April 09, 2003

Board stiff

An oily silence oozed over the four occupants of the room, as Carlssin regarded the geriatric gamut one by one. Not you. Not you. And certainly not you. Carlssin became, once again, acutely aware why he’d forced himself to stay on board for so long.

If only Ulrike hadn’t been quite so convincing during the hiring process. She’d been like a walking shot of Viagra to them. And Carlssin suspected that it was the ensuing massive departure of blood from the three bald pates, en route to their nether regions, that had resulted in all three exercising decidedly poor judgement. It’s one thing for her to take on a business plan of epic criminal proportions for Neptune – it’s quite another to yield to her insistence on using her own unbelievably incompetent staff. That bloody dwarf! Short on stature, short on brains, and now… short-sighted.

At times like this, Carlssin yearned to scream. But that would never do. Carlssin was the kind of man who had other people do his screaming for him. Usually while he watched.

He touched a small button in front of him, and an assistant glided in discretely, waiting tentatively just behind his left shoulder. Carlssin looked up at the assistant, gently rolled his eyes, and nodded. The assistant, with an inclination of the head, walked back to the door, and opened it.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the board heard an unsteady tapping sound. This was followed by a thud, a sharp crack, an exclamation of pain, and finally a women’s voice venomously offering an abrupt opinion that the person making the tapping was someone who had had sexual relations with his mother.

Carlssin shuddered.

  :::  a Written ritual performed at 03:58 PM   :::