Monday, May 16, 2005
Saturday, May 14, 2005
The Corporate Lord's Prayer
Our chiefest of chief executive officers,
who art in the 33rd floor boardroom
Hallowed be thy synergy.
Thy R&D come.
Thy downsizing iniatives be done,
In accounts receivable as it is in human resources.
Give us this day our daily action items.
And forgive our team its fiscal irresponsibility,
As we forgive those who don't think outside the box.
And lead us not into an economic downturn,
But deliver us from the left-wing media and environmental protection groups.
For thine is the fast track to an integrated solution,
and major accounts acquisitions,
and the growth industry,
for the second and third quarters.
Amen.
Hallowed be thy synergy.
Thy R&D come.
Thy downsizing iniatives be done,
In accounts receivable as it is in human resources.
Give us this day our daily action items.
And forgive our team its fiscal irresponsibility,
As we forgive those who don't think outside the box.
And lead us not into an economic downturn,
But deliver us from the left-wing media and environmental protection groups.
For thine is the fast track to an integrated solution,
and major accounts acquisitions,
and the growth industry,
for the second and third quarters.
Amen.
Friday, May 13, 2005
More truly surprising birthday gifts
- The holy hand grenade of Antioch
- The original manuscript of Donald Trump's book, America: Why Communism is the Only Way
- A miniature replica of the Kremlin carved from gorgonzola
- The komodo dragon that bit the toe off Sharon Stone's husband
- A cure for stupidity in an easy-to-take capsule
- Sushi
- A re-enactment of the Humpty-Dumpty story starring Rodney King
- Cigarette-flavoured bubblegum
- A cable television package that only shows good stuff
- The head of John the Baptist
Thursday, May 12, 2005
The dangers of pet ownership
My hands shouldn't look like that. It's been an hour since I cut them while rinsing that cat food tin and they've already swelled to the size of grapefruits. Except grapefruits aren't purple and yellow and they don't ooze pus when you squeeze them. Shit, I'm dizzy. I should really call an ambulance. Or maybe Abigail. Yeah, Abigail could drive me to the doctor and the doctor will give me something and everything will be solid.
Why is it so hot in here?
Fuck, how am I going to lift the receiver? I know. I'll just knock it off the stand. Fuump. OK, now we're rolling. Uh-oh. How am I gonna hit those tiny buttons? My fingers are bigger than German sausages. God, I'm sweating like a pig. No Fluffy, no puss, get off the phone. My hands feel so heavy. I'll just lie down for a second and think.
Stupid phone. Stupid cat food tin. Stupid cat.
Why is it so hot in here?
Fuck, how am I going to lift the receiver? I know. I'll just knock it off the stand. Fuump. OK, now we're rolling. Uh-oh. How am I gonna hit those tiny buttons? My fingers are bigger than German sausages. God, I'm sweating like a pig. No Fluffy, no puss, get off the phone. My hands feel so heavy. I'll just lie down for a second and think.
Stupid phone. Stupid cat food tin. Stupid cat.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Truly surprising birthday gifts
- A human kidney
- An English manservant named Jeeves
- A flying cyborg monkey that can fill out tax return forms and cook gourmet French cuisine
- Pope John Paul II papal bathrobe
- Foods that don't cause cancer
- Pac-Man-shaped garbage disposal
- Weight Watchers coupons from McDonald's
- Original Sesame Street episode featuring Sir Laurence Olivier as Smackhead Bob
- The Caramilk secret
Monday, May 09, 2005
Questions
Why don't we have any peanut butter? Are the dolphins getting caught in the nets?
Who's more likely to assassinate the leader of a southeast Asian nation -- Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?
Is daylight savings time the reason we ask, "Where have all the good times gone?"
Is a 13-year-old with a cellphone a sign of the apocalypse?
Are bleeding heart liberals the reason the U.S. government can't afford universal healthcare?
Is the road to hell paved with good intentions -- or cheap canary-yellow linoleum bordered by pointy sticks bearing the impaled heads of the wicked?
Who's more likely to assassinate the leader of a southeast Asian nation -- Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?
Is daylight savings time the reason we ask, "Where have all the good times gone?"
Is a 13-year-old with a cellphone a sign of the apocalypse?
Are bleeding heart liberals the reason the U.S. government can't afford universal healthcare?
Is the road to hell paved with good intentions -- or cheap canary-yellow linoleum bordered by pointy sticks bearing the impaled heads of the wicked?
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Phraseology of the Northern Clack: Arguments
"I know, I know."
- Used as a response to a statement that the utterer should have known to be true before involving himself in the argument. Embarrassment and anxiety at the realization that his previous comments have been based on a false premise cause the speaker to pronounce the phrase as "Inoino."
Example:
"But the earth revolves around the sun."
"Inoino."
The utterance of "I know, I know" is typically followed by the word "but." The utterer then proceeds to increase the scope and intensity of the argument in an attempt to confuse his opponent and assure that everyone involved or in attendance forgets his fundamental lack of knowledge on the subject.
"No. I know."
- Similar to "I know, I know" but with one basic difference. In the case of "No. I know," (the "No" is followed by a 3/4 stop) the speaker agrees with his opponent without actually knowing for certain that the statement he is agreeing with is correct. This can be due to drunkenness, laziness, or learning impairment. It can also be a by-product of a weak will, when the adversary is simply too convincing, charismatic or loud-mouthed to differ with. In 90 per cent of arguments, this is a death blow.
"Yeah."
- Statement most often used by an outside third party who agrees with a statement by one of the combatants but lacks either the willingness or intelligence to enter the fray.
"Yeah, yeah."
- The phrase has two usages.
1. Used most often by the eventual loser of an argument to show disdain for his opponent's comments without being overtly aggressive.
2. Used by the clear winner of an argument when his opponent refuses to accept defeat gracefully, insisting instead on rehashing the same points which were previously contradicted.
"Phhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
- With lips pursed, teeth slightly apart and the tongue resting on the floor of the mouth, this long, slow expulsion of breath may come from the winning or losing side of any argument. When "Yeah, yeah" won't suffice, this action commonly precedes a physical confrontation.
For more Phraseology of the Northern Clack, visit Carmine's site at It was a dark and yadda yadda...
Specific links:
- Used as a response to a statement that the utterer should have known to be true before involving himself in the argument. Embarrassment and anxiety at the realization that his previous comments have been based on a false premise cause the speaker to pronounce the phrase as "Inoino."
Example:
"But the earth revolves around the sun."
"Inoino."
The utterance of "I know, I know" is typically followed by the word "but." The utterer then proceeds to increase the scope and intensity of the argument in an attempt to confuse his opponent and assure that everyone involved or in attendance forgets his fundamental lack of knowledge on the subject.
"No. I know."
- Similar to "I know, I know" but with one basic difference. In the case of "No. I know," (the "No" is followed by a 3/4 stop) the speaker agrees with his opponent without actually knowing for certain that the statement he is agreeing with is correct. This can be due to drunkenness, laziness, or learning impairment. It can also be a by-product of a weak will, when the adversary is simply too convincing, charismatic or loud-mouthed to differ with. In 90 per cent of arguments, this is a death blow.
"Yeah."
- Statement most often used by an outside third party who agrees with a statement by one of the combatants but lacks either the willingness or intelligence to enter the fray.
"Yeah, yeah."
- The phrase has two usages.
1. Used most often by the eventual loser of an argument to show disdain for his opponent's comments without being overtly aggressive.
2. Used by the clear winner of an argument when his opponent refuses to accept defeat gracefully, insisting instead on rehashing the same points which were previously contradicted.
"Phhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
- With lips pursed, teeth slightly apart and the tongue resting on the floor of the mouth, this long, slow expulsion of breath may come from the winning or losing side of any argument. When "Yeah, yeah" won't suffice, this action commonly precedes a physical confrontation.
For more Phraseology of the Northern Clack, visit Carmine's site at It was a dark and yadda yadda...
Specific links:
Friday, May 06, 2005
What not to eat
Five friends sit on the patio at Amadeu's, a Portuguese restaurant in Kensington Market. While Naomi and Deb are at the dollar store buying small, brightly coloured birthday gifts that vibrate with fine, third-world craftsmanship, the waitress brings out a small plate. The plate is resplendent with a watery orange-brown sauce. In the sauce are numerous bite-sized pieces of what appears to be a meat or meat by-product. After a consultation with the waitress, in which Kennedy's Portuguese fails to provide an answer, further consultation between the waitress and various semi-bilingual patrons inside ensues. Eventually, the mystery food is identified as chicken giblets. Tom, Donna and Kennedy smile politely and express their gratitude. Soon after, Deb and Naomi return from their excursion.
Naomi: What are those?
Kennedy: (confidently, despite being unable to translate the word earlier and knowing full well that Naomi will not likely understand Portuguese) Moellas.
Naomi: (not understanding Portuguese) What?
Donna: (facillitating) Chicken giblets.
Naomi: (scrunching her nose) Giblets? Back home, you buy a chicken and inside is a bag full of giblets. You pull out the bag and feed it to the cat. The giblets, not the bag.
Deb: (matter-of-factly) So it's cat food.
Kennedy: (full of ethnic angst) If the cat's not interested, you could always feed them to a Portuguese person. Cow tongue, pig snout, they eat everything. They're like the Inuit, they use it all. Hey, we can't build a house or make a shirt with this...
Deb: ...so let's eat it.
Kennedy: Exactly.
Tom: (recalling and relating a tale) We had this German roommate once. He cooked kidney one day and the whole house smelled of piss.
Donna: (grimacing) That's not right.
Tom: (hypnotically, as if recalling a horrible accident scene or painful chilhood trauma) He had spent a long time in the kitchen cleaning the kidney, too. To wash away the pee.
Deb: (concisely) Anything you need to wash the pee from is something you shouldn't be eating.
Naomi: What are those?
Kennedy: (confidently, despite being unable to translate the word earlier and knowing full well that Naomi will not likely understand Portuguese) Moellas.
Naomi: (not understanding Portuguese) What?
Donna: (facillitating) Chicken giblets.
Naomi: (scrunching her nose) Giblets? Back home, you buy a chicken and inside is a bag full of giblets. You pull out the bag and feed it to the cat. The giblets, not the bag.
Deb: (matter-of-factly) So it's cat food.
Kennedy: (full of ethnic angst) If the cat's not interested, you could always feed them to a Portuguese person. Cow tongue, pig snout, they eat everything. They're like the Inuit, they use it all. Hey, we can't build a house or make a shirt with this...
Deb: ...so let's eat it.
Kennedy: Exactly.
Tom: (recalling and relating a tale) We had this German roommate once. He cooked kidney one day and the whole house smelled of piss.
Donna: (grimacing) That's not right.
Tom: (hypnotically, as if recalling a horrible accident scene or painful chilhood trauma) He had spent a long time in the kitchen cleaning the kidney, too. To wash away the pee.
Deb: (concisely) Anything you need to wash the pee from is something you shouldn't be eating.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Modern philosophy
"I guess I just think too much."
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, 'what do I mean?' I mean I think too much. Just like I said."
"Uh yeah. OK. Whatever."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"You know. 'Uh yeah. OK. Whatever.' That."
"Nothing man. Nothing."
"Right."
"Yep."
"I've got to stop thinking so much."
"What's the problem? What do you think about anyway?"
"You know. Life and shit. Everything, nothing. Over and over."
"How can you think about nothing over and over? How can nothing be repeated?"
"It's like two negatives making a positive, OK?"
"Uh. OK."
"Don't hurt yourself."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Well, do you figure anything out? I mean, with all that thinking, you must come up with some pretty interesting conclusions and shit."
"Just one."
"What?"
"I think too much."
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean, 'what do I mean?' I mean I think too much. Just like I said."
"Uh yeah. OK. Whatever."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"You know. 'Uh yeah. OK. Whatever.' That."
"Nothing man. Nothing."
"Right."
"Yep."
"I've got to stop thinking so much."
"What's the problem? What do you think about anyway?"
"You know. Life and shit. Everything, nothing. Over and over."
"How can you think about nothing over and over? How can nothing be repeated?"
"It's like two negatives making a positive, OK?"
"Uh. OK."
"Don't hurt yourself."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Well, do you figure anything out? I mean, with all that thinking, you must come up with some pretty interesting conclusions and shit."
"Just one."
"What?"
"I think too much."
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Dirty white glove
Hi babe.
Best of luck today. I know that inspector will be ramrod strict when he inspects your secret lab animal testing facility today, and let's face it, it looks bad if he doesn't find anything. Makes him look incompetent and soft and pretty stupid really, considering the horrific stories of torture you've related to me, especially those long, wet, screaching Tuesday afternoons in the rodent areas.
Anyway, I'm sure things will go well. If not, try dropping a little "lettuce" on the floor. The way I hear it, those lab inspector folks are typically vegetarian, so we can assume they probably like the "green stuff," if y'know what I mean. Or, if he's one of those pasty-faced, goatee-sporting cult types, offer him a member of your staff as a human sacrifice to appease his goat-headed pagan god.
Yeah. I'm sure everything will go just fine.
Love,
Alphonse
Best of luck today. I know that inspector will be ramrod strict when he inspects your secret lab animal testing facility today, and let's face it, it looks bad if he doesn't find anything. Makes him look incompetent and soft and pretty stupid really, considering the horrific stories of torture you've related to me, especially those long, wet, screaching Tuesday afternoons in the rodent areas.
Anyway, I'm sure things will go well. If not, try dropping a little "lettuce" on the floor. The way I hear it, those lab inspector folks are typically vegetarian, so we can assume they probably like the "green stuff," if y'know what I mean. Or, if he's one of those pasty-faced, goatee-sporting cult types, offer him a member of your staff as a human sacrifice to appease his goat-headed pagan god.
Yeah. I'm sure everything will go just fine.
Love,
Alphonse
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Late night party monster
It's late. The party's waning. But there's still some rum left. I think I'll by safe as long as there's some rum left.
Steve's angry. Steve's pissed. Steve's glassy-eyed mad. He's a drunken pitbull wielding a chainsaw, all teeth and fleas.
I try not to look directly at him. He's an eclipse, a tsunami, a razor-wired black hole motherfucker.
Lick it Up revs out the radio and I know I'm screwed. Rob's distracted, bouncing to the music and reaching for the bottle out of habit. I start to reach out, try to stop the bottle from tipping, but Steve starts growling, a guttural thing full of malicious promise.
My bowels tighten up. Steve stares at me. He's Loch Ness dangerous, a YetiSasquatchBigfoot psycho crazy animal fuck.
I'm scared.
The last of the rum dribbles from the end of the bottle, a sad no-hope-for-the-future-cause-there-ain't-one senior citizen spittle.
God help me.
Steve's angry. Steve's pissed. Steve's glassy-eyed mad. He's a drunken pitbull wielding a chainsaw, all teeth and fleas.
I try not to look directly at him. He's an eclipse, a tsunami, a razor-wired black hole motherfucker.
Lick it Up revs out the radio and I know I'm screwed. Rob's distracted, bouncing to the music and reaching for the bottle out of habit. I start to reach out, try to stop the bottle from tipping, but Steve starts growling, a guttural thing full of malicious promise.
My bowels tighten up. Steve stares at me. He's Loch Ness dangerous, a YetiSasquatchBigfoot psycho crazy animal fuck.
I'm scared.
The last of the rum dribbles from the end of the bottle, a sad no-hope-for-the-future-cause-there-ain't-one senior citizen spittle.
God help me.
Late night party dancing
They dance the sexy grind dance. The husband and the friend watch. They grind harder. The husband and the friend look away, their short attention spans grabbed roughly by Alice Cooper's Poison blaring from the satellite radio station.
They dance more of the sexy grind dance. But it's Alice Cooper on the radio and she's happily married and he's not interested. Y'know, like proud Toronto disinterested. By the time Ratt's Slip of the Lip begins pouring from the speakers, they're sitting, begging for the husband and the friend to put on the all-Blondie channel.
They refuse.
Everyone drinks more rum.
They dance more of the sexy grind dance. But it's Alice Cooper on the radio and she's happily married and he's not interested. Y'know, like proud Toronto disinterested. By the time Ratt's Slip of the Lip begins pouring from the speakers, they're sitting, begging for the husband and the friend to put on the all-Blondie channel.
They refuse.
Everyone drinks more rum.
Late night party linguistics
Donna: What was the name of the chick who was married to Alec Baldwin?
Kennedy: Kim Basinger.
Rob: It's BASE-inger.
Kennedy: Yeah, whatever.
Steve: No, he was right. It's BASS-inger.
Rob: Unh-unh. BASE-inger.
Donna (loudly and annoyed): Anyway! I read she's agoraphobic.
Steve: She's afraid of sweaters?
Donna (more annoyed): No. Open spaces. (To herself) Must make it hard. What do they do? Film everything at her house?
Rob: I'm telling you, it's BASE-inger.
Steve (as if to a small learning-impaired child): No. It's BASS-inger. It's German.
Rob: BASE-inger. That's how she pronounces it.
Steve: I don't care how she pronounces it. It's BASS-inger. I think I know more German than her.
Kennedy: Language evolves dude.
Steve: No. It devolves. Dude.
Kennedy: Kim Basinger.
Rob: It's BASE-inger.
Kennedy: Yeah, whatever.
Steve: No, he was right. It's BASS-inger.
Rob: Unh-unh. BASE-inger.
Donna (loudly and annoyed): Anyway! I read she's agoraphobic.
Steve: She's afraid of sweaters?
Donna (more annoyed): No. Open spaces. (To herself) Must make it hard. What do they do? Film everything at her house?
Rob: I'm telling you, it's BASE-inger.
Steve (as if to a small learning-impaired child): No. It's BASS-inger. It's German.
Rob: BASE-inger. That's how she pronounces it.
Steve: I don't care how she pronounces it. It's BASS-inger. I think I know more German than her.
Kennedy: Language evolves dude.
Steve: No. It devolves. Dude.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Late night party surgery
Steve: Aarrghhh!
Kennedy: Yeah, yeah dude. We noticed you.
Steve: Aarrghhh! Wooooooo!
Kennedy: Dude. Seriously. Let me cut that thing off your face.
Rob: He's gonna bleed though.
Kennedy: Well yeah. A little. It's not that big.
Donna: Are you kidding? Have you seen how much he's had to drink? He's going to bleed like the Red Sea.
Steve: Wooooo-hooooo!
Donna: Besides, he said he had a doctor cut it off and it grew back.
Kennedy: Don't talk to me about doctors. What do they know? I'm telling you. A Band-Aid and some rubbing alcohol and it's all cool. I'll cut that fuckin' thing off. No problem. And when I do it, it'll stay gone.
Steve: Woo-woo-woo-woooooo!
Kennedy: Yeah, yeah dude. We noticed you.
Steve: Aarrghhh! Wooooooo!
Kennedy: Dude. Seriously. Let me cut that thing off your face.
Rob: He's gonna bleed though.
Kennedy: Well yeah. A little. It's not that big.
Donna: Are you kidding? Have you seen how much he's had to drink? He's going to bleed like the Red Sea.
Steve: Wooooo-hooooo!
Donna: Besides, he said he had a doctor cut it off and it grew back.
Kennedy: Don't talk to me about doctors. What do they know? I'm telling you. A Band-Aid and some rubbing alcohol and it's all cool. I'll cut that fuckin' thing off. No problem. And when I do it, it'll stay gone.
Steve: Woo-woo-woo-woooooo!
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Saturday, April 30, 2005
All's well that falls well
"...and forgive us our trespasses,"
Knock-knock.
"...as we forgive those that trespass against us."
Knock-knock.
"Come in."
"Good morning pastor. Are you ready for your weekly stretches?"
"Christ. Is it Tuesday already?"
"Yessir. Indeed it is sir."
"All right Bob, all right. Let's get this shit over with."
"Wonderful. OK. Great starting position. Now grab your ankles. Fabulous. And now...stretch. That's it. A little more."
"Arrgh...sweet baby Jesus. I think I pulled a kidney."
"C'mon. Don't stop. Feel the burn."
"What the fuck does that even mean, you sanctimonious prick?"
"Focus now. Stretch. Both of them back. You're almost there."
"Arrgh! Sadist. Faggot. Vile cocksucker."
"That's it. Right behind your head. Awesome! Now hold it."
Bob unbuttons his pants. His lowering zipper echoes against the pastor's belaboured breathing. The pastor looks up. His eyes bulge at Bob's bulge.
"What the fuck?! Oh God, I think I'm stuck."
Bob pulls down his boxers and approaches.
"Looking good Jerry. Looking real good."
Knock-knock.
"...as we forgive those that trespass against us."
Knock-knock.
"Come in."
"Good morning pastor. Are you ready for your weekly stretches?"
"Christ. Is it Tuesday already?"
"Yessir. Indeed it is sir."
"All right Bob, all right. Let's get this shit over with."
"Wonderful. OK. Great starting position. Now grab your ankles. Fabulous. And now...stretch. That's it. A little more."
"Arrgh...sweet baby Jesus. I think I pulled a kidney."
"C'mon. Don't stop. Feel the burn."
"What the fuck does that even mean, you sanctimonious prick?"
"Focus now. Stretch. Both of them back. You're almost there."
"Arrgh! Sadist. Faggot. Vile cocksucker."
"That's it. Right behind your head. Awesome! Now hold it."
Bob unbuttons his pants. His lowering zipper echoes against the pastor's belaboured breathing. The pastor looks up. His eyes bulge at Bob's bulge.
"What the fuck?! Oh God, I think I'm stuck."
Bob pulls down his boxers and approaches.
"Looking good Jerry. Looking real good."
Friday, April 29, 2005
Fine dining
Bienvenue à Manger L'homme Chez Nous messieurs. May I suggest the house specialty? Very well. We have a fine butter glazed leg of Spaniard in raspberry purée served on a bed of dandelions. Très savoureux. No? Perhaps paillardes de femme anglaise avec tomate épicée? This is the lightly pounded, how do you say, tits, of an English woman with a cumin and cilantro spiced tomato sauce. Very délicieux messieurs.
Ce qui? Oh no messieurs, non, non. There is no Iraqi on the menu. Non. Ce qui? Four North Korean burgers? Ahem. Very good sirs. Yes, right away sirs.
*walking away* Incroyable! Hamburgers! Porcs américains!
Ce qui? Oh no messieurs, non, non. There is no Iraqi on the menu. Non. Ce qui? Four North Korean burgers? Ahem. Very good sirs. Yes, right away sirs.
*walking away* Incroyable! Hamburgers! Porcs américains!
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Sack lunch
My boss asked me to fill out an F-643-U yesterday, so I jumped on top of my hard plastic desk and whipped my shit out and waved it in his face. I assume he wasn't amused because 10 minutes later some beefy security guy was pulling on my piece and clubbing me with a hardcover Webster's.
I'm thinking about suing my boss for unlawful dismissal. But Randy from accounts, who was walking by during the whole overblown ordeal, says I might be barking up the wrong tree.
"C'mon. A lawsuit?" Randy groaned. "You were standing there with your balls hanging in his face."
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so?' There's a certain level of etiquette that should be observed in some situations. Your balls hanging in some guy's face is definitely a step or two below that."
I'm thinking about suing my boss for unlawful dismissal. But Randy from accounts, who was walking by during the whole overblown ordeal, says I might be barking up the wrong tree.
"C'mon. A lawsuit?" Randy groaned. "You were standing there with your balls hanging in his face."
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so?' There's a certain level of etiquette that should be observed in some situations. Your balls hanging in some guy's face is definitely a step or two below that."
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Grand theft artismo
The gruff man drew smooth lines in black ink on a white page. I approached from just over his shoulder, eliciting a silent yet gruffer gruff from the man. I commented on how much I liked his drawing, his inkwork, his art. He gruffed at me.
"I'm no artist."
"Of course, of course. But tell me something. Are you happy?"
"Is anyone ever really happy?"
"You sound like an artist to me."
"I'm no artist."
"Of course, of course. But tell me something. Are you happy?"
"Is anyone ever really happy?"
"You sound like an artist to me."
Monday, April 25, 2005
Hogan!
Donna needs the yellow pie to take a stranglehold on the game. She roles. Damn! A six. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. She grins a contented serial-killer grin.
I slip the card from its box. I snap the card a couple of times. Fwap. Fwap. The grin fades. Beads of perspiration form on her upper lip. I flutter my lashes coyly.
"Who headed the Gestapo?" I ask.
"Colonel Klink," she answers.
The game continues.
I slip the card from its box. I snap the card a couple of times. Fwap. Fwap. The grin fades. Beads of perspiration form on her upper lip. I flutter my lashes coyly.
"Who headed the Gestapo?" I ask.
"Colonel Klink," she answers.
The game continues.
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