Dreaming of Jizzy by Y. Falstaff Page A

headaches, as management would then micro-manage the shit out of you to try and coach you back to the path of success. Luckily, during his tenure there at Samuel Barton & Sons, Rick had never been on the radar before, and he wasn't planning on starting a stay on it any time soon. After quickly prioritizing his emails, Rick immediately picked up his phone and began checking his messages. It was at that moment, when he started scribbling some notes from his missed phone calls, that an instant message popped up on one of his flat-screen monitors.
     
    “From Tanner: Once you're open for business, but before you make any calls, come back to my desk, please.”
     
    Exhaling, Rick instantly knew he'd probably get a warning from Tanner for being late to work, and he honestly wished he could skip the whole lecture just so he could tackle the mountain of work on his plate that morning. While Tanner was generally a nice guy on the whole, Rick's boss was a man who went strictly by the book in about every situation. Not only did he go completely by the book, but he did so in such a cold and aloof way that Rick thought of him more like an unfeeling calculator at times, than an actual human being. Rick thought Tanner was such a obedient slave to the system that he often joked to himself that, if his boss were in Germany during the Second World War, he could totally see Tanner gassing Jews without a conscious because that was simply what the orders said to do. Not only did Rick not think his boss would have any problem at all executing those terrible orders, but he was pretty sure Tanner would be at the local church on Sunday's singing in the choir too. It wasn't that Tanner couldn't think for himself, he clearly could and was a smart guy, but the man was part of the machine. Men like him did whatever they needed to in order to advance themselves and that equated to following all the rules to the T. Reading over the message from his boss again, Rick then riffled off a quick reply.
     
    “From Rick: np, brt.”
     
    As he was locking his computer but before he actually stood up to head off, Rick was abruptly greeted by a blimp of a smiling face on his left, staring down at him over the gray cubicle wall.
     
    “Good morning, Rick! Running a little late this morning, eh?” Cathy greeted, in an I-know-something-you-don't kind of tone.
     
    “Ya, got caught up,” Rick simply replied, she being the last person on Earth he essentially wanted to talk to, ever.
     
    “Oh, hot sauce! I love hot sauce! Do you mind if I use a little at lunch?” Cathy asked, her eyes firmly locked on the tiny red bottle of habanero sauce, which Rick had neglected to hide in his hurry and was just sitting on his desk in plain sight.
     
    As soon as the words left her mouth, Rick felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and a bulldozer inside of him completely flattened his glorious plans at getting back at her. While the morning itself had started out great fucking Jizzy's wonderful breasts in the shower, Rick was starting to get the sneaking feeling that things were starting to turn ugly for him.
     
    “Uh, ya, sure. Feel free,” Rick answered in defeat, putting the hot sauce next to the candle on the top of the cubicle wall between the two of them.
     
    “Why thank you, Rick!” Cathy beamed with a long smile that still told him there was something she knew that she wasn't telling him. Leaning close to him then, she whispered, “Oh, and don't worry about being late. I'm sure no one noticed.”
     
    “No one but you,” Rick sourly thought to himself, but he only managed a dismissive 'thanks' in reply.
     
    As Cathy dropped down into her cube like a good little groundhog, Rick stood up in his, intent on walking back to Tanner's more spacious cubicle at the end of his aisle. But before he turned to walk back, his eyes quickly scanned the hundreds of cubicles across the massive, football field-like floor of his department. While his eyes innocently