thought of going to court excited me. It meant I was going to have to buy a new suit. But I had never really been to court before, so I didn’t know what kind of suit would suit a court appearance. As it wasn’t an everyday occurrence, I wasn’t going to buy a boring black, grey or charcoal suit. This was a special, once off, occasion and it therefore deserved a special, once off suit.
After a bit of research online, I decided I would buy a suit like this for the big day:
Yes, this suit was perfect. Hat and all. Gadaffi was my idle when it came to suit fashion. I was weak at the knees at some of his ensembles. I even considered wearing earphones upside down on the day of my court appearance, just to finish off the look.
But alas, I knew this was just another idle threat on Sean’s part and researching suits online was simply wishful thinking. You can’t blame me though, we all like to fantasise at times, no? When I woke up from my day dream, and the reality of never actually getting the opportunity to sport a getup like this in the High Court hit home, I realised that there was in fact a silver lining to the dark cloud that was reality; I still had another solicitor’s letter to look forward to!
I love a bit of drama. And apart from anything else, the letter would also provide the means to make another paper airplane for my dog to chase. Endless hours of fun…FOR FREE. I was in my element (as was the pooch).
So, a day or two later, the parts for my new paper airplane arrived in the letter box. Here it is:
Here again you can see that the letter was signed ‘Everyone Shites’ rather that the individual solicitor who had written it. Too right though. Could you imagine the strange looks you would get from your pharmacist if you presented a prescription that had been signed by a vet?
Ignore The War
I never had so much fun making a paper airplane in my life. Usually when I play with the dog, I like him to bring me back whatever I have thrown down the garden. In this case, I didn’t want it back. He could eat it, excrete it, dance on it, make a doggy hat out of it, break it up into thousands of pieces and use the pieces as doggy toothpicks over the years, use the letter to taunt the dog next door, and so on and so forth. As long as he was happy, I was happy.
As Sean & Co. were expecting their baby in January, they really needed me gone ASAP. Remember it was mid December, the height of silly season. The last thing they needed was me to fuck around. If I didn’t sign the option agreement, Ashfield would have no comfort in knowing that I “was legally committed to leaving OnlineGrinds.ie” and the deal may fall through. This is why Sean had Daniel O’Donnell send me the second letter. He thought that I would freeze in the head lights and sign the document without hesitation. How wrong was he. But then again, he didn’t know that I was aware of the impending baba.
Despite my serious urge to reply to Everyone Shites saying that the firm of solicitors I was nominating was Saul Goodman and Co., I resisted the urge and ignored the letter completely. I let the 3 days pass to see what would happen. The days soon became weeks and low and behold nothing ever happened. Surprise surprise.
But how long were they willing to wait for me to sign the option agreement before it was too late to launch in January? Would they give in and pay me just before it reached this point? I didn’t have an answer to this question, as no more oops emails were sent. But I was willing to wait and find out.
In any case, it looked like Sean & Co. had no intention whatsoever of taking me to court as (a) it would cost too much and (b) they were much more at fault than I, and being in court would expose their wrongdoings much more than mine (especially because I didn’t have any).
In many ways this is why I have no qualms about writing this blog. The lads are much more guilty than I (you will see why as we get towards the end). This is why I can pretty much push the boat out in terms of what I say, with no fear of legal retribution from their end. Bearing this in mind, allow me to say one thing:
BS, you are, have always been, and will always be, an absolute and utter Bollox.
Writing this blog is far more rewarding than any form of conventional therapy. I recommend it most highly. I only wish I would receive an SL though. I have wagers with my mates that I will receive at least 2, and most probably 63. Whatever I do, I cannot lose this bet.
So guys, can you please get your act together, take out the thumbs that are firmly lodged up your bottoms and send me an SL without delay? Yes I am talking to YOU Arthur’s Cock and YOU Everyone Shites. Please don’t delay now. Good boys. Love you lots.