“Uh… What?”
Anthony here, dialing a phone. No longer am I banging my head against a desk; now I’m jamming keys as fast as I can into my cell, all the while a talking flower stares absently at a screen, unsure whether to shout or laugh. My feelings were much the same as the boss upstairs answered, Sherry asking
“Something wrong, or are you stuck again with my father’s horrid handwriting?”
“I just wrote the part about the catholic priest, the cross and homosexual marriage. Can we discuss that for a moment?”
“Sure. What’s wrong?”
Everything!
Everything is wrong with that statement!
“So… normally I don’t complain about political correctness… and far be it for me to interject my personal views into the story… but we really have to include Seth’s statement verbatim?”
“You do.”
“They’re going to call Seth a moron. They’re going to criticize him for being a homophobic zealot. This is going to start showing up in right wing extremist’s signatures as a sort of standard of truth. This is not the sort of thing you want published in your name.”
“I don’t care. Do it.”
The Flower was already trying to cheat, attempting to mash his head into the delete key and rid the manuscript of that dreadful analogy. While I was prone to agree with Flow, I also had a job to not only keep, but fulfill.
“Alright, but on one condition.”
“Depends.”
“I want an entire page, in bold, stating how the views of the narrator do not reflect company policy or the thoughts of the author. Even if it’s not a temple marriage… Seth just went a step to far.”
“Understood.” Sherry replied, still uncaring as ever. How did she become so emotional sometimes and so dead at other moments? “Anything else you want to pass by? I’m being serious here; I completely forgot the dildo thing.”
“No… but I’ll let you know if something comes u-”
Flow bit me, a rather nice experience all things considering given his lack of teeth, that was his way of telling me he wanted to talk. Moving the cell to his mouth, the living flower inhaled deeply as his white face prepared to chat…
Before he practically yelled “How the hell are you so normal if this guy was your foster parent?”
I think I actually heard Sherry Sears laugh to that. “What makes you think I’m normal?”
I ended it before I had to hear anymore humor from the blue haired boss, looking to the homicidal flower before me with a certain degree of fear. What’s worse? I think I actually saw scared for the first time ever since I met him.
Times of Peace: Volume 1 of the side adventures to The Mercenary's Salvation Page 43
