Dandelion Back to: Some So-Called Music

All-Staff Luncheon

A 25th century organizing song. I'm told it works well to "The Irish Washerwoman".

They say men are from Mars and women from Venus,
But there's not one Angstrom of distance between us,
Compared to our Bosses who treat us like bugs,
And I've just found out they're all alien slugs...

Look what's crawled out of the veep cloning tanks --
One more Vice President, swelling their ranks.
For each one of them, there's ten fewer of us.
Wouldn't you know it, they're carnivorous.

Come from Arcturus, should anyone ask,
Each one is wearing a smiley-face mask,
Hiding a mouth full of nasty sharp fangs,
One look at us and they get hunger pangs.

Pangs in the tummy! Pangs in the tummy!
(Human employees are tender and yummy.)
Please understand, though we sometimes act chummy,
Your only job's easing pangs in the tummy.

Out cames a memo, it seems kind of hokey:
A party with bowling, and beer, and karaoke.
Come to their party? Well, they've got some nerve:
Mom didn't raise me to be an hors d'oeuvre.

Up in some meeting, those aliens twitter:
"How can we dine on employees so bitter?"
I heard a slug saying, "trust's in the tank,
it's got to be time to give all those bugs blank-
ets."

Bugs in a blanket! Bugs in a blanket!
(Now morale's lower; I think we just sank it...)
How will we get them to come to our banquet,
As happy deep batter-fried Bugs-In-A-Blanket?

Think they're not aliens? I've got the proof:
Check out the saucers they keep on the roof.
Spouting out edicts of dubious worth...
Based on some logic that's Not Of This Earth.

Fancy themselves as gourmets, so it looks.
They brought along their humanivore cooks.
Alien chefs from an alien star,
Set up their kitchen and called it "H.R."

Human Resources! Human Resources!
("Serving employees", the sign on our door says.)
Once you're all eaten our only remorse is,
We'll need a new source of raw human main courses.

"Reducing the staff" is a process by which,
They simmer and stir as they make gravy rich.
Don't be relieved 'cause it's me in this stew --
Right after lunch they'll start looking for you!

...Wonder if you would go well with this wine.
...Stuffed in a Mason jar, smothered in brine,
Vinegar, peppercorns, garlic, and dill.
You're in a pickle, when working "at will."

At will employee! At will employee!
(What is this "Union" you have to annoy me?)
If you have rights I can't cook and enjoy ye.
Why can't you see you're an ant hill employee?

Soon they'll be dining on ill-gotten gains,
Pepper-stuffed eyeballs and mock-tofu brains.
One thing consumes me... and fills me with dread,
They only want me for what's in my head.

All mankind's outlook appears pretty bleak,
If they can stay secret for just one more week.
The rest of their fleet will arrive in ten days...
"Till then they are pressing for signed N.D.A.s.

Signed non-disclosure! Signed non-disclosure!
(One thing we don't want is public exposure.)
Sign as we can you so we can feel closure.
Can't see how any would mind non-disclosure.

They say slugs like to hide out in slimy dark spaces.
The bottoms of logs are their favorite places.
Now Brothers and Sisters, come throw off this blight;
Kick their log over, expose them to light!

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