Well I’m still in the market for a Marketing Department. The Baboon Collective had to be demoted to a small dog house near the door where the Mail Boy comes in after it lost a square fight with Janice. Now, squaring a fight between a secretary and and science’s worst interpretation of a barrel of monkeys isn’t easy but balancing such seemingly imbalanced conflicts is an innate skill of mine. It’s how I know you can kill an adult human with 47 fighting roosters. I don’t even need to test this and my confidence is reflected in the fact that the crate in my office only ever contains 47 fighting roosters.
Janice is a human and lacks the natural weaponry that a baboon does since I had her fangs removed last Solstice. Ergo, I rated her nail file an acceptable replacement. What The Baboon Collective had over her in number of weapons, she had over it in dexterity. SPORT TIP: This attack/dexterity balance is actually a pretty good general rule for any combat between 32 year old women and slightly modified monkeys. Couple these details with the fact that The Baboon Collective began proceedings with a fairly crafty sneak attack and you’ve got yourself a fight that even my monstrous personal prejudice against Janice will qualify as fair.
Describing the outcome was tricky but were I doing a write-up for a sporting column I’d say Janice stabbed the bugger into some kind of meditative state. There’s some debate around the office but I’m leaning toward the theory that each of the 20 individual baboon minds had a different response to the pain and this overloaded the limited RAM of the standard primate. I once seen a toothless swamp mongoloid stab a gibbon over the ownership of a pickled egg and the gibbon went limp. This wasn’t limp. This was a kind of mid-fight resignation that took us all by surprise, Janice included as she got about seven or eight good stabs in well after the creature had stopped resisting. Some of the Mutants down in Custodial Duties have begun worshipping it as a Buddha which I’m fine with provided their emulative stabbing rituals don’t impede their duties. Actually, that reminds me, I need to send a memo out about religious holidays only counting if your religion is over 10 years old. Also, Janice’s triumph will be from noon to 5pm tomorrow and that the dress code will be the usual gold paint.
I put the dog house on a pedestal, partially because I read that baboons like to climb but mostly because this places it at Mail Boy head height and watching it chomp harmlessly into the confusing biological pavlova of a head the Mail Boy has amused me. And here I was thinking the thing had an unappealing but otherwise normal head. Goddamn 3D Printer, got me again! I wonder what’s going on there. I hadn’t even noticed its “teeth” were actually a single mass until earlier today. I might hit it with a scientific crossbow bolt or two.
In other news, Amber’s fingers, which she insists on referring to as “her handsome little meat girls” have gotten into the game makers perverts use to craft their lolita cockgirl fantasies. She claims it’s to build an actual RPG but she calls diarrhea “bum vomiting”, so I tend to listen to her as one “listens” to a breeze. I’m also writing other things that aren’t these, though these take up an exceptional amount of time, so there’ll be those for you to try to understand. Remember, keep at it. Even if you’re a barely functional dipshit that doesn’t mean you can’t be a better quality of barely functional dipshit.
Beans are just plant testicles.