Huh. I think I like Wednesdays that become Thursdays when you're not looking, but always, ALWAYS, remember... it's still tonight until you go to bed. This weeks offering:
Ben bounced his right knee. He heard Curly mumbling from the seat in front of him, "What in bloody 'ell is a 'kwadree, lattral'? Has a zee in it." Ben stared out the window and thought, the bus window is a quadrilateral. Wait… trapezoid? Ben jiggled his knee harder, jostling her seat. He tapped the window and mumbled, "Trapezoid." Toad-voiced Curly can stick that in her boxes and see if it fits.
She started singing off-key "Ice Ice Bay-bee" and Ben figured he died and went to hell, capital H-E-double L. How did he get stuck here? Oh yeah, I thought I could bluff a raise. My bad!
Mr. Brennan, THE boss, had stood but not come around his desk. He grabbed the stress ball from his desktop and squeezed it while staring at Ben. Ben cleared his throat. Mr. Brennan winked before offering his free hand.
Curly's voice interrupted Ben's memory. "Nine letter word for magnificent. Ends in 's'. Hmm." Did she raise the volume, hoping for his help?
Ben wriggled to get comfortable, kneed the back of her seat again. He sure missed his ergonomic office chair. Mr. Brennan's reply to Vesco Instruments is offering me 5K more a year, but I love it here and would hate to leave was a condescendingly cheerful, "That's great! Shoot, we'll miss your contributions but how can we stifle talent? Ben, when opportunity knocks you answer the door, invite it in. You woo it; hell, you schmooze that opportunity. Open the expensive champagne, splurge for that sumptuous feast and in the end, you'll get your Just Desserts. Yessiree, stroke that opportunity until it surrenders and gives you the ride of your life."
Yep. This is the ride of my life. Wait…that's it! Sumptuous. Nine letter word, ends in s, means magnificent.
Ben was about to lean forward and offer Curly the word, but she was whispering to a buzz-cut Neanderthal across the aisle; a Neanderthal with the same saucer-plate ears as his boss. His ex-boss.
That pompous prick had fondled his bean bag as he avoided eye contact with Ben and said, "Human resources will cut you your last check. And Ben? Return your washroom key."
Ben shook the memory clear, re-crossed his legs and concentrated on the humming wind, the moaning tires… hey! Small miracle! Curly wasn't croaking cover songs.
She had turned to glare at him. Ben raised his eyebrows and smiled a hey-I'm-sorry-I-insulted-your-awful-singing voice smile. The corners of Curly's mouth twitched. Ben took it as a hey-you're-cute-and-you-called-me-beautiful look.
"Sumptuous. Sumptuous means magnificent," he said, adding a wink, hoping she'd smile.
"If yer epileptic knee kicks me seat one more time," she threatened as she poked her thumb towards the Neanderthal, "Me brother Sean here'll kick ye so hard that yew'll fly through this...," she paused to reach over his seat and punch his window, "...TRAPEZOID."