Papa, Can You Hear Me?

You thought we were through, didn't you? The Office Avocado, once heralded by the New York Times as "the best blog in the history of the world," fallen to the wayside. Just another blog that had such promising beginnings, you thought, now lying amongst thousands of abandoned blogs in the graveyard that is Blogspot.com. Well let me tell you this: you were WRONG.

Perhaps an explanation is in order. You thought you were the only one spending the last month and half worried sick about Hugo, wringing your fingers in anxious anticipation of news about our brave little avocado, news you thought might never come. It might interest you to know that I, too, had the same painful experience and the reason is this:

Hugo Chavocado, feeling abandoned and cast aside by his father figure, Joseph, set out on an epic quest to find him and bring him back home to cubicle 19-240. His only knowledge of the whereabouts of said father figure came from casual comments before he left, mentioning a lengthy voyage through war-torn Eastern Europe. Overwhelmed by grief and the vast emptiness of 19-240, Hugo set out mere days after Joseph's departure, determined to bring him home. He traipsed through the bleak streets of Sarajevo, trudged along the alleyways of Budapest and spent some glorious sunny days on the beaches of Croatia. All along, just a few steps behind the elusive Joseph, who's movements became more and more erratic, no doubt to thwart the poor little avocado who just wanted his Pa' back.

After weeks of searching, Hugo could no longer deny his longing for the fluorescent lighting of 1 WFC. Just the other day, Hugo finally returned, sans Joseph. While he never found that which he was seeking, Hugo seemed to have gained an independance from the journey. And he seems to have finally cut himself free from the father figure on which he used to depend.

When I asked Hugo what caused the change of heart, he replied, "Who goes on vacation in war-torn Eastern Europe? I mean, seriously??"

From the front

There seem to be very few avocados in the former Yugoslavia. If there were any here, the former Yugoslavia would certainly be called (dare I say) Hugoslavia. There. I said it. I dared. The only avocado I have seen and eaten thus far has been in a... the Mexican restaurant in Zagreb. Wonderful mariachi band, decent guac. Nothing to write home about, especially with postage being what it is these days.

In other news, Kelly and Megan have failed to post much of anything on this blog. I talked to Hugo the other day (well, night here, because of the time difference between Hugoslavia and old Freedom Land) and he broke down over the phone because no one writes anymore. He also complained that he was too far away from the sun. Get your act together, you worthless paralegals.

Reporting live,
Joseph
Hugoslavia correspondent

ps. this post cost me 20 euro cents. i expect recompense.