Dead Dogs Don't Roll Over
Written by: Alex Sandell


Chapter 21
A Vision of Beauty, and Me In My Tights

I look down at my "Great Muppet Caper" watch and realize that I have been "going to the bathroom" for over twenty minutes. I throw my new pair of slacks on, noticing, and feeling, that they are about two sizes too small. I look at myself in the oversized mirror and cringe at what a plain, shapeless butt I have. The pants are squeezing my mundane buttocks so tight that I look like one of the extras in "Saturday Night Fever," the one sitting alone in the back of the disco. I strut out of the locker room with the Bee Gees playing on the stereo in my mind.

I begin my stroll down the never-ending hall that leads me to the stairs that take me up to the gaming floor. My heart begins to palpitate as I pass under the evil camera with the glaring eyeball. I don't even dare glance up at the camera, but I hear a faint noise emanating from it . . . a noise that sounds like raspy laughter.

During the rest of my incredible journey toward the gaming floor, I ponder over the nicest way to put in my two-week notice. However I do it, I cannot let my resignation come off as suspicious. I must not show any fear whatsoever, not even the slightest shake in my voice. I'm starting to suspect that I'm in real danger and I'm desperately hoping that the upper-management hasn’t figured out that I know something.

A tapping on my shoulder startles me out of my thoughts. I slowly turn to see the person, or thing, standing behind me. The way things have been going today, I wouldn't be surprised if it was an albino midget with the wings of an eagle, the tail of a lizard and two assholes for eyes. What "it" is turns out to be far more pleasant.

"Sue!" I declare, genuinely happy for the first time today, "you actually made it to work!" Sue smiles at my puppy-dog crush and pats me on the shoulder, sending an erotic tingle throughout my entire body. "You think Paul's gonna deduct a point for my being late?" She asks, her voice sounding like beautiful music. I try to answer while keeping my chest puffed out and my arms tightly flexed. "No one could steal a point away from someone as pretty as you." I would have preferred my flirting to come off as a little more "studly," but, as usual, I’m left looking like a puny little dork. Sue smiles sweetly as she declares, "you're so full of shit." Both of us know that this is a lie. I cannot believe how sexy Sue sounds when she says "shit." She could convert the word "hemorrhoid" into poetry.

"Well, I'll see ya on the floor," I comment with an excessive amount of hope, and a embarrassingly large amount of desire, in my voice. "If you wanna find me," I mumble, sounding more insecure than I intended to, "I’m in bank number 14." "Nickel Hell." Sue smiles as she says the two evil words. I wink and say "yup." Sue winks back as she tells me she’ll be up after she finishes using the bathroom. Holy Cow! I wish I could witness that.

As I walk away, I hear Sue yell "nice butt." I can feel my face turn as red as the ass of a horny baboon in heat when I remember I'm wearing a pair of pants two sizes too small. "You're so full of shit," I proclaim, both of us know that this is the truth.

Go to: Chapter 22

1997 Alex Sandell but, if you're a book publisher and, you wanna get this puppy out, please get in touch with me, hand me a nice, big contract and, of course, a 12 pack of Grape Soda and maybe we can do lunch.

You know the routine, just click it.


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