Salt and Pepper

Camille was a peach who never complained, but she said, “Barbara is high on baby hormones and thinks it’s okay to ask me to work through the weekend on these PowerPoint redesigns.” Her pale and pretty English face unusually flushed with worry.

“Barbara can go eat a nice, big piece of shit. She can come see me if she needs some salt and pepper, and I will tell her that,” I replied. Then we laughed our arses off for the rest of the afternoon picturing her gran drinking whiskey in a time-traveling hot tub, cause that’s what we did on Fridays.

— Edgar

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