“Five Briefs – IV” / A Memorable Fancy #373

And we did work harder, under threat that the motivational speaker would come back and we’d have to listen to his bullshit all over again.

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The boggle-gun takes aim at my mind.

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John collected paintings of nudes. His pleasure was to expose himself in front of them, look for their reactions, their frowns, their disgusted gasps. Not getting any reaction, he painted clothes on them. So there.

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My co-workers are aliens. Not that kind, I mean Martians or something. I can tell: they know things I don’t; the boss smiles at them; they go out for drinks together; they get promotions.

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In the bookstore, two copies of the same book meet with awkward courtesy, as if each has run into its ne’er-do-well brother-in-law. Each expresses sympathy for the coffee stain that’s reduced the other’s market value, although nothing like a ruined cover or missing page. They confess their fear of being remaindered, their mutual hatred of the author.

 

 

 

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