The “L” Program testing is over. While I wish I could say I am the picture of relaxation now, it would be a bald faced lie.
I have no clue what I bald faced lie even means… a freshly shaved lie? A lie that woke up an extra fifteen minutes early to get rid of that stubble to make a good impression at work and perhaps FINALLY get moved into the corner cubicle. A cubicle, which, by the way the lie completely deserves over Steve Mulberry because the lie has seniority AND clinched the Detroit deal. And while the lie isn’t glad per say that Laura got a job with Williams & Williams – she was the nicest of everyone on the floor – he at least would like to be acknowledged for his contributions once in a while. I mean, five years. FIVE YEARS! And this is IT?! A cactus plant on the lie’s birthday and a shitty desk right under the AC vent?!
The lie starts to drink a little more than he should after work and that bleeds into work related events. It will finally culminate at next year’s Christmas, oh I am sorry HOLIDAY, party where he punches Steve. Which he has had coming A LONG time by the way. The next morning the lie will find himself packing a box with the small number of personal effects he has at his desk, still under the vent, and being escorted out of the building. When the security guard goes back inside the lie whirls around and chucks that damned cactus right at the door. He didn’t think, he just did it and the door shatters, revealing the security guard standing just on the other side with an awe struck face. That will be the funniest part to the lie, when he thinks back on the entire ordeal.
Not funny at the time though, especially when the police are putting him in cuffs and christ is that Steve? He walks by and doesn’t even look at the lie, just walks by like the lie is not even a living freaking creature! There is a shattered goddamned door that he has to walk through and he is still determined to ignore the lie?
“Nice shiner!” The lie yells and Steve stops for a step then continues walking. After the lie gets out of the station he goes home and disappears into a bottle for a while. A week later he stumbles into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror, rank and disheveled with a week’s growth on his jaw.
“Look at you,” he spits at his reflection. “You used to be a bald faced lie.”
So no, I suppose I am not quite yet wound down from the “L” testing.