The poll numbers and focus group reports are in: We stink!
Page 27 of 39
The meeting was suposed to be about tactics on how to save the Rent-A-Temp-Gal(tm) account. Insted alls it was, was a rambling monologe by Mr. Bouvard on "The importance of Collapsing the Supply Chain as B2B becomes B2C." The man had aparantly read somthing about it in the inflight magazine, which is a dangerrous thing.
Peaches, thruogh the whole meeting, kissed Bouvard's ass. Also in the meeting we were told to be Nimble, and Robust but especially Granular. Yes, seeking "granularity" was the new thing at Cyberblop. The clueless old fart didnt know what the hell he was talkin about.
I left Cyberblop at 3 PM giving myself allot of time for my 4 PM apointment for the drug screening. Like the jerk that I am, I left my leathor zip case that had an extra copy of my resume in it, in the caffeteria. The evil David Schwimmer lookalike told me I had to bring this allong to the drug test.
I ran down there to the cafeteria. The gate was alredy closing off the eating area, but my arm is skinny and I know how to unlatch it. I was dark in there but I coud see my zip case on a chair...opened!!!
I stourmed in there and saw a sliver of light from the back storage room. Yes, it was Cathyann. She was alone, and was sitting on a folding chair which sat on the threshhold of the doorway which led from the storage pantry into the big walk-in freezor.
Nobody knows why Cyberblop has such a big amout of refridgerators and freezers. I seem to remembor hearing that our building used to be owned by one of the many hi-tech medicol companies that went out of business in the early 90s.
Behind where Cathyann sat a bilowwing of white mist wafted in from the cold freezor into the warmer storage room. She looked up at me, and even in the cold, was covored with perspirration on her big sweaty face. And dammit to hell, my resume was in her hand.
"Howdy Walt. Its too cold inside, and too hot out, so I'm a straddlin the doorway! Just like youre straddlin' the truth on this here resume! BWAHAHAHA!"
I sprang to snatch it from her hand, but she pulled it away from me. With a mischevoius grin, she hopped up from the chair and backed into the freezer
"Dont blame me for sittin' on a couple o'frozen dinners: I had Mexican food last night, AND IT BURNS! BWAHAHAHAHA!
Her big plump foot tipped ovor a small blue cardboard carrier that held six empty bottols of Zima. She was drunk agian. I opened my mouth to say somthing but she kept yapping. Looky here, Walter: Our breath is all smoky from the cold." She breathed hard in my face: "HHHHHHHHH!!! Look at all that smoke in the dim light! It's like a Andrew Lloyd Webber thing! BWAHAHAHA!"
She pinned me to the wall with her beefy muttom leg forearms. She openned her mouth extremly wide to breathe in my face again, blowing in a double lungfull. "Look, I'll do it aginn, and you coud see all the fog up close."
"Walter, we have to talk. Me and you boy." I grabed for my resume again, but she pulled it away again. and I slipped on somthing and soon my face was inches from hers. She grinned at me.
"How bout a kiss, big boy!" she purred. Good lord NO, this was NOT going to happen. I finaly grabbed the resume and wheeled arround and slipped once more. It seemed like a teribble pain shot along the whole crown of my head. I felt so dizzy. Then a sharp pain blazed across my cheek. I was freezing. Actualy, I was freezing evereywhere, exept my head and my belly. Oh god, Junior's piss.
"Wake up!" Cathyann hollerd. Her face was once agian inches from mine, but this time, I was laying flat on the freezer floor. The pain in my cheek was her slappin my face. "Wake up! WAKE UP, WALTER!
I screamed, "I am awake!" She stopped, grinned agian, and them slapped me a few more times.
"Look! I'm Grampy! I'm Grampy slappin' Walter!"
Then she dived into this hiddeous, deadly acurrate impersonation of Granfather's voice as she screammed at me, and continued to hit me, "GIT ME MAH SMOKES, BWAH!
'FORE I BITCH SLAP YOUR SORRY ASS ALL THE WAY TO ARKYSAW! BWAHAHAHA!
"BOY, THAT WAS FUN! BWAHAHAHA!"
She reared up onto her legs, slipped, and then fell with the full weight of her belley straight onto mine. Oh God. Junior's wee.
"I KNOW whut your problem is Walter. I mean, OUR problem....Damn, mah head is pounding. I done found another case of Zimer in the pantry, and ever since, I tell you whut: I'm JONESIN' for the pissy ol' stuff! BWAHAHAHA!"
"Cathyann, I am late! I have to go!" I pleadded. My voice always sounds tinny and whiney when I am arguing with Cathyann.
"Wait, Walter. Hold up: Watch this. Watch this. Momma done showed me this last week:"
With a grunt Cathyann hoisted herself up quickley and stood at atention. Turning her body to the side in profile she bent slightley at the waist in sort of a crouch and farted. A jet of white steam puffed up behind her.
"Seen that? Smoke done come out mah ass. BWAHAHAHA!!!
A second later she did it agian, in a rat-tat-tat of vapor.
"Screw Grampy's Metamucil: This here's a REAL miracle..Here's another...hold up...hold....SIT YO'ASS DOWN, I AIN'T FINISH...
Cathyann paused. A look of shock spread on her wide face. "Whoops...Houstin, we have a problem: That's whut you git when you TRY too hard! A couple o'Raisinettes done came out! BWAHHAHAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHA!"
As I tried to escape agian she bolted foward and tackled me. Once agian she flopped on top of me. Her face grew closer. It was so close and distourted, like the security mirror on the ATM machine.
"I KNOW you, Walter. I KNOW your type. It's mah VOICE ain't it," she rasped. "Mah sexy, gravelly, purring smoker's drawl. Momma said I sound like Suzanne Pleshette."
Well, Cathyann did NOT sound like Suzanne Pleshette. Cathyann sounded like a post menopausol manatee with a dry bran muffin cought in its throat -- being skinned alive for its fur. She lunged agian, bitch slapped my face once or twice more, and shifted her weight to further immobolize me. She bit my neck, and then, then THEN...The Toungue came at me.