Brigits_Flame, January Just-for-Fun Entry 01: Angels
Anthony rubbed his temples and pawed his comm. "What do you mean, 'it isn't in the dumpster'? You looked twice? Then the tree! Try the tree. Probability heuristic is at 92% now, since it wasn't in the dumpster, the grocery store, or the public pool. Yeah. Call me back."
He took a sip of coffee. "Fucking cats. Why can't they fucking stay put?"
"Anthony." A deep, clear voice struck through him like a bell. Saint Peter. Anthony turned to look at his boss, who stood at the entrance to his cubicle.
"Yessir?" said Anthony. "What can I do for you, Peter?"
"Are you having trouble with cats?"
"I got an urgent call from Tokyo this morning - I've had Raziel on the job for about two hours, now - we should find it soon. He's new, sir. But he's getting a lot better."
"Is he." Peter smiled a sad sort of smile, and Anthony puzzled at what it could mean. He didn't have to wait long. "Anthony, I've got unfortunate news."
He braced himself. "What's up?"
"We're letting you go."
"Oh, no!"
"We're cutting the entire department, effective pretty much immediately."
"Oh, that's awful - but - but I've got ops in the field, right now!"
"Have them finish up, come back here, and clock out. They'll be paid for today."
"But. But Peter - what's the meaning of this? Upstairs doesn't think the company can run without Acquisitions and Retrieval, do they?"
There was a long, unpleasant pause. Peter grimaced. "We... The economy being what it is, Anthony, we, ah. We found an outside contractor who would do A and R for less."
Anthony coughed. "We've been outsourced?"
"In a word, yes."
"To whom?!"
"...Ganesha."
"Fuckin' Ganesha? He removes obstacles. He does not find stuff."
"Devas come cheaper than angels."
"That's ridiculous. There are fewer of them," Anthony fumed. He paused a second.
"What gives Them the right to think they can fire us! People like me! They have little statuettes and pendants!"
"The public will not be informed of the change; all requests will simply be forwarded to the office in Bangalore."
"This is bullshit. I bet you're keeping Saint Cuthbert."
"We are."
"What does he do?" Anthony scowled. "He's not the patron saint of finding lost objects, pregnant women, mail carriers, or the shipwrecked! All he does is protect ducks. Fucking ducks."
"God likes ducks."
The comm beeped again. "Boss?" It was Raziel. "Got the cat."
"Great," said Anthony, feeling sick. "Drop her off and come on back to the office. Got news for you."
"Can't wait to hear it, sir. See you in a bit."
Anthony pointed a finger accusingly at Peter. "I hope you feel good about yourself, Peter."
Peter's face grew dark. "I didn't want to have to do it, Anthony. But we're losing capital fast.
"Religions do better in a recession!" Anthony pulled objects out of his desk, putting a picture frame into his briefcase.
"Not this time, Anthony. Sorry."
"Whatever." Anthony had all his things together - everything he wanted, at least. "I'm out of here." He shouldered his way past Peter, who looked immeasurably sad.
"Oh, and Peter?" he said.
"Yes?"
Anthony flipped him the bird. "Om mani padme fucking hum."