Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Work In Progress

Thompson's Twin guffawed.  Cord remembered the word.  High school.  Mr. Huer calling out his Algebra note sharers and secret lookers paying attention to their hormones rather than the lesson. 
"Take your groins and your guffaws and put 'em in your pocket."
Cord couldn't remember who did the best Huer impression.  It was easy.  A dab of turtle, a dash of Don Knotts.  
Cord wanted to warn Thompson's Twin to zip it up.  Put 'em in his pocket.  The woman in their midst...there was fire in her eyes.  And a vein the size of Cord's pinkie kept pulsating on her neck.  Cord could imagine it erupting like the little fucker in those Alien movies, tearing a high hard one down the woman's back and across the carpet smackdab into his co-worker's otherwise carefree afternoon. 

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