The Chicken Chef and other stories.

[byelka58]

Back in October my company moved to a new office, and after I'd selected the parking spot, seat in the conference room, and bathroom sink that I will patronize unfailingly until I am no longer employed in that building, things returned to the normal mindless efficiency - or mindless inefficiency, if you happen to be talking about our clients. They

Comments

[byelka58]

Well, let's just have my boss ask him, preferably with zero preamble.

[la_zumo]

"... and here, I brought you a mix CD. It has twelve of the wordless songs your soul sings in darkness! I can hear them, Malcolm. I can hear them all the time."

OMG ROFL! I needed some hilarity to start this day.

Also, note to self: keep an eye out for Serbian octopi.

[byelka58]

Maybe the guitar-playing guy is a Serbian octopus, now that you mention it - he certainly came back today, which tends to make me suspicious. What is the meaning of his troubadour-ing? His... bardetry? His minstrelosity? I demand answers.

[gabbiana]

Now on my twelfth-ish reread (I like to make you beg for comments. Beg! And then I pretend you are begging for my love.), and I still think this entry is one of my favorites. The Malcolm story reads... I don't know, I want to say like one of The New Yorker's humor pieces, you know? It's very stand-alone-observational-clever.

"And then the plot thickened like so many gallons of slightly tweaked commercial gravy have failed to do, for one reason or another."

BWAH HAH HAH. And everyone in the library looks at me.

I have already mentioned this to you, but in my mind, your boss is Meg in that episode where she's all in love with Brian. Especially the voice: "Do you feel me, Malcolm? Do you feel me, inside you? Good, because I made you a mix tape."

It is March now, and not Tuesday, and I think you should post again. POSSIBLY ABOUT ULYSSES.

[byelka58]

Later it was Tuesday, but not March, and I totally freaking did.