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"I once listened to a so-called 'expert' tell me that Purina Hi-Pro led to hyperactivity in dogs... even after I reminded him that Hi-Pro isn't even that high in protein!"

I cannot fathom how a person can be this tedious, I think to myself, as the incredibly cute but even more incredibly tedious veterinarian continues to rant to me about dog nutrition. And it's not that I'm not a dog person. I love dogs. I just can't stand talking.

Soon enough though, she gets the hint. The thing about pretty girls is that they are often socially well-adapted. Not too much time spent alone, not so dense as to miss the subtle non-verbal cues that I am sending at this very instant. Things like looking over her shoulder at a less attractive but presumably more interesting person. The vet looks over her shoulder, then looks back, following my line-of-sight, then huffs. "I thought you were a dog person!" and walks away. I am, I think to myself, and if I had my dog with me, I would have it pounce on your exposed and fragile neck, you tedious ass.

I forget about how tedious her ass was, and decide to merely enjoy the view of it as it walks away. She dresses well for a girl with a lot of education. I once told a friend a joke about girls being educated and pretty. I won't go into the details, but she didn't find it particularly funny. She was starting her Ph.D., so it figured.

Suddenly, my phone rang, but with a special ring-tone associated only with that one particular number that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart beat oh-so-slightly faster. It was my handler.

I sent a busy signal. There's no one at the end of the line anyway. Well, someone initiated the call, but I would never speak to them. Think of me as ... a lightbulb. I shine light down into a room, or onto a desk. I do my job. The handler is the light switch. The handler is merely a conveyor of instruction. Someone else flicked the switch. And I am the light.

So I have to leave the party. Since I am a regular party-pooper, who doesn't like to drink much, and like to leave early, this is easy. It is expected. It is in fact surprising, to most people, that I showed up at all. It's part of my strategy, however. Random rewards (my appearances) for good behavior (inviting me) are a better training strategy than constant reward. I know this because I am actually a dog person. I just hate tedious bitches... That's a dog joke. And a bitch joke. As I unlock the door to my car, I realize I'm irritated because I was hoping to like her. Oh well. There must be hundreds of sexy educated vet women who are interested in me in this city. Maybe thousands.

My car is fast, and I drive it fast, and get to office in just a few minutes. Traffic is light this time of night. The office is locked up, but I'm not going through the front. Instead, I turn the corner and head into the alley, and unlock a nondescript, heavy stainless steel door, polished and gleaming in the dark. That was a joke. I described something nondescript. I laugh to myself, but it's a empty, hollow, nondescript laugh. God I kill me.

I love the office. Not the front that opens onto the street, that says "Jardine and LeBlanc Engineering, Ltd." The real office. Not the one that is staffed by a friendly old lady who works at the front desk, who actually believes she is an administrative assistant in an engineering office that does no work. Not the one that is also staffed by a young engineering student who doesn't understand at all why he is being paid to study graduate level fluid dynamics to keep him busy in the complete absence of real project. Rather, the office that is lit with cool blue neon lights. Jardine had those installed on day 1. He said they were very important, that "the excitement of what we do is as important to us as the end result!" The office that has several (15 actually) flat screen monitors, several (3 to be exact) touch display tables, and many (320) guns, stored on a few (4) shelves.

I pause, in the middle of getting undressed, and find it interesting that 3 touch display tables is called "several" but 4 shelves is called "a few". Everything i relative, I suppose.

I put on my work suit, which is a tight fitting black kevlar outfit that Jardine made. I strap several doodads and guns to me, and the check my email. I really ought to get the new Blackberry. It would be so convenient, and I love the faux leather backer. My phone sucks.

To be continued...

Comments - Mitch, 2008-10-30, 14:20:57 This is a test. To see if the comments are still working, since the comment section receives so little attention these days.

Robyn, 2008-10-30, 18:58:18 Here is a comment: all vets are crazy.