nbspBar of
& Tracky.
& nbspLex, speaks at the third martini olive
(mentally)
& NbspSe not find a way to define something, that exists?
I can not explain my work. So, formally, I non-work.
& nbspA be a salary tax take, but let us be realistic my salary is inconsistent. It is so small that when it comes to the bank, the balance changes only in places, those after the comma.
& nbspNon work bores me to death. To pass the time I guess I have a job, an office with a lot of beautiful paper and ballpoint pens. And by association, I think Mr. Biro, the cosmic background radiation, LSD ...
& NbspNel my office there are no non- colleagues. Even they do not know what to do, so do not exist. But there are things you can do the same damage. When I was small I was afraid of the monster in the closet closed, Crot. During the day I was sure of his absence, by night becomes a little more skeptical. And even if Crot really did not live among my clothes, I did me in earnest. The non- colleagues, because they scare me and pretend to be talking about looking into his eyes.
& nbspAnche my boss there, but he does not combine anything and this is not anything that she swallows. I'm naive and I hope which one day will cause distraction and gets to work. A non-head can not fire you.
& nbspSul my vice I have several doubts. Appears to be a cross between a hobbit and a gremlin. He pretends to work, so a bit 'and there is a little' no. In the first intermittently I am sure that is a Hob-Gremli-it. In the second I wonder how someone who is non- can be so bad.
& nbspQuando I try to explain to anyone what-I do not Someone is swallowed, ruminated, and then vomited out of nothing cosmic. Nothing is a washing machine that will spin together with pieces of glass.
nbspTracky & Lex notes with a blank stare and laugh.
& nbspLex peel your eyes from the void and the fixed oil. Grab a toothpick and cannibalizing her interlocutor.
& nbspTracky: "What are you thinking?"
& nbspLex: "Oh, no, the job ..."
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