e&tg 22

We headed south towards the riverfront.  On the way there, i bought three grilled capons, and i took care of most of one while Kohasadi swallowed his birds, as well as the remains of mine, whole.

My agent kept an office in a ritzy terraced building that overlooked a bend in the river.  Rich bourgeoisie stared nervously as we walked down the promenade; i knew i looked awful in my sooty, bloodstained courbouilli, and having a gryphon at my side didn't make me seem any more charming.  Finally, we arrived at an immaculately white building, with many brass plaques by its entrance.  One of them proclaimed,

NAHHAS TINKER
MARTIAL TALENT
REPRESENTATIVE
                           
SECOND FLOOR SOUTH

I turned to Kohasadi.  "I don't expect these jerks out here will give you any grief directly, but they might try to get a hold of a Constable.  Maybe you can just pretend you're sleeping, yeah?"  He squeaked, lay down, and closed his eyes.  I walked in, went up a flight of stairs, and knocked on the door marked with an S.  A voice within yelled, "Yeah, yeah, c'mon!"

I opened the door and walked into a well-kept office with a great view.  To my left, i saw a gnome with less salt-and-pepper hair than he used to have sitting behind a desk.  He was holding some sort of pastry-enveloped sausage in his hand, half-eaten.  He waved his meal at me.  "Mayleh!"  He finished chewing and washed it down with a big swig from his mug (which more than likely contained apple cider).  "Just the man i wanted to see.  Siddown, please."

I sat.  "Good to see you, Nahhas.  How's business?"

"Fine.  Great.  You look like hell.  Look," he continued, "we gotta talk.  This last job of yours, sounds like it was a total washout.  Hopsfield sent me a message last night, and he did not sound pleased in the least."  He had a bizarre accent that nobody i knew could place.  His 'yours' sounded like 'yoys', and he managed to find two syllables in 'talk'.  "And now," he said as he swallowed the last of his sausage, "i owe him a lot of money."

"I know, i know.  Look, Nahhas, you know i'm a quality Mercenary.  Just get me another assignment, and we'll be living it up again soon."

He shook his head.  "It ain't that simple, kid.  You see, you've gotten yourself a reputation.  And i don't mean the kind that pays, you get me?"

"Uhh, can't say that i do.  What's going around?"

e&tg 22

We headed south towards the riverfront.  On the way there, i bought three grilled capons, and i took care of most of one while Kohasadi swallowed his birds, as well as the remains of mine, whole.

My agent kept an office in a ritzy terraced building that overlooked a bend in the river.  Rich bourgeoisie stared nervously as we walked down the promenade; i knew i looked awful in my sooty, bloodstained courbouilli, and having a gryphon at my side didn't make me seem any more charming.  Finally, we arrived at an immaculately white building, with many brass plaques by its entrance.  One of them proclaimed,

NAHHAS TINKER
MARTIAL TALENT
REPRESENTATIVE
                           
SECOND FLOOR SOUTH

I turned to Kohasadi.  "I don't expect these jerks out here will give you any grief directly, but they might try to get a hold of a Constable.  Maybe you can just pretend you're sleeping, yeah?"  He squeaked, lay down, and closed his eyes.  I walked in, went up a flight of stairs, and knocked on the door marked with an S.  A voice within yelled, "Yeah, yeah, c'mon!"

I opened the door and walked into a well-kept office with a great view.  To my left, i saw a gnome with less salt-and-pepper hair than he used to have sitting behind a desk.  He was holding some sort of pastry-enveloped sausage in his hand, half-eaten.  He waved his meal at me.  "Mayleh!"  He finished chewing and washed it down with a big swig from his mug (which more than likely contained apple cider).  "Just the man i wanted to see.  Siddown, please."

I sat.  "Good to see you, Nahhas.  How's business?"

"Fine.  Great.  You look like hell.  Look," he continued, "we gotta talk.  This last job of yours, sounds like it was a total washout.  Hopsfield sent me a message last night, and he did not sound pleased in the least."  He had a bizarre accent that nobody i knew could place.  His 'yours' sounded like 'yoys', and he managed to find two syllables in 'talk'.  "And now," he said as he swallowed the last of his sausage, "i owe him a lot of money."

"I know, i know.  Look, Nahhas, you know i'm a quality Mercenary.  Just get me another assignment, and we'll be living it up again soon."

He shook his head.  "It ain't that simple, kid.  You see, you've gotten yourself a reputation.  And i don't mean the kind that pays, you get me?"

"Uhh, can't say that i do.  What's going around?"

it's not politics, i swear

In a punishingly inane AP article on CNN.com, this quote stood out in its baffling nonsequiturness:

Bush wrote back to wish Miers a happy 52nd birthday, telling her that he appreciated her friendship and to "never hold back your sage advice." He ended with a postscript: "No more public scatology."

There is nothing in the rest of the article that explains this remark.  It's just... o_O.

it's not politics, i swear

In a punishingly inane AP article on CNN.com, this quote stood out in its baffling nonsequiturness:

Bush wrote back to wish Miers a happy 52nd birthday, telling her that he appreciated her friendship and to "never hold back your sage advice." He ended with a postscript: "No more public scatology."

There is nothing in the rest of the article that explains this remark.  It's just... o_O.

theater of the easily amused

Dull explanation: this is from a coworker's profile on a "professional social networking" site.  Yes, his name is Jesus.

theater of the easily amused

Dull explanation: this is from a coworker's profile on a "professional social networking" site.  Yes, his name is Jesus.