Note that this is seriously demented nerdrage humor. Unless you're somewhat knowledgeable of database technologies (or at least absurdism) you'll probably be very lost and very confused. Database development work is a boring interest of mine. This sought to put a little humor behind it. I was laughing my ass off while writing it, and I suppose that's all that matters.
I'm a bit angry at this point. Max returned with nothing.
Just requesting it wasn't going to help. I'm going to have to retrieve a key.
I made a call to Bachman, who has no relation, and tried to get a union of the minds.
Max and Bachman discussed the tactic at length. They seeked and derived a plan.
In walks Cartesian (yes he's foreign) with a pervasive barrage of children.
I could barely constrain my composure, but managed to fire off a request for truce.
This was hashed out, granted, revoked and rolled back. I angrily scribed some notes in my growing log.
I needed coffee while I tried calling my parents. I ripped up my notes into torn pages. It was many to one.
Upon return I found them all set at one table holding a tiny sign with Suspect written on it.
I decided to ask the all-seeing oracle if I could dump this heap. She was busy merging with an entity on the couch.
I fell flat even after contacting Beap, and Treap. I was in a paradox with no backup plan.
Deadlocked between detachment or dumping acid on them, I just walked away without violating my integrity.
There's probably more to this, but, my friends I'm not that type of operator. There will be no sequel.