In a bizarre, slightly terrifying, yet oddly liberating turn of events, it appears our editor has been devoured by a grue. A grue, for those in the blissful cocoon of ignorance, is a monster from the folklore of the '80s text-based adventure game Zork. Picture a shadowy beast that lurks in the darkness, its characteristics ambiguous and its intentions all too clear.
Arriving at work, I was met with an eerie quiet that seemed to focus specifically on the Editor's corner. His desk was ominously silent, the stack of paperwork, usually teetering on the brink of catastrophe, was undisturbed. His chair, perennially spinning due to his constant swivels to berate and motivate us writers, was still, pointing me towards the half-full cup of cold coffee.
Investigating further, a scribbled note caught my eye. In the typical jumbled scrawl that usually signaled another round of edits and revisions was all too familiar. But the content—that was something different. 'The Grue got me... align left!' it read. A chilling message from the netherwordly beast or the last remnants of his editorial commandments, we can never be sure.
One might imagine that the sudden, carnivorous displacement of our Editor would plunge our office into chaos. Surprisingly, the opposite occurred. Amid the snorts of suppressed laughter and poorly concealed relief, there was an unexpected unity among our ranks. Everyone wrote what they wanted to write, in the style they wanted to write in. Something akin to democracy had taken over 'The Wibble' news room.
So really, the grue's supposed horrific act resulted in a burst of creativity unlike any seen before. Articles flowed like a bloated river after a rainstorm, funny and entertaining without having to cater to the whims of a manic pedant. Our office became a safe haven for creative expression, celebrating diversity and individuality. Whether a desirable outcome or not, the grue's feast invariably liberated us.
