As luck would have it, my personal secretary, Miss Cashtushy, is on vacation in Las Vegas this week. This wouldn’t be a problem under most circumstances — female workers are usually as interchangeable as the heads on my electric toothbrush, after all — but Cashtushy is no average woman.
For one thing, undressing her with my eyes (and well-hidden webcams in the women’s restroom) has become my favorite workday time-killer. For another, Cashtushy’s temporary replacement is quite possibly the most hideous woman I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. Words simply cannot describe her. A real crime against nature, if you ask me.
At any rate, the beast was perched at Cashtushy’s station like some kind of giant mutant spider when I arrived at work this morning, her veiny, hair-matted arms swinging wildly as she went about her business.
“Great Nixon’s Ghost,” I gasped as I approached her. “Is it Halloween already?”
“Good morning, Mr. Carver,” she croaked. “I’m Delores Finklebaum, from the administrative assistant pool. I’ll be filling in for Lauren while she’s on vacation.”
“There must be some mistake; I need a secretary, not a… what did you call it? Administering resistance?”
“Administrative assistant, Mr. Carver,” she said firmly. “‘Secretary’ is such an ugly, outdated word. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, well. If the shoe fits.”
“Nothing. Look, I’ll be in my office. Be a dear and go fetch me some coffee, would you?”
She chuckled at that. At least, I think it was a chuckle. If I weren’t there to witness it coming out of her mouth, I would’ve sworn it was the sound of a long-buried casket being slowly opened from the inside.
“Really now, Mr. Carver. What decade do you think this is? The coffee maker’s right down the hall in the break room whenever you’re ready for it.”
Cursing under my breath, I stormed past Finklebaum into my office.
“What was that, Mr. Carver?” she said.
“Jesus! I said ‘water plucking bunt!’ Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Good day to you!”
I slammed the door behind me and booted up the filthiest Internet porn I could find in an attempt to wipe the foul encounter from my mind, but to no avail. The worst part is, I’m going to have to put up with that withered shrew of a woman for the rest of the week. Oh well, at least Cashtushy will be back next Monday. Wish me luck.