Leon2

Margery:What part are we talking about here? Because I’d bite a cheek, but I’m not so sure about licking or eating.

For the record, Margery is fifty-eight years old and a grandmother of thirteen.

Darby:Whoa! Uhhh, okay, someone asked me how I handle him. Let’s go with that before we get off track. It’s not so bad. He drinks expensive coffee that I have to get from this coffee shop located a ten-minute drive away, but I pick it up on my way to work now, so it’s no biggie. He likes the beans from there and only from there. But I’m not complaining. He’s just like everyone else. He always has a huge list of things that need doing. It keeps me busy, which is good. He gets his clothes dry cleaned and needs to send emails and have his phone answered like anyone else. He’s really not that scary. Although he can be seriously foul at times, I’m sure it’s not very fun for him if no one reacts.

She’s far too diplomatic, this woman who I’m going to try and convince to be my wife to save my ass from having to leave this country. She’d probably argue and talk me out of deportation if I dragged her down to the immigration offices.

Amanda:He walks around like a dragon most of the time, breathing fire all over the place. I’m surprised your bottom hasn’t been roasted yet. Don’t get too close to the flames. One day, you might get burnt.

Very good advice, Amanda from marketing. Very good advice.

Jane:Have you ever spat in his coffee? I wouldn’t be able to resist. Hot or not, I mean, he’s still an asshole.

Darby:Nah. Spitting makes me feel sick.

Amanda:Good call. He probably has someone to taste test his coffee to make sure it hasn’t been poisoned.

Jane:I would find a way to get back at him. Like rub insulation in his dry-cleaned shirts so that when he puts them on, he gets itchy.

Darby:I would have to buy the insulation then. That seems like a lot of effort.

Amanda:You’re so unflappable. I wish I could be like you. One single look from Lord Poo is enough to make my bones go cold. Have you noticed his eyes? They’re messed up. No one has eyes like that.

Jane:I think his eyes are nice, but the pupils are a little off. Kind of creepy.

What the fuck? How could they have noticed my eyes?I’m pissed now, grabbing the edge of my desk. I want to walk out there and give a lecture on the effects of living with chronic pain, but that would just reinforce their negative image of me. Sensitivity training would be more useful. I make a mental note to schedule a course for the entire office. It would be delightful to take screenshots of this chat and use them as examples, even though I won’t. I don’t like to talk about what’s going on with me, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who is on the receiving end of some not-so-nice comments in this place, and it should stop. Immediately.

Amanda:His eyes probably get that way from all those puppies he eats for dinner and the blood of the innocents he drinks. He has a diet that keeps him fit.

Some of my anger evaporates. This just turned out to be quite amusing.

Darby:I actually think he might have something wrong with him. Haven’t you ever really thought about why he pulls the shades over his windows? Like the light bothers him? Or triggers something? Maybe he has seizures, and he doesn’t want anyone to know. I’ve never picked up medication for him, but he’s not the kind of person who would ever ask me to do that.

For the love of shit tarts.Shit tarts, I imagine, are the nasty kind with raisins in them. Or, well, anything with raisins, for that matter. Anyway, Darby is probably the only one who doesn’t need to go to sensitivity training.

It’s time to break up this chat before Darby gets any closer to the truth. Although I must say, the fact that she doesn’t rise to the garbage that everyone else throws out there touches something in the cold, dead, frosty ass parts of me. At least she doesn’t think I’m a puppy eater. I don’t like dogs, but I would never, ever harm an animal. That’s just terrible. And disgusting. And disturbing.

Amanda:Don’t feel sorry for him. He doesn’t have any feelings of any kind. He is cold and dead inside. Worse than a corpse. A real, living vampire.

Jane:He raged on the marketing department because they messed up a single word in the slogan he wanted for that company that makes shoes. The room was lethal. Chad was in there, and he told me after that he just about wet himself.

Darby:To be fair, it was a lot of money wasted. He didn’t have to shout like that, but those fliers had to go out the next day, and there wasn’t time to reprint ten thousand of them. It sucked. And it wasn’t a word they got wrong. It was the spelling of that company’s name.

Amanda:I think he preys on the innocent. He finds these corporations and swallows them up, then he turns around and ‘makes them better’ for more profit. He’s basically buying and flipping houses, except he’s buying and flipping businesses. It’s kind of heartless and gross.

Darby:He does make money off it, yes, but so does everyone else. We all work here because of what he does. He doesn’t prey on anyone. A lot of people come to him. Well, us. To us as a company. Their businesses are failing, and they need help turning things around. He doesn’t gouge anyone, and unlike most places that do what we do, those companies retain control of their business.

Jane:You’re not very fun. What’s gossip Wednesday without gossip?

Darby:Sorry. I just work with him too closely, and he’s too human. Mean? Sometimes. Getting coal in his stocking every year? Abso-freaking-lutely. He can be a straight-up bossy, assy, bosshole, but all the other stuff? Nah. Not buying it.

Amanda:Have you noticed that his hand is sometimes weird?

Jane:No. Like how?

Amanda:I don’t know. Never mind. Anyway, Darby, you’ve had his car cleaned before. Ever found any evidence of crimes in there? Like bodies?

Darby:I take his car to be cleaned once a week at least, whether it needs it or not. I’ve never found any bodies in it, and I have to vacuum it out, so I’d find them if they were there.