I am stoned, at the front desk, smoking a cigarette, admiring my new rolodex.
Said Medulla.
Ordinarily she'd wait until close, to fire up a joint, but the nasal drone of the boss had agitated her today and and she vented her temper on the new rolodex, until it gave way beneath her ministartions and fell to pieces in front of her.
Damn, she muttered, not again. Cheap asian shit.
I am stoned, at the front desk, smoking a cigarette, admiring my new rolodex strewn all over the floor upon remembering that all contacts have already been committed to memory long ago, and prop up the window with my Reader's Digest copy of Moby Dick, horizontially on it's spine, so the cat can go in and out.