I had to fire my secretary this morning. Veronica, I said, Veronica goddammit I needed that grouping of important papers on my desk by eight. Sure she cried and pleaded, and I felt bad. Not for her, but because I've recently started taking my tea with honey drawn from the glistening combs of Peruvian Killer Honeybees and it's wreaking havoc on my lower intestine. So Veronica, I said I said, Veronica, you can cross those legs and bat those sublime eyelashes all you want, but this time I mean it. That grouping of important papers, nay, that malignant sprawling mass of memos and notes and briefings needed to land on my desk my polished dustless mahogany slab by eight so that it could land on Mr. Hirohito's King-Shit slab by tomorrow. And there is no grouping on my desk, Veronica, there is no unformed papyrus jungle en masse on my slab, which means that there will be none on Mr. Hirofuckinghito's slab, either. [My lower intestine makes a groaning, pleading noise. It is protesting.] So, Veronica, I said, Veronica if I keep you on despite your inability to shuffle papers around the globe I will quite swimmingly lose my facade my appearance my affectation of the Duke of this court. I will no longer be the High-and-Mighty King Fuck of this Hill. I will be crucified by your incompetence and a crown of post-its will be placed upon my hanging, sallow, head. So you're through. Get out. And stop blinking like that.
She was a good kid.
Okay, journal-patrons, you verbal transients, you. Let's open up, shall we? Black Soul Confession Time.
What's the meanest thing you've ever done? We're talking spite, here. Manipulative, reckless, vengeful, conniving, backhanded. And for the sake of creativity, that winged autist floating through the clouds, I want to know the one purely evil thing that you expended the most energy on, just for the purpose of being mean?
Okay class - hit me! Show and tell starts now.....