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Work Appropriate #1

5 Aug

Tappity tappity ping! Tappity tappity ping! Tappity Ring ring!
“Guy Gumshoe, Private Eye. . .  Hello Mrs Finklebottom. . .*Tappity* No, we haven’t found him yet. . .*tap*.. .Yes we’re working on it. . .*yelling. . Slam!*. . . Good grief. .. ”
I continued to type. . .Tappity. .. Tappity. . The door creaked open and-  Slam! Guy Gumshoe strode into the office with purpose, with determination, with panache with-
“Ms Friday I need you to get me Sammy the Snitch on the phone immediately and then I need you to-”
“Sir, I can’t. Sammy the Snitch-”
“Of course you can. Wait a minute, who are you? What have you done with your hair?”
“Sammy the Snitch got whacked by Moe the Mobster last Wednesday. I just got my hair done. It’s supposed to look like Veronica Lake, I hear it’s the latest thing, do you like it?”
“No. I don’t like it and I don’t like change. Ring Flo-”
“Florence the Floozy has been sleeping with the fishes since she crossed Speak Easy Pete 2 months ago.”
“Hmm. .. Well call someone and get the low down on the Finklesteen boy and get it fast.”
And just as quickly as he had come, Guy Gumshoe disappeared into his office. I turned open my address book and began searching for someone, anyone who might know the whereabouts of Freddy Finklesteen. He had been missing for 3 months and our investigation had revealed a bit of a seedy past. Guy’s door opened slowly.
“And Ms Friday, will you get me something to drink?”
“I thought we were abiding by prohibition now.”
“Only on Tuesdays”
“It is Tuesday.”
“Only on last Tuesday”
“Just a minute.”
I opened my desk drawer and brought out our contraband bottle of scotch when something terrible happened.
The door opened and in rushed what could best be described as a giant lime green swamp monster with a bad hair day. Tentacles and assorted pond scum waved in a threatening manner. I dropped the scotch and screamed.
“Katie are you ok? Oh my-”
BANG!
With an ominous wail, the swamp creature fell to the floor. Cautiously, Guy and I approached the deceased monster only to find. . .
“Holy cats! That’s my assistant, Ms. Tacky!” I cried.
We had a bit of trouble explaining ourselves to the fuzz, but upon examination they agreed that Ms. Tacky’s death was purely accidental. Given the strange costume she had on, it was a mistake that anyone could have made, they said.
Turns out she was really just going for one of those new fangled, Bohemian looks. She was dressed from head to toe in flowy ruffly crepe-y fabric. Her fatal mistake was the color choice of lime green.
And that is why, dear friends, you should always wear sane and professional attire at work.