MA07 MYTH Inc Link Read Free Page B

substance in question, I added some more ... and then a little more, not realizin’ that it was floatin’ up toward the ceilin’ instead of down onto the coaster. Unfortunately, I was bent over the coaster at the time, as I was tryin’ to keep the bag from floatin’ away, and unbeknownst to me the dust was sprinklin’ onto me rather than the coaster in question. The first admissible evidence I had that things was goin’ awry was when I noticed that my feet were no longer in contact with the floor and that indeed I had become as buoyant as the bag which I was tryin’ to hold down. Fortuitously, my grip is firm enough to crumble bricks so I managed to maintain my hold on the bag and eventually pull myself down the safety line instead of floatin’ to the ceilin’ in independent flight. Further, I was able to brush the Pixie Dust off my clothes so as to maintain my groundward orientation as well as my dignity.
    The only thing, which was not understandable about this passing incident, was the uninvolvement of the other worker types. Not only had they not come over to assist me in my moment of misfortune, they had also refrained from making rude and uproarious noises at my predicament. This second point in particular I concerned myself with as bein’ unusual, as worker types are notorious jokesters and unlikely to pass up such an obvious opportunity for low amusement.
    The reason for this did indeed become crystalline when we finally broke for lunch.
    I was just settlin’ in to enjoy my midday repast, and chanced to ask the worker type seated next to me to pass me a napkin from the receptacle by him as it was not within my reach. Instead of goin’ along with this request as one would expect any civilized person to do, this joker mouths off to the effect that he won’t give the time of day to any company spy, much less a napkin. Now if there is one thing I will not tolerate it is bein’ called a fink, especially when I happen to be workin’ as one. I therefore deem it necessary to show this individual the error of his assumptions by bendin’ him a little in my most calm, friendly manner. Just when I think we are startin’ to communicate, I notice that someone is beatin’ me across the back with a chair. This does nothin’ to improve my mood, as I am already annoyed to begin with, so I prop the Mouth against a nearby wall with one hand, thereby freein’ the other which I then use to snag the other cretin as he winds up for another swing. I am just beginnin’ to warm up to my work when I hear a low whistle of warnin’ from the crowd which has naturally gathered to watch our discussion, and I look around to see one of the foremen ambling over to see what the commotion’s about.
    Now foremen are perhaps the lowest form of management, as they are usually turncoat worker types, and this one proves to be no exception to the norm. Without so much as a how-do-you-do, he commences to demand to know what’s goin’ on and who started it anyway. As has been noted, I already had my wind up and was seriously considerin’ whether or not to simply expand our discussion group to include the foreman when I remember how nervous Bunny was and consider the difficulty I would have explainin’ the situation to her if I were to suffer termination the first day on the job for roughin’ up a management type. Consequently I shift my grip from my two dance partners to my temper and proceed to explain to the foreman that no one has started anythin’ as indeed nothin’ is happenin’ ... that my colleagues chanced to fall down and I was simply helpin’ them to their feet is all.
    My explanations can be very convincing, as any jury can tell you, and the foreman decides to accept this one without question, somehow overlookin’ the fact that I had helped the Mouth to his feet with such enthusiasm that his feet were not touchin’ the floor when the proceedin’s were halted. Perhaps he attributed this phenomenon to the Pixie Dust