A New Age in AOSHQ

An age without Ace. Weird.

At the HQ right now, the vodka is just about gone, and Slublog and Dave are kickin' back, watching deviant porn on what Ace used to call 'the super-mini widescreen,' which is a 21 inch Magnavox manufactured in 1974. It renders all the flesh tones an angry red-purple color. Ace liked it that way.

Jack M. and Johnny Coldcuts are just getting done having some kind of a meeting in the bathroom, as usual. Coldcuts looks pleased. I'm starting to think that may not be mayo under Jack's lip.

But I have to do something about Giamboni. He dragged his desk right up next to mine on his first day back.

Every time I go to sit down he's got his hand waiting palm-up on the cushion. And I'm not crazy about his little pet names for me, such as 'Miss Pussycat,' 'Sugarbuns,' 'Hump buddy,' or simply, 'Cootch.'

Like this morning. He strolled up to me as soon as I came in, stirring some Monitor Lizard saliva into his coffee. "Top o' the mornin', Cootch!" he roared. Dave and Slublog giggled like little schoolboys, eyes pinned to bouncing purple midget flesh.

"Stop calling me 'cootch,' you fucking psychotic retard," I reasoned. "If Ace were here, he-"

I had to stop there.
It's not really all that different around this place, to tell the truth.

posted by Laura. at 10:15 AM

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