Carl stared at the Magic Eight Ball as he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk.
“Okay, ball,” he muttered to the toy, “Show me what you’ve got. Odds of Shirley dropping me by the Spring.” He shook the thing and then made a face at the answer. “Too soon to tell? What kind of crap answer is that?”
…he was talking to an
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Ah, well. He managed to locate the break room after only three strolls right past it. No one noticed though. He walked with purpose and thereby was not questioned as doing anything odd - well, at least, not in reference to missing the break room. He rummaged through the food in the fridge, briefly examining Alan's lunch, then putting it back just as quickly (democrats eat strange things; they're all a bunch of green people anyway).
He was in mid-pillage of the break room when he noticed it. The black ball was sitting there on the table, innocent as one such object could be. He patted the side of his suit coat, reminding himself that the airsoft gun was tucked away just in case. He considered shooting it, as it could be a bomb or something less exciting. He opted against that; one visit from Paul was enough this week (however, if Lorraine was the one to come in and do the spanking...).
He glanced around and after making certain there was no one in a close enough radius to state his name to, he picked up the Magic Eight Ball. "Denny Crane?"
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"Bastard."
Still, it's possible it could have been the work of the mad cow - a logical assumption, even.
He cleared his throat, "Denny Crane?"
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Instead, he opts for a fun topic, since he happens to be highly irked, "Is Denny Crane going to shoot you?"
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