TGIF. Can I cancel the weekend and sleep, maybe watch a movie with the tot on couch and order pizza? (Who needs clean laundry anyway?)
I feel like I should be doing more with my blog. That I should be funny or inspiriting or clever. That I should link you to other interesting things. Or at the very least, that I should be creative.
I’m just not feeling creative this morning. The tot started school and it’s kicking our butts. Last night’s dance class kicked my butt. My quest to finish as many of my WIPs before the end of October (as part of the FF&P Chapter’s 60 days of Pro, which members can join even if you’re PRO or beyond) is kicking my butt. Come join the fun if you dare.
This weekend is a LARA meeting. We always have a writing prompt and you bring your paragraph (more than that for me, lol) for a chance to win a free meeting.
I always do it, but usually forget to bring it in.
So here’s this month’s. The prompt is Revenge is bliss.
Happy Friday everyone.
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
Revenge is bliss. My teacher would tell me that victory was the best revenge or some shit like that. But Tarō was long gone.
Maybe I was weak.
Or maybe I just really liked the idea of covering Frank’s desk with saran wrap.
When I meant desk, I meant everything. The desk, the computer, the chair, his in-box, his stupid Yale diplomas…
Time consuming? Yeah. But I was the kind of girl who spent hours scrubbing the floor and ran nearly a marathon every day. Focusing on a task for a long period of time wasn’t a problem for me.
I was also a faster than a human.
At least at this job no one cared if I was occasionally too fast, too strong, or too psychotic.
Carefully, I stretched the saran wrap over the seat of the chair, having already done the armrests and headrests. Teach him to tell me I couldn’t order a red stapler.
I had to have a red stapler.
Or star-shaped paper clips.
After I finished the chair I took everything off his desk and wrapped that. Then as I replaced everything, those, too, got wrapped in saran wrap. I super-glued the caps onto his pens. When I got to his hard drive, I was extra careful, since sometimes I demagnetized them.
The pièce de résistance was the black Swingline he’d given me instead of the red stapler I’d wanted. I’d taken a silver Sharpie and written his name on it. I’d added some flowers and a butterfly. Placing the offending office supply on his desk, I then TPed his office with red crepe paper.
“Jesus Christ, Rory, what are you doing?” My boss, Mac, stood in the doorway.
For a moment I froze like a garden fairy in an elevator. Busted.
“Relax, Rory.” Mac’s voice softened. I was still skittish around Alpha Werewolves sometimes—especially ones as dominant as him.
“It has to be red, Mac.” No one ever understood—except for my old mentor Ray.
“What, lass? What has to be red.” Mac was a 6 foot 8 Scotsman with a big, bushy red beard and a brogue.
“The stapler, of course.” My hands went to my ample hips.
At least he didn’t ask why. Even Ray had trouble understanding that.
A bushy red eyebrow rose. “Is that plastic wrap?”
“Yep.” I surveyed my work. Pretty damn good, if you asked me. Almost as good as when I tinfoiled my boss’ desk back at the Bureau when he’d put me on desk duty after an incident involving French bread, a case of toilet paper, blue food coloring, and a few very young, impressionable Vampires.
Walking into Frank’s office, my giant boss put an arm around me. Reflexively, I flinched. I still wasn’t good at this whole touching thing. But Weres were touching-feely bastards and Mac had a whole mess of daughters.
“Rory, let’s go upstairs. I’m going to introduce you to Janice. If she doesn’t have any of the supplies you need, I’ll tell her to order you whatever you want from the office supply catalogue—within reason of course.” He smiled. “But—“ Mac tried to get stern. “Will you stop organizing our supply cabinet by putting everything in pairs?”
I liked pairs. “Why? It worked for Noah.”
He sighed exasperatedly. I seemed to exasperate Mac and Frank an awful lot. “Please.”
“Fine.” I blew my auburn bangs out of my face.
“Come on.” Gently, he herded me towards the door. “Janice gets in early so she should be there by now. If not, we’ll go get some coffee first.”
I looked back at Frank’s desk. “You mean you’re not going to make me clean it up?”
Mac’s grin reached all the way to his green eyes. “Not before Frank see’s it. After all, you wouldn’t want to waste such remarkable handiwork. You have such incredible attention to detail.”
I grinned back. It was good. If I was any good with gadgets I’d take a picture and email it to that website that posted such things. “Of course not.”