“Good Morning.”

“And a good morning to you as well Ms. Mona.”

“Ms. Mona?”

“It’s cone to my attention that perhaps I need to be more respectful in the workplace.”

“HR again?”

“Did you know they call it Mike’s Time Out now?”

“It seems fitting.”

“I mean yeah, but still. According to the employee handbook that is kind of them picking me out.”

“You read the employee handbook?”

“Skimmed it.”

“Seriously?”

“I was a little pissed off.”

“Who turned you in?”

“No idea.”

“None?”

“C’mon, how many offensive things do I say in the span of a day?”

“Fair.”

“I think it was when I freaked out in the break room.”

“I missed that.”

“Someone took a half a donut.”

“Like it is healthier.”

“That’s what I said.”

“It is?”

“Screamed.”

“Sounds more accurate.”

“Meh. Tomato potato.”

“I said that to Trudy the other night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She said you are the worst influence ever.”

“She’s not wrong.”

“She really isn’t.”

“It always warms my cockles when you talk about me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“It does.”

“Your cockles or your subcockles?”

“Hard to say.”

“So new Mike is going to follow the rules now?”

“Not fucking likely.”

“Thank God.”

“But I shall make sure everyone else does in the break room.”

“Petty.”

“It is.”

“But kind of awesome.”

“It really is. I’ve submitted three complaints already this morning.”

“No.”

“Yep. Making a list.”

“Like an evil Santa.”

“Is that a fat joke.”

“Feeling jolly?”

“I was but now I’m feeling slightly less so.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Aren’t we catty this morning?”

“Meow.”

“Meow.”

“That reminds me, did I ever tell you about the cat lady?”

“Cat lady?”

“Oh shit. Yes.”

“She had lots of cats?”

“No. That would be normal.”

“Please tell.”

“She was sexy. Like crazy sexy. Too crazy.”

“I know the type.”

“You’ve dated most of them.”

“A good cross section. For sure. Hey. This isn’t about me.”

“True. Sorry. Stories are your thing.”

“You’ve got this boo boo.”

“Your confidence is amazing.”

“Cat lady, focus.”

“Right. She didn’t have a cat that I ever saw.”

“Weird nickname. Like calling a short guy stretch.”

“No. There is a good reason.”

“Color me intrigued.”

“She seemed normal. At first.”

“They all do.”

“Right. Should be tattooed.”

“Surgeon General warning across their forehead.”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway.”

“So it’s our first time being intimate.”

“Okay. Scissoring?”

“You and fucking scissoring.”

“One track mind.”

“Obviously.”

“So that is a no. Damn. One of these days you will amaze me with a scissor story.”

“I never will. Not ever.”

“So mean.”

“So she is down there.”

“Down where?”

“You know, down there.”

“I’m so lost.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Slow down. I’m taking notes. The quest for the mythical clit continues.”

“Uh huh. So yes, she is down there. And she found it.”

“Must have a GPS. Damn thing moves around.”

“It really doesn’t.”

“It’s scientifically proven to be in different spots on each woman.”

“I believe you believe that.”

“It’s the only possible reason for it being so elusive.”

“Fuck. Anyway. She is down there. And as I’m about to…”

“To what?”

“Orgasm.”

“Woman can orgasm?”

“This is why I don’t tell fucking stories.”

“Sorry. Let me jot that down in my notes. Female orgasm, question mark.”

“She has me right at the edge and then she stops.”

“Classic move.”

“It is. But not this time.”

“No?”

“No. She stops and looks at me and meows.”

“Like a sexy kitten?”

“No. Like a fucking alley cat.”

“Ummm.”

“Right.”

“Odd. But not a deal breaker.”

“Not then.”

“She continued meowing?”

“She put her lips on me and purred.”

“Not that strange. Vibrations.”

“I’ll give you that as well. It felt great. But combined with the meow? Off putting.”

“I can see that.”

“But I came like an explosion. It was great. Then it came to be my turn.”

“One good turn.”

“Exactly.”

“So she is into it. But she keeps meowing. I found it hard to concentrate.”

“I can see that.”

“Then she upped the crazy.”

“Higher than meowing Luke an alley cat?”

“She licked her forearm and began cleaning her face.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh boy.”

“I dried up like the Sahara.”

“I can see that.”

“I left immediately.”

“That’s where we diverge.”

“How so?”

“There was more research necessary.”

“Like what?”

“Did she have a toilet or a sand box?”

“No.”

“Oh yes. For science.”

“A sand box.”

“Well the typical litter box would be far too small for squatting purposes.”

“I hate that this makes sense.”

“Logistically.”

“Well I missed my chance.”

“You did indeed.”

“There is something erotic about a grown woman pissing in a tray of sand. I think Shakespeare or Shelly wrote about it.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And good morning to you. Employee handbook subarticle thirteen states that name calling of fellow employees is against the rules. Mona, tell her.”

“He has a point.”

“He is a pig.”

“She has a point.”

“We’ll call it a draw.”

“Have a good day Mona.”

“What about me?”

“Pigs always have a good day.”

“Fair enough.”

“She seems upset.”

“She does indeed.”

“You knew she was there.”

“Doesn’t unvalidate the beauty of a woman and her sandbox.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t.”

“I think it might. Slightly. Shakespeare huh?”

“What light through yellow stream doth break, she is a woman, pissing verily unto the moistened sand of life.”

“That is not word for word.”

“Cliff notes, Mona. Cliff notes.”