Something Special

“Brucie, I need work,” she whines.

She says this, mind you, as she reaches out and begins to toggle a long, manicured fingernail back and forth against a small lump of something stuck to the square of my desk calendar.  I glance down; see that it’s stuck to a smaller square of blank white space; see that it’s the only thing residing on that small square other than the print of today’s date.  The grating of her fingernail—never mind the gesture—makes me want to do the same with my teeth, but I squelch the urge.

 “Yes, I know.  We all need work, Angie.  It’s what keeps us happy, healthy, not housebound.”  I’d like to think I have a way with words.

 “Well?”

 “Well, Angie, you know there’s always that one thing you can do—.”

She raises an eyebrow but not her glance from that lump of something brown and unsightly stuck to my calendar.  I decide it must be a remnant of yesterday’s lunch—left over from a week earlier and feeding on its own ration of MSG in a small refrigerator I keep humming above the supply closet in the far corner of my office.  That same closet is home to a combination copier and fax machine.  Times are tough all around.

To read more about the author, Russell Bittner, click here.