The last email I received from an inside source was a link to a news story about the lawsuit troll Erik Estavillo. What’s this, his sixth lawsuit in a year? If that’s news, then I’ll have to start writing about my bowel movements – they’re far less frequent and much more likely to be successful.
Even with the exception of a story about the antics of litigious faux-lebrities, most of the “tips” I get from readers are links to old stories about Rubik’s Cube solving robots and Mario needlepoint. Sifting through those emails each morning is a lot of monotonous fact checking that nearly takes the fun out of writing.
Monday was different. I woke up-that was my first mistake. The second mistake was checking my email which was, as usual, full of junk. I clicked the “Select All” tab and hovered my cursor over the delete button, the throbbing pain in my head compelling me to just click and be done with it all.
On a whim, I scanned quickly to make sure I wasn’t missing anything important. I spotted an email or two from my editor; no big loss, he’d send them again if they were really important. Then as I squinted at the bottom of the first page, I noticed an email entitled INFINITY WARD INSIDER INFO.
Hi, I am an employee of Infinity Ward and I’m trying to tell the world about what happened at our studios on Mar 1st, 2010. If you’re interested in details about what happened when Bobby Kotick came to the office, I have an exclusive story about it.
Okay, that was something. It was Monday, and I still didn’t have anything written for my column – actually I didn’t even know what I was going to write about. If it was good, or at least funny, I could post his letters and save myself a lot of time.
I sent a reply, ate three pickled sheep eyes, drank a Bloody Mary and thawed two frozen canaries in the sink. Trust me, this is the best hangover cure ever.
By the time CODwhistleblower’s next email arrived, I was feeling just fine and had no need of fried canaries. I put them back in the freezer and decided that my late lunch would instead consist of two frozen hash brown patties and a poached egg covered in mozzarella and eaten like a sandwich. As I ate, I read the email.
On Mar 1st, 2010 I was sitting at my desk when the building alarm went off. It makes a frightful noise, like an air raid siren. The doors all locked and many employees stood up to see what was going on. About 30 men armed with H&K MP-5s ran into the room screaming at the employees laying on the floor. I hid under my desk and pushed my rolling file cabinet in front of my position under the desk. From there I could hear handcuffs and screaming. I wasn’t sure what was happening until I heard Bobby Kotick’s voice.
I peeked out from my hiding spot where my fellow employees were lined up facing the wall on their knees. The guards had readied their weapons and Kotick was pacing behind them. I could hear him asking a programmer where Jason and Vince were. Thankfully I wasn’t a programmer or anyone important enough to search for. They probably just thought I had left early.
One programmer was hit in the back of the head with a gun-butt when he refused to answer Kotick. He finally caved in after they threatened to hook his genitals up to a car battery. I believe that they would have, Kotick had those Jack Bauer eyes. The programmer muttered that Vince and Jason had gone to EA and had asked him to defect with them.
That’s when Kotick got really mad. He started verbally abusing his employees and pulled out an ivory handled revolver. I thought he was going to execute the crying worker, but instead he set it on the desk and gave an order to one of the goons.
The guards shuffled everyone into the conference room where the guards forced them to sign non-disclosure agreements; I guess that they didn’t have much choice. Kotick was about six feet from me, intermittently taking pulls off a bottle of scotch while talking to himself between draughts. Then he picked up the gun and put it to his head. I really thought he was going to pull the trigger but instead he just sobbed and set it down again.
Kotick and most of the goons left about an hour later, but I was so scared that I remained under that desk for 12 hours. I only escaped by hopping on a janitor’s cart. I was unwittingly pushed out of the building by my savior, a Mexican guy whose nametag read, “Jesus.”
When I got home my wife just smiled at me and said that they were looking for me at work. Without a word to her, I went upstairs and packed a backpack. I thought it was best if I didn’t tell her what was going on. If she knew anything, they might go harder on her to obtain information about my whereabouts.
It’s been over a month now and I am living in a youth hostel somewhere in the Midwest. I have no money, and I am afraid to go to the police.
I sent an email to EA, asking for asylum like they gave to Jason West and Vince Zampella. The customer service people at EA said that they don’t want to get involved. I know there’s a price on my head, and I fear for my safety.
Please, if you have even the slightest shred of human decency, please pass this message on to all of the news outlets you can. I need the world to hear and understand how dangerous Kotick has become.
I finished my hashbrown-wich – it was delicious.
I was going to email him back but I had an accidental nap that prevented me from following up until Thursday. I still haven’t heard from him. I hope it’s just a late April fool’s joke or hoax of some sort.
Anyway, pizza’s here, I gotta go fry the chicken strips.
Marion Cox suggests following him on Twitter for all his bathroom updates.