"Exit stage left." said Martin with a flourish

"Exit stage left." said Martin with a flourish before returning to his cubicle. Big Bob rolled his eyes, swiveling his chair back towards his monitor. Chewing the fat with Martin
Scorcese is like slicing a motorcycle in half with a chainsaw. Lot's of sparks and expensive. Big Bob wasn't having it though, so he pushed his office chair towards Martin and
said, "You're a goodfella, Marty, but it's after hours. These are mean streets, and I feel like a raging bull." Martin's face turned the color of money as Big Bob's words sank in.
It didn't matter that Big Bob thought he was a 'goodfella', what mattered was that Bobby was out for blood tonight and Martin knew he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Bobby, armed with all the standard mob tools, checked his word of the day calendar. In a twist of fate, the word was temerity. "Confidence level 9," he muttered, spying Martin
's self reflection paper. Bobby couldn't wait to sabotage Martin and get out of there, he just wanted to see Martin be accused of attempted suicide. The mob's is a crazy thing.
This has been true ever since the Eisenhower era, when all you had to do was be a Communist.Martin was no activist type, just bored with the status quo. Pictures of matchstick men
playing the games matchstick people play. It wasn’t with firewood unless that was their kink. My uncle Mike liked Ike but that was a long time ago. His thinking is elsewhere now.
Like the smoke rising up into the night sky from the matchstick people's burning remains, Uncle Mike's thoughts floated away from Ike, now. They hovered near Neptune and circled
twice before they heard the self destruct sequence kick in. "Well, isn't that great?" He had hardly spoken the words when the explosion rocked the universe, eradicating everything.

Started: 2014-03-01 04:11:17
Finished: 2017-10-23 14:05:55

0 Comments

Want to leave a comment?