A Very Short Story

Geoff strode purposefully down the plush but considerably dull corridors of his office building. He'd been looking forward to a chardonnay-fueled lunch with his immediate boss Trevor, but his tone when summoning Geoff to his office seemed to hold more disappointment than their usual three hours flirting with the waitress at the wine bar round the corner.

His first year at S&M Injury Lawyers (advertised on TV as 'Your pain is our pleasure!') had been tedious as hell and then they'd branched out into commercial property law and Trevor had hand-picked him to join the new team. The last nine months had been a whirlwind of bottles of red, shouting down the phone at people and buying expensive tailored suits - all of which suited Geoff perfectly.

He reached Trevor's door and knocked once before going straight in. "What's up?" he asked of Trevor, who was leaning back in his opulent leather chair and looking somewhat dwarfed by the huge glass-topped desk bereft of even a single piece of paper.

"Sit down Geoff," he said, waving one hand at the 4-seater sofa against the far wall before returning both hands behind his head. "Bad news I'm afraid."

"Not the Pearson take-over?" Geoff said with groan.

"Spot on as ever my man. Corporate are bringing that in-house."

"They're taking over my take-over?" Geoff sat back despondently.

"In a manner of speaking. You know I was working on the Yamisucco buy-out of Jenner Holdings? Well it turns out that Pearson's target owns Jenner Holdings, so technically it's a merger."

"So they're taking over your take-over too?"

"Well they're taking over both our mergers, really."

"So they're taking over our take-overs and then pulling them together? So they're merging our mergers?"

"That's one way of putting it my man," sighed Trevor. "It's kinda reduced our workload."

"Well we've still got the Turner acquisition right?"

"Didn't you hear? Turner got bought out this morning."

"Someone acquired our acquisition?!?" Geoff exclaimed incredulously.

"Yup, so the deals off."

"Goddamnit. What a sell-out!" Geoff swore. "That just leaves us the Grunholm demolition then."

"Going to be a quiet month," Trevor said, squeaking back and forth in his chair.

There was a knock on the door and Isabelle, Trevor's sexy new secretary, sashayed across the carpet to hand Trevor a note before winking at Geoff (who was trying the laid back and sexy look that made him look more like he'd followed through and was not enjoying sitting in it) and seeing herself out.

"Or not," said Trevor. "The Grunholm deal as fallen through."

"You're joking? The demolition has collapsed?"

"Says here that legal screwed up the paperwork."

"Goddamnit, that really blew up in our faces."

Silence ensued.

"Lunch then?"


These pointless scribblings are brought to you by Red Squirrel Publishing as part of Project Monkey Tennis*


* Project Monkey Tennis is my theory involving monkeys and typewriters. You've probably heard the one about a thousand monkeys with typewriters will eventually come up with the works of Shakespeare. Well my theory is even more unlikely - that is a million monkeys each given a typewriter may possibly, eventually, come up with commentary less interesting than that of the BBC during Wimbledon fortnight.**

** "And Henman serves, a forehand return, a backhand return, forehand by the Croat, backhand by Henman, forehand down the line, cross-court backhand, backhand down the line, forehand, backhand, forehand by the plucky Brit, forehand cross-court, backhand....oh, and Henman charges the net....the lob goes long! Well, brilliantly played by Henman there. AND THERE'S THE HENMAN FIST!!! *fawn fawn* Oh I say! I don't know about you Andrew, but with that fist and the look on his face he doesn't half remind one of a self-abuser at the vinegar stroke....and there's his lovely girlfriend clapping in the crowd like a spasticated seal. I don't know about you Andrew, but there's a touch of the walrus about her, no?"


Note: This is why I drank - to try and drown my brain :)