I was sitting at the Managers desk in the cob house catching up on paperwork this morning when Lardass came in, wet and mumbling to himself. He threw his dripping gloves down on the floor and stomped around rattling cups and coffee pot.
"What's the problem now?" I finally looked up, hoping it would be one of those simple to solve contradictions that His Lardness found so troubling. Naive me.
"Aw, some asshole left a canister of antimatter in the plutonium take-and-leave section. For fuck's sake, anyone knows that you don't just leave antimatter lying around where some kid could find it and bring it to school. (Hello class, Here's my science project. Kaboom.)"
For once he had good reason to be annoyed. Antimatter is about as stable as Maria Carey on crystal meth. Drop it or bump it the wrong way and you get a huge vacant crater where your dump and town used to be, preceded by a gigantic fireball that can be seen in Iowa.
"What did you do with it?" I was tapping my pencil impatiently, Lardass let out a snicker that sounded like the old Woody woodpecker cartoon.
"What did I DO? you ask? Like there is something you can DO about a canister of antimatter? Hmmn. Let me see what it says in the procedure manual....funny there is no fucking entry for antimatter! I wonder why! Maybe because you need to contain it in a lead lined magnetic hemispheric dumpster? And we ain't go no fucking extra lead lined dumpsters..."
Lardass was such a dolt. I sometimes wonder why we keep him on the payroll. Then I remember. We don't get a lot of new blood in the dump business, at least not in terms of applicants. Young people just don't dream about working at the dump, these days.
"Wait a minute." I said consulting the asset board which hung on my wall.. I pointed to an icon that represented specialized dumpsters. #3408 was located in the north forty near the big slag heap. "How about this one?"
"That thing got a hemi?" he asked.
"Get the fuck out of here and get that shit secured!"
Lardass was such a dolt. I sometimes wonder why we keep him on the payroll. Then I remember. We don't get a lot of new blood in the dump business, at least not in terms of applicants. Young people just don't dream about working at the dump, these days.
"Wait a minute." I said consulting the asset board which hung on my wall.. I pointed to an icon that represented specialized dumpsters. #3408 was located in the north forty near the big slag heap. "How about this one?"
"That thing got a hemi?" he asked.
"Get the fuck out of here and get that shit secured!"
He stomped out into the rain, smiling at his little joke.
