The Office Window System: Answers.

 

Have any of you ever felt even a modicum of curiosity about the efficacy of the window system that we deploy here in the office? I ask because it's come to my attention, more than once, in fact, that there's a high probability that some of you have been spotted during off-hours having your way with some of our least inductive occupants. In fact, they've even stopped me on the way to the train to unburden themselves and call attention to what they might have gone through at the expense of the devotion I used to lavish on our head person. He's been in the game for more than a few years, and has the rimcracks to prove it. If and when he decides to come clean in my antechamber in the quiet hours just before dawn, then there's an explosive device secreted in the lavatory with his name printed rather boldly on the outer casing.

On the other hand, if this turns out to be, at the end of the day, just another silly diversion from our core missionary extrusion, I will be the first randomized individual to take part in a pure blind test of wills in our secure facility. I expect to arrive dressed as for any other occasion requiring neither special notice, access nor tribute. When I'm greeted by an over wrought habitual liar proudly displaying a forged copy of my naval birth certificate, I expect that I may pass some bolus then and there. If not for the masticatory assistance of our Support Crew and their various devious adjutants, there's no way that any of us could ever hope to retrieve even the slightest iota of prickly balm from underneath the Special Duty Shelf where it's stood watch over our comings and goings for lo these many decades.

It seems like only yesterday when I had to kick you out of our competitor's shoe-shine operation and lead you by the hand into the office of the lead prosecutor in the Jeffrey Epstein case. It was there that you recounted your phony 'tale of woe' and expected everyone within earshot to compete to be the first to pin the dust jacket of my plagiarized autobiography on your piffle-laden, yet scandalously ample, bosom. Once you attained total mental control over my extended family, you proceeded to swap them out, one by one, in the hopes that no one in their right mind would intuit your ever deepening involvement in the alien hybridization program writ large. There but for the grace of God we go in wonder and awe, but only three or four steps into this routine nightmare, it seems that my contract with the US Department of Agriculture has caused a ruckus down on the floor. By the looks of it, they've got quite a wingding in process down there. Too bad only one scoundrel per hour is offered even your basic standardized refreshment provision. Otherwise I'd gather up my hienies and head for the boats. It can't always be like this, can it? You tell me. No.

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