by pjmcbride

which I believe is derived from the Latin word for “tail.” Anyway…

“I don’t like that story,” Nick complains, sharpening his claws on my couch until I swat at him. “It shows me in a vulnerable condition.”

“You haven’t heard the epilogue yet.”


Nick received a merit award for heroically saving the dog from the fire. They presented him with a gold-covered chocolate medallion, which he promptly ate, tinfoil and all. But I was troubled–questions remained unanswered. Because, after all, why exactly did he save that dog? Could it be as…prey? After all, he’d been talking about pronto pups and corn dogs and such.

“That’s better,” he says. “I guess.” He doesn’t care for ambiguity.

“Hey,” I say. “How would you like to hear about how you used to be a man, and walked on two feet?”


“Yes! Therein hangs a tale!”

He looks back at his tail in alarm, then starts chasing it. Unfortunately, since it’s so long from all his lying, he catches it, and sharp teeth + barbed tail = well, it’s undignified.


We were warned of the arrival of a tour yesterday. Why someone would want to look at a roomful of people working at computers beats me–they could probably get that at their own office. Anyway, I somehow managed to time my daily making of popcorn to coincide with their arrival, and had to make my way through them to get back into the room. I’m guessing the Deputy Director (who reads this publication) saw me and was thinking, “Here comes the loose cannon–please don’t mention the paper towel situation!” No, but if anyone in the crowd had said, “You get to eat at your desk?” I’d have said, “No, I have to work while I eat,” and I don’t think I could have kept myself from saying it. Luckily, no one cared enough to ask. Speaking of which, it’s time for…


The city’s running out of money? I know! Get rid of school buses! Those kids’ parents all have cars, right? They can’t drive the kids to school because they have to be at work? Hey, that’s something for the private sector to address!