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While the managing editor of The Goliard was futilely trying to collect enough material for the current issue, there was a sudden surge of excitement in the newsroom as an unexpected movie review came rolling in via email from Mr. Atwater. 

"It'll have to do" was the collected opinion, since no one else had even been to the movies lately. Stupidly, a voice in the corner from behind a tattered American Orchid Society Bulletin was heard to say, "hey, where is he anyway?" 

"Excellent question!" Said the editor, furiously beating on his keyboard.

"I want something on my desk by next Tuesday - 6 AM!" 

Following some unprintable comments from behind the photo of "Dendrobium Tie-Dye", the magazine was put aside, and the search for Mr. Atwater begun. A shuffling of papers and scrolling through old emails for a clue to his where-abouts ensued, and a hearty laugh was enjoyed by all when a errand boy claimed to have seen a photo of him on the internet from the last Drop Dead Festival held in Philadelphia. "I don't know what's funnier - Atwater in leather and a Mohawk, or the suggestion that Atwater would dare go back to the City of Brotherly Love" - Anyone not in on that particular story will just have to use their imagination, as everyone in attendance had been sworn to secrecy under the threat of having their actual high school GPAs sent to their paying employers. Repeated emails to the contributor in question were ignored, though this was not surprising as they were all sent in the span of about 20 minutes, and to random addresses pulled from the Scottish History online Guest Book. 

"GET OUT OF HERE ALREADY" shouted the only person actually working, and after taking the last cold Ipswich Ale out of the fridge, the hunt began. Starting the trail at the last known sighting of Mr. A - the only Chuckie Cheese in Peru, we were informed by the staff member stamping hands at the door "ches, I see Meester Atwater here just last month, he ate two peezas and a peetcher of Dr Pepper, and left mumbling Maggie Maggie Maggie." The astute follower of the Atwater saga will recall that when Mrs. Atwater decided to leave she took not only The Movie Man but also her Visla Maggie. A quick booting of the computer, a satellite uplink, and google search of "Maggie the Visla" first took us back to our own website, and suggested that just maybe we were spelling Vizsla incorrectly. We next found that Maggie of Michigan is obviously too young to be the correct Maggie, that Maggie is a very common name not only for Vizslas but also their owners, and that there are way to many websites about hunting breeds out there. Doggedly we continued until a thread led us to continue the quest in Atlanta. There we found that we had just blown our expense account for the next three years, but at least we found an excellent pair of yellow Capri pants at the Atlanta Underground Mall. You know, the kind with the embroidery around the hems - and in the exact same pink as the sleeveless sweater and cardigan twin set from the Talbot's sale, the sweater that really brings out the color of our eyes so we get free drinks in airport bars - oh yeah - Atwater. So he wasn't in Atlanta, apparently hadn't ever been there, and if only we'd checked our voice mail messages before we left we would have known he'd decided to go to Ipanema to become a professional Samba instructor.

Link to original story about The Atwaters