company man

by bofa xesjum

i am sorry, but this thing is a joke. this thing, as you call it, is only a number. the child will keep you company while you try to sort it out. it had been a year since the animal had appeared on the lawn. paul waters had quietly kept his eye on the problem. he was sure there was a way to work it all out. but was the child an agent of the government? he knew the company had its ways. maybe the child was an agent of the company. even though the day theoretically belonged to the government. the hand of fate seemed to point that way. the hand! always the hand! a young executive was watching the scene from behind a quiet tree. he was debating whether to call the government or the company. he had always been a loyal foot soldier of the government. but had dreamed of moving up the ladder to the company. where the real action was. the young executive’s name was franklin joseph lewis. he had never been either a poet or a dreamer. he thought of himself a hard headed person, with his eye on the main chance, his dad hunted moose on the weekends. his mom baked cookies every day except saturday, when she baked brownies. she never baked cakes or pies. she was not a cake or pie person his dad never hunted rabbits he was not a rabbit person. franklin himself never watched football. he had learned to pretend he watched football, and join in the conversations about it with his fellow employees. it was the old army game. now you see it, now you don’t. from behind a quiet tree. waiting - just waiting - for his chance.