professionalism - episode #4
diamond matches…the big red white and blue box, strike on the side…sounded like about a quarter of the box remained.
“look at this shit,” quoth the doktor.
and i did. the director of personnel had hung a banner across the windows of the break room…dedication to excellence it read in foot high letters and included a picture of her ugly bull-head and torso, locked in an arm-and-arm embrace with everybody’s favorite american president, yours and mine, give it up y’all…george dubya bush!
“nice.”
“why is this here? there is absolutely no reason why that cunt rag needs to have her head…and will you look at that imbecile…”
the doktor was over on the other side of the room, pouring copious amounts of sugar and artificial sweeteners into a special “homebrew” coffee.
i lit a match.
“…sanctity of the workplace…”
i held it as it started to burn.
“…seig heil…”
let it burn…
“…emperorish…”
i held it to the corner of the banner, near the company logo.
“…socio-economic divisions…”
“dok,” i said, as the heat from the match spread an inch or so into the paper banner. no flame yet, just an orange glow that ate at it and left pieces of gray ash to float in the air, fall to the floor.
“…raging drug habit…”
“yo…i’m a total pyro, dude…”
“…syria…”
“hey…”
“...and don’t get me started on…what the fuck are you doing?”
i blew a few puffs of air onto the burn…flames now…half-tried to put it out…complete surprise as they leapt higher onto the banner…a perverse joy…
it must have been the smoke that finally knocked me out of it. i picked up the company protocol manual and began to beat at the flames, but they only rose higher, spread wider. nearly a third of the banner was on fire and i worried [a little] about the fire alarm and the sprinklers that would soon be raging. i yanked the banner to the floor…tried to stomp on it…
“jesus christ, dude, i had no idea…”
“it’s paper!”
“man, i burnt half the hair off my hand…check it out…”
the doktor had no time for such trivialities. he half-folded, half-balled the smoldering banner and threw it into the sink and turned the water on.
“holy shit!”
all i could do was laugh. i didn’t fully appreciate the gravity of the situation until the dok thrust a plastic dish container into the sink to suffocate the fire. flames shot out of all sides as the air was forced down. he leaned back in a hurry to avoid the heat, and i thought about how frighteningly funny he would look without eyebrows.
but with that, sadly, the fire went out.
the room was full of a gray, acrid smoke. black water covered the counter top and splattered the floor.
“what the fuck were you thinking?”
“i had no idea it would flame up so fast.”
“no idea?”
“that was awesome. did you see how fast it went up?”
“PAPER!”
"yeah, dickhead, i know it was paper, but i didn't think..."
"ASSHOLE! PAPER!"
“where are some napkins or something…paper towels…”
the dok stuffed the dripping, burned up piece of fuck into the trash can while i went and opened some windows.
“wow…that was funny,” i said.
“yeah…a real riot…get some of those…”
i wiped off the counter top and the floor and the dok got busy on the sink. about an inch or two of black water and bits of ash and black paper filled the basin…smoke all around…
the door opened.
“john? my lord! what happened in here?”
zounds! an intruder, a stranger, an outsider! this is not for your eyes! think fast…be ready…deflect all inquiries with a plausible denial…they’ll have my head for this!
the doktor yelled, “el ratón,” and spun around with a butter knife in his hand. he blocked her path into the room for a moment, and then backed away slowly with a steely eye fixed on her jugular.
…well…shit my pants and deal with it…
“oh hi vera…hello...hey...what’s up?”
“what happened in here?” she asked. i didn’t know for sure how to answer that, so i didn’t.
“what happened in here?” the doktor said, “ask this one!” and he pointed in my direction.
“me? don’t ask me…i’m just cleaning up.”
“oh you guys…” and she began to prattle on about some meeting she was scheduling and i needed to be there and some other nonsense…i remained congenial and nodded when appropriate…all the while, the doktor made wild stabbing motions behind her back with hands blackened from the paper dye.
every few sentences or so, she would stop and cast a wary eye at me and then to the doktor. i could see the little hamster wheel turning. i think she wanted to know what happened, but there was no way someone like that could have gotten their head around it. better for her to worry about the collection box at the church and running a tight ship and keeping coloreds out of her neighborhood. creep in your petty pace.
“did you guys start a fire in here or something?”
“cysts, woman,” the doktor yelled, “on the walls of your lungs,” he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around…“is that what you want?”...he pointed her towards the door…“this place was packed with mold…”
like a mouse…“what?”
“lethal fungus…from the drip pan of the refrigerator...maybe the drain...jesus christ...who even knows?” the doktor was pushing now and her small rat feet were scurrying to the door, shuffling her into the hallway. “the place was packed with it i tell you…we had to fumigate.”
“my dear.”
“PACKED i said…like a condom!”
“oh my.”
and with that, the door closed.
“look at this shit,” quoth the doktor.
and i did. the director of personnel had hung a banner across the windows of the break room…dedication to excellence it read in foot high letters and included a picture of her ugly bull-head and torso, locked in an arm-and-arm embrace with everybody’s favorite american president, yours and mine, give it up y’all…george dubya bush!
“nice.”
“why is this here? there is absolutely no reason why that cunt rag needs to have her head…and will you look at that imbecile…”
the doktor was over on the other side of the room, pouring copious amounts of sugar and artificial sweeteners into a special “homebrew” coffee.
i lit a match.
“…sanctity of the workplace…”
i held it as it started to burn.
“…seig heil…”
let it burn…
“…emperorish…”
i held it to the corner of the banner, near the company logo.
“…socio-economic divisions…”
“dok,” i said, as the heat from the match spread an inch or so into the paper banner. no flame yet, just an orange glow that ate at it and left pieces of gray ash to float in the air, fall to the floor.
“…raging drug habit…”
“yo…i’m a total pyro, dude…”
“…syria…”
“hey…”
“...and don’t get me started on…what the fuck are you doing?”
i blew a few puffs of air onto the burn…flames now…half-tried to put it out…complete surprise as they leapt higher onto the banner…a perverse joy…
it must have been the smoke that finally knocked me out of it. i picked up the company protocol manual and began to beat at the flames, but they only rose higher, spread wider. nearly a third of the banner was on fire and i worried [a little] about the fire alarm and the sprinklers that would soon be raging. i yanked the banner to the floor…tried to stomp on it…
“jesus christ, dude, i had no idea…”
“it’s paper!”
“man, i burnt half the hair off my hand…check it out…”
the doktor had no time for such trivialities. he half-folded, half-balled the smoldering banner and threw it into the sink and turned the water on.
“holy shit!”
all i could do was laugh. i didn’t fully appreciate the gravity of the situation until the dok thrust a plastic dish container into the sink to suffocate the fire. flames shot out of all sides as the air was forced down. he leaned back in a hurry to avoid the heat, and i thought about how frighteningly funny he would look without eyebrows.
but with that, sadly, the fire went out.
the room was full of a gray, acrid smoke. black water covered the counter top and splattered the floor.
“what the fuck were you thinking?”
“i had no idea it would flame up so fast.”
“no idea?”
“that was awesome. did you see how fast it went up?”
“PAPER!”
"yeah, dickhead, i know it was paper, but i didn't think..."
"ASSHOLE! PAPER!"
“where are some napkins or something…paper towels…”
the dok stuffed the dripping, burned up piece of fuck into the trash can while i went and opened some windows.
“wow…that was funny,” i said.
“yeah…a real riot…get some of those…”
i wiped off the counter top and the floor and the dok got busy on the sink. about an inch or two of black water and bits of ash and black paper filled the basin…smoke all around…
the door opened.
“john? my lord! what happened in here?”
zounds! an intruder, a stranger, an outsider! this is not for your eyes! think fast…be ready…deflect all inquiries with a plausible denial…they’ll have my head for this!
the doktor yelled, “el ratón,” and spun around with a butter knife in his hand. he blocked her path into the room for a moment, and then backed away slowly with a steely eye fixed on her jugular.
…well…shit my pants and deal with it…
“oh hi vera…hello...hey...what’s up?”
“what happened in here?” she asked. i didn’t know for sure how to answer that, so i didn’t.
“what happened in here?” the doktor said, “ask this one!” and he pointed in my direction.
“me? don’t ask me…i’m just cleaning up.”
“oh you guys…” and she began to prattle on about some meeting she was scheduling and i needed to be there and some other nonsense…i remained congenial and nodded when appropriate…all the while, the doktor made wild stabbing motions behind her back with hands blackened from the paper dye.
every few sentences or so, she would stop and cast a wary eye at me and then to the doktor. i could see the little hamster wheel turning. i think she wanted to know what happened, but there was no way someone like that could have gotten their head around it. better for her to worry about the collection box at the church and running a tight ship and keeping coloreds out of her neighborhood. creep in your petty pace.
“did you guys start a fire in here or something?”
“cysts, woman,” the doktor yelled, “on the walls of your lungs,” he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around…“is that what you want?”...he pointed her towards the door…“this place was packed with mold…”
like a mouse…“what?”
“lethal fungus…from the drip pan of the refrigerator...maybe the drain...jesus christ...who even knows?” the doktor was pushing now and her small rat feet were scurrying to the door, shuffling her into the hallway. “the place was packed with it i tell you…we had to fumigate.”
“my dear.”
“PACKED i said…like a condom!”
“oh my.”
and with that, the door closed.
Johnny St. Clair wuz here at 11:58 PM
3 Comments:
as i became more comfortable on the court, i became more "clyde," the well-dressed man-about-town.
~ johnny clyde
As Johnny came in he muttered something like...
"Alright.
I Got somethin to say.
Meeew mw mw mw mw mw.
Its better to buuuuurn out
than to fade away.
mw mw mw mw mw mw
Alright."
Can't remember the rest of it, but it went on for a minute or so. My trusty recorder just happened to be running, so as soon as I can get it back from the Mounties, I'll relay the whole message to you.
Dr Juicy Toes Johnson
i am the god of fire in hell!
~ johnny blaze
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