(no subject)
"You've got to be kidding me," says Whistler- well, no, he got a bit tetchy about being called that a while ago; he'd be happier if people addressed him as Emory, just now- to the Bar. "First you tell me there's no FTP access out of here, then no Gopher or telnet, and no fax, and now you're telling me there isn't even a FedEx drop box? How the hell am I supposed to get my revisions back to the office in time to avoid having my ass handed to me? And can I get something with enough caffeine in it to drop an elephant, please?"
Jolt tastes kind of funny cut half-and-half with soy milk, but he isn't about to argue.
Jolt tastes kind of funny cut half-and-half with soy milk, but he isn't about to argue.