...or 13 really really good ones.
Page 17 of 50
Beads of sweat circoled her forhead like a sparkling crown. The pink flesh of her huge meaty thighs and belly (and MORE), all exposed NOW MORE THAN EVER by those Britney Spears/Jaylow hip huggers-cut down-to-hotpants were flushed with two red wide swaths from bein pinched between the seats as huffing and heaving with deep gasps she struggoled to make her way to the empty seat next to Tilde.
"Come on, 'yall! Make room!" she bleated.
By the way when I say things about Cathyann's body being all blubbory and such, please understand that I do so only because her body is all hangin out. Cathyann CAN wear clothes that more flattor her figure better. In fact, The Woman of I am in Love with, NiNi, my former counselor is on the plump side, and SHE does not wear low riding hip hugger Britney Spears hotpants and see-thru tube tops that you can see thru when you JUST DONT WANNA.
There is a time and a place to wear clothes like this. And that place is consistently at least 100 miles away from CATHYANN.
Well anyway I was very pissed to learn that me AND Tilde were both on the task force. Stu is the Team Leader of the task force, and we are to have 3 meetings a week in his office. Then it was time for questions.
One guy, (also on the Morale For The Millenium task force) publically asked if task force members (only because the task force was such a high priority of upper Management) woud be exempted from the Survivor style firings. The Lady Who Screams at Everyone responded, (screaming) that, No as a mattor of fact, your ass was in just as much danger.
I coud not help but look over to Stu who was flashing me a big tuskey smile, the biggest smile Id seen on him since back in Mexico when breifly thoght he'd be able to eat Junior. Stu gave me the thumbs up. Surely Stu (who is one of the most influential people at Cyberblop) pulled strings to get me (and Tilde) on this danm task force.
"How bout it?" Stu squealed with delite, "I got you on my task force. You can thank me whenevor you get the chance!"
I said, "Stu, this is terrible. Task forces suck." He looked back at me suprised and chewed his lip. "Walter, this is the best one of all. It's a plum! We have a budget, man! They have to feed us every time we meet. We can even throuw a party, dude. With booze, eats, a band, you name it!"
"So y'all is on a task force," Cathyann frowned contemptuously, "Ain't y'all NICE, and PURTY and IMPORTANT. 'Course, I'm just a cafeteria worker. So y'all don't need ME on yer old task force." she said bittorly. Cathyann was evidentley hoping someone woud invite her to join the task force. But no one did.
Cathyann defiantly slid down in her seat, slinking low, like some embarased 18-year old deadbeat dad hiding undor a baseball hat sittin deep in an armchair on the stage of the Jerry Springer Show while gettin chewed out by the host, the audience and his two ex wives each of which was bigger than the pickup truck he drives but cant make the payments on.
Cathyann's feelings were hurt. She slunk so low in the seat that her bare belly rose up nearly as high as her head. I was the first to say somthing comforting to her, but as I openned my mouth to whisper...
"Walter," she loudly scolded. "WALTER MILLER. Are you lookin' at mah bikini fringe?"
Nervuosly I said, "What? NO. No I am not."
She snarled back, "Yes you ARE, you nasty boy."
She started shakin her finger at me, and barked loudly, "That's sexual HARRasment. I said HARRassmant, you hear me, boy?"
Tilde butted into the situation as she usualy does She patted Cathyann's arm and said, "No dear. It's pronounced: Harr ASS ment."
"Naw it AINT," Cathyann countered, now loudor than ever, "Harr ASS ment is when a man looks at yo' ASS. Whut HE's lookin' at aint mah ass."
The Lady Who Screams at Everyone noticed what was goin on and she directed her screams at us. "You four there, in that back row! Stop those hijinks!" she hollored.
"Y'all hear that?" said Cathyann, sudenly changing her tone. "She done used the word too! HAH--Jinks! Mah favorite word in the world. BWAHAHAHAHA!
"We said 'Heads up,' you big baby," they snarled. "That means you're about to get hit in the head, you dumbass."
I cannot stand these guys. They are the ones who keep the systems going here, and in adition to, like, makin a hundred grand a year, they are alloud to play freakin games most of the day in the hall. They are mean to everyone, they especialy treat ME badly, they act like they are never goingto get fired, and even if they do they can get a bettor job. It is not fair.
It is not my African violat plant, but belongs to the person sittin next to me, (because you are also aloud to bring your own friggin plants to work) and in case your wondering the danm cat belongs to somone two floors up for Godsake. I checked my phonemail and began sneezing violently cause there was clumps of cat hair everywhere and I am extremly allergic.
I began to trembol with rage. The thought of this disgousting creature, running free, slinking allong on the inch-and-half wide maze of interlocking cubicol walls, then lifting his tail and pointing his ass at a pot that sat just inches from my head to cut a dump, well, the whole thing was just as deppresingly unapettizing as I coud imagine, but not so nearly as bad as when just then to calm myself down I took a swig of my tea that had been sittin there next to my mousepad and found out much too late that one turd that was meant for the Africen violet plant had rolled the wrong way off target and fell right in my cup.