1st place in Derby #448: Code Warriors with 174 votes!
You wake up and find that the cat, sometime in the night, has slept on your keyboard and inadvertantly written an app that will change the world. What it's for does not matter. Point is, this is big. So you copyright it and pitch it to investors, and holy crap, they're fighting each other to fund the thing. Literally, fighting. Like, at the presentation one potential investor straight up punches another potential investor in the face. A few potential investors are hospitalized in the ensuing melee. This isn't a bad thing. In fact, it leaks to the press, and so your app gets even more attention. And what's even better: it lives up to the hype. You make a fortune. Everyone thinks you're the greatest programmer of the mobile era.
And therein lies the problem: you don't know a thing about programming. And now people are knocking on your door and asking you to speak at conferences, trying to get you to do some consulting work, all that stuff. They're pretty much throwing suitcases of money at you, but what are you supposed to do? You can't help anyone with programming. In fact, back before the app, you had to hire a college kid just to make the Wordpress site for your house and pet sitting service. Which brings up another moral dilemma: the cat that sat on the keyboard and created your app doesn't even belong to you. You're a millionaire and you can't point to a single thing you've actually done yourself.
But now it's a year later. People want to know what you have planned for the app, what new features they might expect in the update. Update? Yes, update. Well, how the heck are you going to roll that out? You can't hire a team. If someone finds out you were such a hack, you'll everything. So you do the only thing you can do. You go back to the cat's house - well, the owner of the cat's house - and ask to spend the night. The guy seems a bit put off at first, but when you take out the wad of bills, he complies, sets you up in the guest bedroom. You leave your laptop open again, just like before, and in the middle of the night, you hear the cat come in, make its way up onto the desk. What's it going to do? Is this the salvation you hoped for? Or will you wake to find a screen filled with incomprehensible nothing, just random letters and numbers stretchingg across a document?
You'll just have to wait until morning to find out.
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