Thursday, July 15, 2004

Under Deadline

Me: (Peering over counter, on tiptoes, to look at the printer)Are you out of paper, you little son-of-a-gun???



Her: (sitting by the phones) You know, they have medication for that now, Jen.



Me: I know. I'm actually ON it.



Her: Well (flipping newspaper page), I don't think it's working today.

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