A decaying mouse trapped in the office walls emits a stench somewhere between an abandoned bin of food-based rubbish and dust. In our pursuit of the critter, Lionfish (one of the promoters) removed an autographed, framed Poison poster from the wall to reveal a gaping maw that once contained an air conditioner prior to the office renovation.
“Hey, cool!” Fisherman, our website manager, loped around the corner with his hands tucked in his jean pockets. “Find any money stashed in the walls?”
“I’ll bet we could fit someone in there,” I noted, considering the possibilities. Perhaps one of the art guys; they tend to run scronny.
Tetra, a computer graphics boy who always arrived toting a skateboard or bike and helmet, rounded the corner in pursuit of the commotion. “What’s all this?”
“We decided we’re going to cram you in the wall,” Fisherman informed him with his trademark lack of voice inflection.
Tetra bent and attempted to peer between the wall and the insulation, his bright lavender hoodie presenting the impression of an actual illuminated guppy. “Sure,” he nodded agreeably. “I could fit in there. Easily.”
. . .
In response to an e-mail inquiry; yes, my boss knows I blog at work.
