"I have come to the realization, " said I to a packed conference room in the left wing of my mind, "that since I have embarked on this road of hard-nosed reporting for The Spoof that there are no bonus checks arriving in the mail."
I wiped my brow and sipped water because well that's what they do at press conferences, and continued, "therefore I am not quitting my day job."
The shocked utterance throughout the room surprised even me and I wavered on the brink of an emotional breakdown but held strong and continued. "I have already sent my boss a letter of apology for the previous letter of nastiness that I sent him and explained that it was all a big joke."
A sudden fury of snapping flash bulbs nearly blinded me. (That's right, flashbulbs! It is my press conference and admission required attendees to bring old cameras with flash bulbs and wear fedoras with press credentials stuck in the band.) But, I continued, while shading my eyes, "I know that statistics show that my pieces have been viewed by over a billion readers daily but that no longer translates into big bucks in this the age of the internet."
"What are your plans, " asked all the reporters in unison, "for the immediate future?"
"Well," I said, "I was hoping you guys would carry me upstairs on your shoulders while slapping me on the back and offer encouragement."
And that's what happened. They sat me down on my couch and I opened a beer and fantasized about future acceptance speeches while watching the Yankee game.