Sweet
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Whore!" yells Phoebe.
"Slut," snipes Babs through bared teeth, closing the door to my office behind her.
"Bitch," I says, looking up from my monitor.
"Excuse me?" says Phoebe.
"Sorry," I says. "That's just a reflex. What seems to be the problem here?"
"I'll tell you what the problem is," says Babs. "Someone has hogged the entire supply of Sweet'N Low."
I blink.
"The world's most popular sugar substitute," clarifies Phoebe.
Now after a brief moment reflecting how Predator Press has no affiliation with Sweet'N Low or any of their fine products, I finally says, "What?"
"We're not getting anymore for weeks!" cries Phoebe.
"Well you sure seem to have plenty," says Babs.
"I keep some in my desk, " says Phoebe. "It's more efficient. That way I'm not spending hours trolling around the water cooler for the new guy in the mailroom like some floozy."
"Tramp!" says Babs.
"Lot lizard!" I says reflexively. "Sorry. I'm trying to work on that. It seems to me you guys suspect each other of hoarding all the fine product of Sweet'N Low."
"Way to go, Captain Obvious," says Phoebe sarcastically.
"Look," I says annoyed. "I was just writing a ground-breaking expose on how well-respected, admired and loved Danny Bonaduce was recently assaulted by some guy named Jonny Fairplay." I glance at my monitor. "I mean Jonny Fairplay? That name is so obviously fake. I think it was the Mob. Now unless you two are going to engage in a sweaty, growling, nearly-naked and hot catfight, I need to get back to work."
Babs snaps her fingers repeatedly. "LOBO. Over here. We have a serious issue. Predator Press has a thief in her ranks."
"But what about Britney Spears?" I protest. "America's Sweetheart is obviously now embroiled in some very strange activity. I have to engage in the futile search for other 'strange activity' involving Britney that might refute my story," I argue. "It's called research. And it has turned out to be very difficult to not find evidence of Britney Spears being anything less than a pillar of the community. I've checked all my reliable sources: television and the internet. Even Google!" I grin darkly. "Britney is revered by all. This story is going to rock the world."
Babs and Phoebe stare at me in disbelief.
"Hey," I says. "If it's any consolation, I don't think either one of you did it. I think we need to be on the lookout for a really fat cat burglar."
I feel myself go pale.
"Oh my God. Is Phil okay?"
"You know," offers Phoebe, "Bonaduce kinda sounds like a fake name too."
"Precisely," I agree.
"You know," says Babs, "I've often wondered what Britney Spears and Danny Bonaduce's love child might look like."
"Me too," I says. "But I don't see any reason to involve Nick Nolte in this yet."
My iPhone chirps to life.
"LOBO?" says Ethan between abrupt static bursts.
"Yes sir," I says, peering into the tiny electronic wafer.
"Did you ever get around to buying me any more Sweet'N Low? I'm almost out."
[LOBO]
"Whore!" yells Phoebe.
"Slut," snipes Babs through bared teeth, closing the door to my office behind her.
"Bitch," I says, looking up from my monitor.
"Excuse me?" says Phoebe.
"Sorry," I says. "That's just a reflex. What seems to be the problem here?"
"I'll tell you what the problem is," says Babs. "Someone has hogged the entire supply of Sweet'N Low."
I blink.
"The world's most popular sugar substitute," clarifies Phoebe.
Now after a brief moment reflecting how Predator Press has no affiliation with Sweet'N Low or any of their fine products, I finally says, "What?"
"We're not getting anymore for weeks!" cries Phoebe.
"Well you sure seem to have plenty," says Babs.
"I keep some in my desk, " says Phoebe. "It's more efficient. That way I'm not spending hours trolling around the water cooler for the new guy in the mailroom like some floozy."
"Tramp!" says Babs.
"Lot lizard!" I says reflexively. "Sorry. I'm trying to work on that. It seems to me you guys suspect each other of hoarding all the fine product of Sweet'N Low."
"Way to go, Captain Obvious," says Phoebe sarcastically.
"Look," I says annoyed. "I was just writing a ground-breaking expose on how well-respected, admired and loved Danny Bonaduce was recently assaulted by some guy named Jonny Fairplay." I glance at my monitor. "I mean Jonny Fairplay? That name is so obviously fake. I think it was the Mob. Now unless you two are going to engage in a sweaty, growling, nearly-naked and hot catfight, I need to get back to work."
Babs snaps her fingers repeatedly. "LOBO. Over here. We have a serious issue. Predator Press has a thief in her ranks."
"But what about Britney Spears?" I protest. "America's Sweetheart is obviously now embroiled in some very strange activity. I have to engage in the futile search for other 'strange activity' involving Britney that might refute my story," I argue. "It's called research. And it has turned out to be very difficult to not find evidence of Britney Spears being anything less than a pillar of the community. I've checked all my reliable sources: television and the internet. Even Google!" I grin darkly. "Britney is revered by all. This story is going to rock the world."
Babs and Phoebe stare at me in disbelief.
"Hey," I says. "If it's any consolation, I don't think either one of you did it. I think we need to be on the lookout for a really fat cat burglar."
I feel myself go pale.
"Oh my God. Is Phil okay?"
"You know," offers Phoebe, "Bonaduce kinda sounds like a fake name too."
"Precisely," I agree.
"You know," says Babs, "I've often wondered what Britney Spears and Danny Bonaduce's love child might look like."
"Me too," I says. "But I don't see any reason to involve Nick Nolte in this yet."
My iPhone chirps to life.
"LOBO?" says Ethan between abrupt static bursts.
"Yes sir," I says, peering into the tiny electronic wafer.
"Did you ever get around to buying me any more Sweet'N Low? I'm almost out."
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