We've never "shifted gears, altered course, re-targeted our agenda or changed our vision." (Of course, neither do we know what the hell we are doing.)
Page 16 of 39
"Okay!" Let's see that resume in Geneva font," Stu squealed cheerfuly. He was now barechested. His skin is bright and pink and hairless. But the worst was his chest. I coud not look at him.
"Here's a resume secret--are you ready? Not ten, not twelve, but Eleven point type--no one uses it!" he gushed. Stu's familior smiling face was the same, but below the neck the lumpey hanging folds of dimply jiggley blubbor did not look real. It was if my freind did not exist from the jaw down. From the neck up it was the same old Stu. But hunched foward in front of me, he looked like he was resting his jowls on one of those humorous plywood cutouts that you see at carnivols. Stu's half-nakad body looked like a scratchy bootleg photo of a sloughterhouse hog hanging from one ankle on a conveyor belt in in a meat processing plant in a peice of printed literatture prepared by vegetarian extremists.
"Click here to close the documant," he said, leaning over, and when he did so his flopping pendulous mammaries brushed agianst my arm. I shuddored with queaziness.
"You allright?" Stu asked.
"I need some air," I said. I stumboled down the hall and heard a strange loud barking belowwing sound from far, far away, like that of a sad walrus's lammenting cries ovor the death of his mate. Of course it was the throaghty laugh of Cathyann -- from way, way far over by the cafeterria.
I walked over there. They were in the back pantry, both her and Tilde sittin on dirty looking masonite panels that sat atop stacks of cans of creamed corn. I coud not believe it, but now, more than two hours lator, she was still tellin her story about her and Duwayne.
"SO THAR WE WUZ, BASKING' IN THE AFTERGLOW OF LUUUUVE." Poor Tilde, sittin as daintily as she coud on the dirty flat cardboard looked at me painfuly, and holding a paper cup. A bottol of cooking wine, empty, laid on the floor. Cathyann, who was holdin anothor half-empty bottle in her left hand harshly grabbed Tilde's arm with her right and jerked it.
"YOU AINT GOIN' NOWHAR TILL I FINISH MAH STORY...BWAHAHAHAHA!"
Her voice was so loud and disturbing. She was very sweatty too from how hot it was in the building, plus seemed drunk.
"...SO, ANYWAYS, OLE DUUWAYNE LOOKS UP AT ME -- I CAIN'T EVEN B'LEEVE HE'S STILL ALIVE, BEINGS HOW LONG IT ALWAYS DONE TAKES HIM TO FINISH!"
"BUT ANYWAYS....WALTER, HAVE YOU BEEN EAVESDROPPING? WHAR YOU GOING? GIT YO' SKINNY ASS HERE!"
I knew I had to ask Cathyann somthing. I knew it was important. But I coud not remember what it was. I am realy acting foolish lateley. It is probly because of all the pressure I am under.
"...SO OLE DUWAYNE SAYS TO ME, (and now she puts on this deep voice monotone imitation), "'BABY. THAT WUZ THE BEST I EVER HAD.'
"AN' THEN AH SAID, 'I'LL TELL YOU WHUT, BUBBA: EVERY MAN I DONE EVER BEEN WITH SAYS THAT. AND IT CAIN'T BE TRUE...KNOW WHY?
CAUSE I AIN'T THAT GOOD! BWAHAHAHAH!
While Cathyann lauged and lauaghed Tilde wrinkled her brow and whispored to me, "Oh dear! I think I'm going to vomit!" and I scampored out and down the hall and back to Stu's office.
He looked up at me and apeared embarrased. Grey cardboard flecks stuck to the splotchy tomato sauce stains that ringed his cheeks.
Pausing he looked up at me, blinked and aped with deliberrate exageration the line from the TV ads:
"Domino Pizza: Whut you Craa-AAA-ve!"
I flopped down in one of his ofice chairs and held my head. Stu sat up on his hairless haunches, and quickley returned to his normal, smooth serious voice.
"Oh, hey," he said, gently stroking his pregnent looking belly, "Grampa called."
"He called YOU?"
"No, he called your cellphone. I saw it flashing and I picked it up on instinct You left it here when you walked out.
If it is not a call or beep or email from Granfather screamin at me, it is a call ABOUT granfather where somone else is screamin at me. I do not like all the new technollogies.
Stu told me that Granfather was pissed. The old basterd was calling to remind me to Not forget the freakin Zima this time.
Stu went on. Granfather desperattly needed the Zima in order to incappacitate Uncle Zeke, who had actualy just discovored the Magicol Miracle Floating Island of Metamucil.
Not that this is granfather's first "Floating marvel." (OK, that was gross. I will try to reffrain from making cheap toilet rellated metaphores.) (Yeah right).