FANGED

Chapter Two

"Ahem," I cleared my throat loudly after standing in the doorway of Mr. B's office for more than five seconds. Patience was not my forte.

"I'm busy Mel," Big Boss Brion mumbled at me, not once taking his nose away from the computer screen. No wonder it was always greasy looking, I thought shuddering. The guy seriously needed to think about adding another layer to those lenses. At this rate, he might as well strap a couple of magnifying glasses to his face.

"It's of the upmost importance," I said primly.

"Everything with you is important and I'm still busy."

"I'll wait." I dropped my butt into a folding chair next to his behemoth desk and started tapping out a little ditty on top of the three ring binder which held the rules and regulations of being a model Superpumper employee.

Soon, the beat overtook me and I started tapping my feet. Before I knew it, I was drumming like Peter Criss at his Hello Kittiest, rocking out and totally getting lost in the groove.

"Mel!!" Brion's blotchy red pace was right smack dab in front of mine. Ewww!

"What?" I cringed back, wiping the spittle off my face with the sleeve of my shirt.

He straightened up crossing his arms over his concave chest and glared at me. "what do you want? And who is watching the front?"

I looked out the door of the storeroom which had a very clear view of the front counter.

"It's right there," I said pointing out the door.

"You can't be leaving your post, anybody could walk in and rob us blind."

I snorted. "Nobody can walk in without us seeing it. First of all, there is the little bell that goes ding-a-ling every time the door opens and second, the storeroom is right behind the counter. I can see it from here."

"This is NOT the storeroom!" he huffed, slamming his thin frame into his rolling chair sending it careening into a precariously stacked pyramid of toilet paper. An avalanche of white cylinders rained down on him and his precious desk.

One came rolling across the floor towards me like a forlorn puppy. Scooping it up, I handed it over to Mr. B whose face was an unnatural shade of puce.

"What the hell do you want Mel!" His voice sounded like ground glass.

I returned his glower with a sunny smile in hopes of improving his disposition.

"You really need to work on your communication skills, Mr. B," I lifted my eyebrows. "I came here to discuss employee policy so that I can better my abilities to serve the Superpumper family."

He rolled his eyes, brushing the dozen or so rolls of toilet paper off his desk. "The day you worry about becoming a model employee is the day I marry Felicia Day."

"Felix who?"

"Felicia Day!" he rasped, staring at me as if I had grown a second head. "She plays Vi on Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I shrugged my shoulders, still clueless to who he was talking about. "She's a World of Warcraft Goddess!"

I frowned. "Is that a movie?"

"Forget it. What do you want?" He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I imagined it felt like rubbing your fingers over braille. His forehead's desperate message for Proactiv.

I flopped the Blue Bible on his desk and flipped to the page where I'd been keeping my finger. "I want to confer with you about this." I said tapping my finger on the paragraph I'd ferreted out earlier.