16 minutes to go...
...Blast and damn! The Supervisor found me in my hidey-hole! Snarling, she sprang upon me, determined to take me back to a cubicle, there to rot. I would surely be there now, flinching like a wounded dog at every shrill scream of the phone had I not been able to blind and confuse the Supervisor with a fax confirmation and a cry of "Is this yours? It says 'Urgent'!" Baffled, she clutched at the paper to peruse it and in the interval I managed to slip away.
But the mules and supplies had to be left behind. I have only my staple remover, a disposable lighter and my wits to guide and protect me.
What is this? An emergency evacuation map! Perhaps I am yet saved. Which stairwell am I near? The "You are Here" dot has been defaced...I shall have to do some scouting.
2 minutes to go...
...this may, perhaps, be my last entry. If any should find my bod and read this, know that I went with as much dignity as I could muster while wearing a loincloth made of a polo shirt and held on with a length of printer cable.
The door to the parking lot stands near. I shall make my move as soon as the District Manager leaves the break-room. Will the cursed man ever finish putting Sweet and Low in his coffee?
He's moving! He's gone! Now! NNNNOOOWWWWW!!!....
It was a long trek, and at the end of it, we couldn't say if it was a success. Oh, we found traces of our quarry--gibbering supervisors, staples strewn acros the landscape--but never a confirmed sighting.
We heard his cry--"Send me ho-o-ome!"--through the gloom, but he's a wily creature, that geek in the mist.
If only he had a Great Dane to carry him home!
"The Last Camel Died at Noon" (by Elizabeth Peters)
One of her better titles.
I have a Trader Joe's Egg Salad Sandwich AI..just OK. My parsnip chips however,
are
fucking great.
So. Much. Freaking. Snow.
{{{{JZ}}}} You and Hec are incredibly compassionate and generous. I wish you every piece of work~ma I have as you figure this all out.
MM makes me laugh. A lot. I needed that. Thanks.
