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- Xref: sparky alt.non.sequitur:872 talk.bizarre:43156
- Newsgroups: alt.non.sequitur,talk.bizarre
- Path: sparky!uunet!munnari.oz.au!spool.mu.edu!umn.edu!csus.edu!netcom.com!gooley
- From: gooley@netcom.com (Mark. Gooley)
- Subject: sulfur prosthetics gleam orange under the burning sea
- Message-ID: <1992Dec30.155545.7912@netcom.com>
- Followup-To: alt.fan.gooley,alt.cesium,alt.spleen
- Summary: nigra sum sed formosa, and does anybody read this line?
- Keywords: coleus, tarragon, maschil, burnish, epithelium, epithalamium
- Organization: The Gorilla-Shaped Cookie Trust, GmbH
- Date: Wed, 30 Dec 1992 15:55:45 GMT
- Lines: 64
-
- The Director's charming receptionist, Laura, chatted with me as
- I waited and as she filed some papers with a bastard-cut file. She had
- inky black hair and creamy skin, and over her paralyzed legs she wore a
- mermaid tail, dull bronze scales slowly giving way to her bare midriff
- so that I could not tell exactly where the costume ended and Laura began.
- Her wheelchair, all black graphite and sea-green nylon, was more a
- conveyance for a land-bound mermaid than for a cripple; her bikini top
- and light jacket seemed to be made of purple seaweed, and her perfume
- smelled of orchids with just a hint of kelp. A young man dropped by on
- no particular errand and stared at her with undisguised desire, smitten
- by the resident mermaid, until he could think of no further conversation
- to make.
- "Wouldn't even look at me before I got the tail," said Laura,
- after he had left. "Now he's in love." Presently a box on her desk flashed
- a green light and gave a chime, and with surprising agility she zipped to
- the door to the Director's office and let me in.
- "Ah, Jenkins, good morning," said the Director.
- "It's afternoon, sir," I told him.
- "A confession to make, Jenkins," the Director went on, taking no
- notice of what I had said. "You see, for some time I have been practicing
- a deception on my staff, and I think that you should be the first to know
- the truth."
- "Well, sir?" I asked him, after a pause of a full fifteen seconds.
- "Perhaps I'd better, ah, show you," he said, and he clawed at his
- face, tearing off pieces of rubber that I had thought his skin, pulled off
- what I had long known to be a toupee, and revealed himself to be a pleasant-
- faced woman of perhaps thirty-five.
- "You see how this might be a bit embarrassing, Jenkins," she said
- in a warm (30 degrees C.) contralto voice.
- "Yes, ma'am," I said. "Nobody will see why it was necessary."
- "Frankly, Jenkins," she said, brushing out her hair so that it
- fell in becoming chestnut-brown waves of hackneyed beauty, "I'm not sure,
- either, why I did it."
- "Just a convention of this type of story?" I suggested.
- "Probably," she said. She got up, her womanly head incongrous on
- a masculine-looking body, and from a closet took out a decorated screen and
- some expensive-looking feminine clothes. As she removed the rest of her
- disguise and put on the new clothes, we discussed my mission.
- The woman who stepped out from behind the screen looked like a
- lovely young executive in a long dress rather than in a business suit.
- "I'll be your partner for this mission," she said. She seemed to have
- become younger: certainly she was not over thirty now.
- "Won't you be recognized?" I asked.
- "I haven't appeared in public undisguised since I graduated from
- Smith College," she said.
- "O Lord," I said, "not a Smithie."
- "'Fraid so," she said, with a charming giggle.
- We posed as husband and wife. She slipped into her role as a
- stockbroker, and I slipped into mine as a champion breeder of Dobermans.
- A consummate professional, she played her part to the hilt, at no time
- letting slip that she was not who she seemed to be. I followed suit, even
- though dogs instinctively attack me (making my job nightmarish until I
- learned to control them).
- A year after our mission began, I drove her to a deserted spot in
- the woods, one certainly free of listening devices. "What about our mission?"
- I asked her. "I've been doing nothing. Are you engaged in something where
- you work?"
- "Darling," she said, perfectly portraying a bewildered and concerned
- wife, "what in Heaven's name are you talking about? Mission?"
-
- It's not a bad life, I suppose.
-
- Mark., losing my touch
- gooley@netcom.com
-