Saturday, June 27, 2009

Blog of People Who Have Walked Into My Office, Looking Like Trouble.

Every day this blog will post about one person who walked into my office, looking like a big tall glass of trouble. Not that I wouldn't help, of course, but sometimes you just get that gut instinct. This time, that instinct was a 270 pound pug hitting me in the stomach, telling me "Hey kid, this here's trouble."

  • This tall leggy dame. You know the kind. Pouty lips and soft, caring eyes. Both lied, but what a lie.
  • Little squirrely guy. Big, thick glasses that didn't help him see that his socks were mismatched. But I didn't need glasses to see that trouble was following him around as surely as a dog follows the hot dog man.
  • Tall sucker. Not from around here. His jacket barely hit his waist, and I barely avoided hitting him square in the jaw, simply for having the audacity to come into my office, trailing so much g-d d--n trouble.
  • Cripes. Of all the days, why today? I had sworn to myself that if one more robot walked through the door, I'd become a nun and move down to San Miguel. Look like I need to go shopping for a habit.

No comments:

Post a Comment