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The Summer 2001 Update

Page 33 of 50

The Steel Security Twine lock

The laptop came with this special peice of locking steel twine, and, trying very hard to ignore the prepponderance of bushy foliage that peeked up above the level of the desk as she sat at her cube, locked the laptop onto a length of fancy brushed metal piping that framed the wall of her cubicol. Finaly I snapped the lock shut.

It was Securrity Twine, and had this tiny combinnation lock in the center. It looked exactley like a bicycle lock exept it was much thinner, cause it was designed speifically to keep EXPENSIVE LAPTOPS from sprouting legs and walking away if you know what I mean.

Tilde starts to cry

Tilde was houmiliated when I put the lock on. She started whining that I do not trust her: but I said of COURSE I trust her, but the danm laptop is not paid for yet. Plus we are havin all these danm FIREDRILLS where no one is around. And there are allot of people in the compeny who dislike both her and me, and woud love to see her budget mysterriously have problems. Then she asked me for the Combinnation of the lock and I and not tell her, and as you coud imagine this made her cry more.

Well dammit by this time I needed a mental health break. I tromped over to Stu's office and just marched in without knocking.

Cathyann was already there

Stu has his quirks I suppose, but he is the strong one of our little clustor of four freinds. In a way, Stu is our naturol leader, and he takes care of us, (me, Tilde and Cathyann, the three biggest losers in Cyberblop), cause after all if he did not, no one else woud.

Cathyann too had gone in to see Stu because she having MORE romantic problems with her boyfriend DuWayne. She was flopped onto one of the chairs infront of Stu's desk. Stu was busy, and practicaly ignoring us as he was on the phone closing a hot deal.

No, not an Internet-rellated deal.

He was on the phone with the Thai food place ordoring another mess of hot spicy food. Cathyann was yammering on at him as if he was listening.

"Life in the fast lane ain't worth a danm when yer dating a road bump," she muttored contemptuously. I quietley sat in the seat next to her.

"All mah tantalizing feminine wiles cain't so much as git a twitch out o'that DuWayne," she snarled, leaning way way back to face up to the ceiling while scratchin her pink exposed belly with her dimpled fingers that didnt have no nails. As usual she was wearin her tube top, while her hotpants seemed to be riding lower than ever.

I coud swear that her and Tilde had a compettition going

Tilde had allot more growth, that was for sure, but Cathyann made up for it in increased LOWNESS of the lowridors. It was terrifyingly horrid to look at. (But yet, and any men reading will undorstand when I say this: totally impossible NOT to.) Cathyann also recently got a sunburst tattoo on her navel, the cheap black ink of which had almost imediatly begun to fade into a dull bluish green. Her ever-increassing girth distourted the belly button's size, stretchin the sunburst rays to make her navel appear like the big hairy butthole of a large hairless ground mammal. After a few minutes I made up my mind about the it: as bad as Cathyann looked, she still looked only half as ridicculous and downright prudish next to Tilde.

"Why a date with that boy is like a Weekend with Bernie ," Cathyann shifted from hip to ham, with every exposed flabbey wottle under limbs and neck shuddoring as she bucked in the chair. Her hands, cletched in a fist that looked like a tangle of plump turkey franks angrilly bent and squeesed the latest picture ID of the very inanimmate looking DuWayne.

"You wanna know how bad it is?" she snapped. Before I coud reply 'No thank you," Cathyann sat up, flipped over to me like a giant roast ox being turned on a grill, and landed with her elbows on my chest and her nose allmost touching mine. Right in my face she deadpanned , "The man fell asleep on top of me."

I tried to tell her that I was pretty sure she has already told me this before, but she interrupted, THAT'S how bad it is." And she flopped back into her own seat.

"I don't mind it much when he does it after the main atraction, and I supose once in a blue, I can live with him fallin' asleep before things git going. But that ol' lug's droppin' off to dreamland during the Feature Presentation, waal, that thar's a dagnab insult I'll tell y'all WHUT."

I listenned to Cathyann for anothor ten minutes or so. And just then...

There is yet anothor firedrill

It hapened right when the delivery guy walked in with all the hot spicy Thai food. The alarm buzzed and clanged and I haveto say these things were realy starting to annoy me.

It is like deJa Vu

My job sudenly felt like Groundhog Day, the movie. Because over and over the same things kept hapenning at work, WITH NO CHANGE: I am shocked by Cathyann's belly. I am repulsed by Stu's behavoir. I am ofended by Tilde's pain-in-the-assed-ness. There is a firedrill. I am reconciled with Stu. There is an Emergencey All-Hands Staff Meeting. We sit in Stu's office. I am re-horrified by Cathyann's even LOWER belly. Layoffs are threattened. Cathyann gripes about DuWayne. Stu grosses me out agian. There is anothor firedrill...You too have been reading this crap for 33 pages now, and are probly thinking the same thing...

...Howevor, I had this inkling kind of feeling that the spinning top of routine circomstance was about to get a sharp jarring that woud send it careening out of orbit into a new tragic tragictory...

It looked like rain was coming and I did not want to be standing outside for anothor half-hour firedrill. Me, Stu and Cathyann stayed behind, and we closed the blinds in the office so no one woud see us.

Stu tore into the food like, well, a pig. He has this cube refrigerator in his office, and in there he had a bunch of bottols of various hot sauces. Cathyann said, "Ain't that stuff hot enuogh for you?"

Stu repleid, "Nah, I'm hooked. The hotter the better." He plucked a whole pepper pod off the top of one carton, and gobbled it up. "Oooh! Mommy! It's releasing the pleasure hormones!," Stu swooned in extacy and said to Cathyann, "All I can say is, the way to a man's heart is to go strait to his stomach."

Cathyann said, "Talk about a straight line: You gonna burn a hole plumb down to yo' ass! BWAHAHAHA!"

Cathyann waited around a few minnutes till the building was evacuated. Then with a loud grunt she hoisted herself out of the chair and anounced she was off to the caffeteria kitchen to bring us a few cold beers from her stash of contraband alchohol (and perhaps a Zima or two if any were left).

Sudenly me and Stu are alone

"So. Walt. How's the family?" he said. Stu now had two chopsticks in each hoof and with his snout lain flat on the desk vigorousley shoveled in the hot food, which had been made extra hot from a bottol of chili sauce, all in a peppery mass toword his hungry gnashing mouth. His thick pig's tounge, covered with tiny white hairlike spikes, lapped hungrily with squealing whines of pleasure at the spattors of red sauce spilt on the fake wood surface of the desk.

I was begining to think he pulled the danm fire drill himself to make sure he got all the extra food.

I told him all about how Granfather was making drammattic improvement. Next while still slobboring in the food he asked about my folks who he hasnt seen in a while. Yes, Stu might be a pig, but he is a considerete person.

"How's Susie and your dad? Ever find that eyebrow of his?...Whoa! this meat is hot!" he oinked orgasmically. "Mind if I whip this shirt off?" I said no problem. In my last update I wrote about how Stu ofton takes his shirt off when he eats, at least when he is alone in his office, because he gets so hot. At first I found it repulsive, but like anything else in this world; (lets just say that if my danm nose can get used to the stink of Granfather, for cryin out loud I suppose I coud become accustomed to the sight of Stu's porcine D-cup male teats).

Not that seeing his bare boobs mattors: He danm sweats so much through his clothes anyway, so that even on a good day he looks like the grand prize winnor in an Ugly Lumpy Chick Wet T-Shirt contest.

Stu violently unbuttonned his shirt like an anxious clumsey teenage groom on his wedding night. But it was not lust that was to be satisfied: Only speed. The faster he got the shirt off, the soonor his snout woud be buried in the burning embrace of the spicy food.

"You know Walter, the way my sence of smell has come back, I tell you, its like a new lease on life. I supose I owe you an apology for the, uh, Pudding Incident."

I said to him, "That is OK, Stu. You already appollogized for that. I was most upset with you concerning your feelings abuot Junior."

I started to feel weird

It was a cosmic kind of wierdness. Like I had stepped out of my body, and heard myself speaking in a recording. I felt like somthing was going to happen any second to the Same Old Spinning Top of Circomstance... ...because somthing HAD to happen: And it was because of GRANFATHER. Yes, the stink of Granfather, now returned from the dead, woud spin fortune's wheel for me, and change this lockstep existence of happenstance in which I was trapped. Though he sat nearly 100 miles away, allmost totaly immoble and encased in whole in plastic laquer, The Yin of my worklife coud be changed, set off kilter, ONLY by the ghastley stench of his stinking Yang.
Or mabye even more so, his ass.

Finaly the shirt was off.

"Check it out Walt," Stu crooked his arm and pumped his fist, "Can you tell I've been working out?" The breast just below as he flexed danced like a pregnent blowfish agonizing at the end of a hook. I treid to look away.

"This Thai food rocks! My mouth's still on fire," he said "Where the hell is Cathyann with those cold brewskis? Well, in any case, I do have somthing nice and cold right here!"

Stu reached behind himself, tits-a-swingin and pulled out of his tiny cube refrigerater two small paper cups of cherry flavorred Italian Ice.

"Here take one, Walter. Remember this brand? Back in the Sixth Grade, after school, gettin' these down at the corner market? It's the brand with all that tastey red syrup stuck to the lid."

I was happy to take one. I began to feel nostallgic for my lost youth. It was a nice treat. Stu didnt have no spoons, so we squeazed the cups and slurped the stuff right out of them like a coupel of kids. Like we did years ago. Soon his lips and gums and snout were all stained a bright cherry red. I supose my mouth and tounge were also just as as red.

That danm ITCH again

I suddenly was getting that itch agian on the back of my neck. I had this strange feeling on and off for the past few days like a big leech or somthing was stuck there, just out of my reach: Yet another routine happenstance I was continually cought in.

Standing up quickley, I pulled my collor down and lunged for it.

"Gaddamn!" Stu whislted, "Did you see that?"

I screamed nervuosly, "What is it!" Stu narowed his tiny black eyes into deeper focus.

"Looks like you've got a wooly bear caterpillor or something on your neck....And I'll bet its suckin' the life blood out of...Walt....Walt! I was only kidding! Calm down!!"

But it was too late for me to be calm. I was already lurching arround the room, lunging agian and again, stumbling about spastically and before I knew it I'd tore my shirt almost completely off. It was a new yellow T-shirt I'd just boght when we were down in Mexico. I had worn it to work that day and earlier in the morning when I first arrived cought a glimpse of myself in the restroom mirror where to my shock I discovored that I had purchased this wrong shirt by mistake.

I thought the shirt read, "I Ate The Worm In Mexico" which means that you particippated in the very famous and touristy activity of eating the little worm in the bottom of the tequila bottle and there is a cartoon of a little worm on the shirt wearing a sombrero. But insted I hastily bought this similor looking shirt - a rude spoof of the "I Ate The Worm" shirt -- and it being too far for me to drive home and change, I simply turned the shirt on inside out before starting my shift. And in case you are interrested, this version of the shirt read: "I Burped The Worm In Mexico" which, rather than feature the festive activitty of consuming tequila is by contrast a rude simile related to selfgrattification used often though I'd never heard it before.

The shirt was now inside out, its collar clung tight on my head, just over my ears, as I thrashed in terror.

It was Horroble