Chet picked up a miniature lava lamp that had degenerated into a cylinder full of bubbles and globs of oil. He shook it vigorously for a few seconds and then turned it upside down as if it were a snow globe. When it failed to perform to his expectations he sneered and cast it aside haphazardly.
"I flew out to Cancun last weekend. Fan-fucking-tastic. I tell you Dale, the girls down there are not shy, not shy at all. Got in off the red eye and before I had even checked into a hotel I was getting a blow job while I was drinking a Corona."
Dale stared over the top of his monitor at Chet wishing for the ability to shoot poison coated needles out of his pupils.
"You'd love it down there. The whole area is basically laid out to cater to getting drunk and having sex with college girls. Lots of buff guys there too. I'm sure you could find one willing to feed you."
Chet held his fist in front of his mouth and bobbed his head in a fairly decent approximation of performing oral sex on a man. Dale considered mentioning that Chet was suspiciously good but Chet had a way of casually turning aside a retort and then leaving his victim a bleeding heap of wounded pride. Plus it would probably make him stick around longer.
"Anyway fat ass, just wanted to let you know why I was looking so tan. See you at the afternoon meeting." Chet jumped energetically from the chair and took three steps towards the door, then turned back to Dale. "Oh yeah, I think you owe me twenty bucks there buddy. Remember our little bet?"
"No, I don't remember this 'our bet' you speak of," replied Dale, "and if it's anything like that March Madness pool I supposedly owed you money for-"
"No, no, no retard, remember two weeks ago? I said 'I bet you twenty bucks I can lay pipe in that intern'. You remember?"
"You mean Joyce, the intern who quite last Friday? The one who was crying in Samantha's office for over an hour?"
"Yeah, I guess. Hell, I don't keep track of their names in my dream journal, I just know I boned the hell out of that one with the firm C's that I pointed to and then we made that bet. So pay up loser."
Dale had allowed Chet to scam money from him before, sometimes to appease him and sometimes just to get him out of his office, but he only had a twenty in his wallet and he needed to put gas in his car.
"Now wait a minute Chet, I remember what you're talking about. You said 'bet you twenty bucks' and I laughed."
"Nodded and laughed."
"I was nodding because I thought you probably would have sex with her. You end up having intercourse with all of the interns."
"Ha ha, intercourse? Is that what you crazy kids call it these days? Yeah, you're right," Chet wiped a fake tear of humor from his eye, "but the timing was all wrong on that nod. You were definitely nodding in response to my proposal of a gentlemanly wager within the context of the conversation."
"I've only got the one twenty right now," Dale replied trying a different approach.
"That's cool," continued Chet nonplussed. "Since there seems to be some confusion for you what with all that hard weather forecasting and map reading I'd be willing to reduce the bet to ten dollars. Just hit me with the twenty and I'll get you change."
"No, really Chet I-"
"Hey champ, come on. I was just headed down to Saucer's for some wings. I'll give you the change before the meeting."
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
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