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No Comfort Breaks
Required
I should have thought of this years ago. For too long I
suffered the burden of a demanding workforce. Never satisfied. Forever bleating
about their “rights”. Damned socialist nonsense.
Mama DuChance changed all that, came to me with an idea.
Employ the dead to work my call centre. Their needs, as far as I can tell, are
few. Being dead, they enjoy no protection under discrimination laws. I can
pinch the women’s bottoms with impunity.
What’s that damn noise coming from the trading floor? Some
kind of chanting. One word: flesh.
Chairs scrape as they rise. They’re heading this way.
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