by GLENN A. BRUCE
| Protest.20 by Elvert Barnes / Flickr I walk into his office, after hours. No one in the building, guards downstairs didn’t see me. Fuckwads. His office is as plain as he is, as dully average as the man himself, aside from the golf trophies, all won at company events, so they’re meaningless to anyone other than him or the people who come in his office on a daily, weekly, monthly or annual basis. His life is broken up into meaningless chapters of time. His name is Rory and he’s every bit the asshole you would imagine with a name like that. Rory Mavers. Mavers. (I laugh.) It takes the edge off his first name and gives him a feminine quality which I’m sure he abhors but convinces himself otherwise. He’s that way. About everything. Everything. |
