So while rummaging through the backlogs of my writing life...
I found
When Daniel Creffield (thirty-one, still single, not balding yet but getting that tricorner look) first stands in front of his boss with his pants pooled around his feet, obnoxious boxers glaring and his best friend snickering from a corner chair, he has to say that it is perhaps one of the most liberating experiences of his life.
His boss is, of course, three thousand miles away in some huge fucking Four Seasons hotel, but that does not, in any way, shape or form, diminish the joy of Daniel’s first defiance. Perry Evans teeters from a corner, body heaving with silent laughter, and it is at this point that Dan realizes that he, too, is struggling to keep it together.
But Dan Creffield is a professional, and with such a badge, he must remain professional - even with his pants down.
“So how are the numbers looking?” Richard Slany asks from the center of the table, via the conference phone.
Daniel blinks, clears his throat and glances towards the manila near his left hand.
Actually, Richard, the numbers look fantastically shitty. But how are you?
“Well, sir, it seems that we’re going through a down period - since the Dow dropped ten points last Friday, orders have substantially dropped.”
Slany curses elegantly, a trait that it seems only bosses have the capability to do, before continuing. “What are you going to do about it?”
Well, sir, I am going to openly mock you in my boxers.
Daniel pauses a long moment, considering, and then begins, speaking with the soothing Investment Voice. This voice has wooed cranky lawyers, half-assed politicians and a wide variety of do-nothings with a lot of money.
It is the voice of reason. Of wealth.
And Daniel pulls it off very well.
So well, in fact, that when Richard Slany slams down the phone three minutes later with something on his tongue that sounds suspiciously like road mucker (or something), Daniel Creffield knows that he has succeeded in placating his boss.
...all with his pants down.
Perry bursts into barely restrained hysterics two seconds after the click, tears running down his face as he slowly rolls out of his chair and onto the floor. Daniel is quick to make sure that his line is disconnected from Richard Slany’s line before he pulls his pants back up.
Perry has reached the hiccup stage and - a hand clawing at the table as he struggles to rise from the floor - manages to go silent for half a second before he makes eye-contact with Danny.
There is a strained pause, and then, without warning, Perry drops back to the carpet, laughing in between snorts and choked spurts indicating diaphram spasms.
Daniel seems more graceful at this point, feet up on the table as he sits in a chair and waits for the usually very reserved Perry Evans to pull himself together.
It takes a little longer than usual (one-hundred and twenty seconds compared to the usual sixty) but Perry finally gets there, rising to his feet with a very believable facade of dignity and pride as he carefully straightens his tie.
Danny and Perry regard one another silently for a moment before Daniel lets out a loud snort and his chest begins heaving.
Perry pretends that he doesn’t know what Daniel is laughing at.
“It’s not like you’ve never seen me laugh like that before,” he says, once Dan’s face has smoothed into blank neutrality.
“Not sober,” Dan replies.
Perry turns red, and quickly he changes the subject.
“So, is this going to become a daily thing?”
Dan considers the question thoughtfully, lips pursed as his gaze transfers between the conference phone and his own shoe.
“Dunno,” Dan asks. “Try it with the other guys and tell me how it goes.”
...I'm not quite sure what drugs I was on when this manifested. But if frightens me a little bit. I suspect, actually, that Hot Fuzz has something to do with it, and that scares me further.
In other news, The Watchmen made me give a sad face. ;_; There were some spectacular parts (the opening, OMG, and Rorschach kicking ass and taking names, and Dr. Manhattan (and his entire flashback thing was absolutely heartbreaking and fantastic), who I suddenly sympathize a lot more than I did previously), but otherwise I thought the acting for Dan and Laurie was bad bad bad and the sex scene just embarassing. It was like cheap, soft-core porn with caps and heels and pouchy middle-aged men. Not that I'm a particular conaisseur of porn, but...
But yeah. That's it. Procrastinating on French and le subjonctif. C'est la vie, non?
When Daniel Creffield (thirty-one, still single, not balding yet but getting that tricorner look) first stands in front of his boss with his pants pooled around his feet, obnoxious boxers glaring and his best friend snickering from a corner chair, he has to say that it is perhaps one of the most liberating experiences of his life.
His boss is, of course, three thousand miles away in some huge fucking Four Seasons hotel, but that does not, in any way, shape or form, diminish the joy of Daniel’s first defiance. Perry Evans teeters from a corner, body heaving with silent laughter, and it is at this point that Dan realizes that he, too, is struggling to keep it together.
But Dan Creffield is a professional, and with such a badge, he must remain professional - even with his pants down.
“So how are the numbers looking?” Richard Slany asks from the center of the table, via the conference phone.
Daniel blinks, clears his throat and glances towards the manila near his left hand.
Actually, Richard, the numbers look fantastically shitty. But how are you?
“Well, sir, it seems that we’re going through a down period - since the Dow dropped ten points last Friday, orders have substantially dropped.”
Slany curses elegantly, a trait that it seems only bosses have the capability to do, before continuing. “What are you going to do about it?”
Well, sir, I am going to openly mock you in my boxers.
Daniel pauses a long moment, considering, and then begins, speaking with the soothing Investment Voice. This voice has wooed cranky lawyers, half-assed politicians and a wide variety of do-nothings with a lot of money.
It is the voice of reason. Of wealth.
And Daniel pulls it off very well.
So well, in fact, that when Richard Slany slams down the phone three minutes later with something on his tongue that sounds suspiciously like road mucker (or something), Daniel Creffield knows that he has succeeded in placating his boss.
...all with his pants down.
Perry bursts into barely restrained hysterics two seconds after the click, tears running down his face as he slowly rolls out of his chair and onto the floor. Daniel is quick to make sure that his line is disconnected from Richard Slany’s line before he pulls his pants back up.
Perry has reached the hiccup stage and - a hand clawing at the table as he struggles to rise from the floor - manages to go silent for half a second before he makes eye-contact with Danny.
There is a strained pause, and then, without warning, Perry drops back to the carpet, laughing in between snorts and choked spurts indicating diaphram spasms.
Daniel seems more graceful at this point, feet up on the table as he sits in a chair and waits for the usually very reserved Perry Evans to pull himself together.
It takes a little longer than usual (one-hundred and twenty seconds compared to the usual sixty) but Perry finally gets there, rising to his feet with a very believable facade of dignity and pride as he carefully straightens his tie.
Danny and Perry regard one another silently for a moment before Daniel lets out a loud snort and his chest begins heaving.
Perry pretends that he doesn’t know what Daniel is laughing at.
“It’s not like you’ve never seen me laugh like that before,” he says, once Dan’s face has smoothed into blank neutrality.
“Not sober,” Dan replies.
Perry turns red, and quickly he changes the subject.
“So, is this going to become a daily thing?”
Dan considers the question thoughtfully, lips pursed as his gaze transfers between the conference phone and his own shoe.
“Dunno,” Dan asks. “Try it with the other guys and tell me how it goes.”
...I'm not quite sure what drugs I was on when this manifested. But if frightens me a little bit. I suspect, actually, that Hot Fuzz has something to do with it, and that scares me further.
In other news, The Watchmen made me give a sad face. ;_; There were some spectacular parts (the opening, OMG, and Rorschach kicking ass and taking names, and Dr. Manhattan (and his entire flashback thing was absolutely heartbreaking and fantastic), who I suddenly sympathize a lot more than I did previously), but otherwise I thought the acting for Dan and Laurie was bad bad bad and the sex scene just embarassing. It was like cheap, soft-core porn with caps and heels and pouchy middle-aged men. Not that I'm a particular conaisseur of porn, but...
But yeah. That's it. Procrastinating on French and le subjonctif. C'est la vie, non?