It’s What I Do

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“Why are you constantly searching for loopholes?” the reporter asked.

“That’s my job, son,” the interviewee said. “I try to find where the other guy screwed up and exploit it when doing so is in the interests of my clients. And there are always loopholes.”

“And the other guy’s lawyers try to do that to you as well, huh?”

“Of course,” the law firm’s senior partner said. “But if I’m doing my job right, they won’t find any loopholes in my work products to exploit.”

“So you consider yourself to be a loophole expert?”

“Most definitely,” the attorney said, his voice full of pride. “My job is to search and destroy, to find the other guy’s weakness and capitalize on it. It’s what I do.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re an asshole aficionado.”

“You mean ‘loophole’ aficionado,” the lawyer said.

“If you say so,” the reporter said, turned off his recorder and thanked the attorney for his time.

Somewhat flustered by the abrupt end to the interview, the attorney said, “I’m looking forward to seeing the draft of your exposé before it’s published.”

“That’s not going to happen,” the reporter said. “I guess you missed that loophole when you signed the consent form for this interview. And as you said, ‘There are always loopholes.’”


Written for today’s one-word prompt, “loophole.”

Nicknames

Frank was walking the new hire, Hal, around the “bullpen,” which is what the large room with dozens of small cubicles that housed the coders was called. Frank pointed to a cubicle. “This is your home away from home, Newbee. Put your stuff down here and I’ll show you around your neighborhood.”

Hal followed Frank around the cubicles surrounding his assigned cubicle. “That’s ‘Stealth’ over there,” Frank said, pointing to a guy in the cubicle next to Hal’s. “We call him ‘Stealth’ because you never see or hear him coming and suddenly he is standing right behind you in your cubicle.”

Frank then called Hal’s attention to another cubicle. “That guy is ‘Stinky,'” Frank said. “He has a serious flatulence problem. You’ll want to avoid hanging out in his cube.” They walked to another cubicle where Frank pointed out a girl who he told Hal was called ‘Minty.’

“Why ‘Minty’?” Hal asked.

“You’ll need to have a roll of mints every time you have to talk to her. Make sure to ask her if she wants one. Otherwise, her bad breath will knock you over.”

“And we call her ‘Pigeon,'” Frank said, pointing to a rather matronly-looking older woman.

“Pigeon?” Hal said.

“Yeah,” Frank elaborated. “When she walks, she struts like a pigeon, her head bobbing back and forth while her big butt bounces behind her.”

“Do you have denigrating nicknames for everyone around here?” Hal asked.

“For most of them, yeah,” responded Frank. Hal wondered what nickname Frank would give him.

A little later that day, Hal was startled to find ‘Stealth’ standing behind him in his cubicle. “Oh hi,” Hal said. “Can I ask you a question? Frank seems to have nicknames for everyone who works here.”

“Yeah,” responded Stealth. “It’s really annoying.”

“Does Frank have a nickname?”

Stealth smiled, leaned in toward Hal and whispered, “Yeah. It’s ‘Asshole.'”


Written for today’s one-word prompt, “strut.”

Man of Action

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“I can’t stand it anymore,” I whispered to Jenny. “It’s like we’re watching one of those old Japanese monster movies from the 60s with really bad dubbing.” She shushed me.

“Synchronize the sound,” I screamed out at the top of my lungs, hoping that someone in charge would hear it. Startled, Jenny jumped and now everyone in the theater started shushing me.

Loud enough for all those shushers to hear me, I complained, “I paid good money to see this movie.” I got up and started heading down the row of seats, disturbing all those in my path.

“Where are you going?” Jenny asked.

“I’m a man of action,” I said and continued to work my way out of the auditorium.

I walked rapidly to the service desk next to the refreshments counter. An indifferent teenager looked up at me from his smartphone. “Yeah?”

“The audio soundtrack is out of sync with the picture in theater three,” I explained. “Can you get someone to fix it?”

“I dunno,” he responded. “It’s all computerized.”

“Well, put down your phone and talk to someone who can sync it up,” I demanded.

I headed back to the auditorium and worked my way back to my seat next to Jenny. “They’re going to take care of it.”

Just as I said that, the movie stopped, the lights came on, and a man walked to the front of the theater. “I’m sorry folks, but there is a problem with the sound. It’s an automated system, so we’ll have to wait for the engineer to get here. He should be here in about 15 minutes.”

There was a collective groan from the others in the theater and many turned toward me and gave me dirty looks. “Hey man of action, it was barely noticeable,” one guy said.

“You’re an asshole,” another yelled.

I started to respond, but Jenny grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my seat. “Let’s go,” she said, adding, “And that guy’s right. You are an asshole.”


Written for today’s one word prompt, “synchronize.”

On-the-Job Jealousy

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Walt walked into the office after lunch and immediately noticed the two floral arrangements sitting on his coworker’s desk.

“Who sent you flowers?” Walt asked Anna.

“Aren’t they beautiful,” Anna replied, blushing.

“Yeah, lovely,” Walt said sarcastically. “Who sent them to you?”

“My date from last night.”

Walt and Anna had been dating for a few months until Anna had to break it off due to Walt’s possessiveness and unbridled jealousy.

“Yeah? Did you have to give him a blow job to get those?” Walt asked Anna.

“Asshole!” Anna snapped.

“Whore!” Walt snapped back.

“You’re both fired!” snapped their boss.

(100 words)


Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers challenge from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

 

Right and Wrong

 

 

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“That’s not right,” she chided me. “You’re totally wrong.”

“Well, I may not always be right,” I freely admitted, “but I’m never wrong.”

A look of incredulity came over her face. “What? That makes no sense.”

“But I’m not wrong,” I responded. “Case closed.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? If you say you’re never wrong, then by definition, you are always right. So how can you say you’re never wrong while also saying you may not always be right?”

“Exactly,” I responded.

“What kind of response is that to what I just said?” she asked, anger starting to overtake her.

“It’s the right answer.”

“No, it’s not the right answer.”

“Who says what is right and what is wrong?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“That’s right.” I said. “End of discussion.”