proxy, scavenger, chancery, giblet, goblet, nugget

Here’s a nugget for you: I met today with a fellow named Alan Storm. Bright as could be. I knew he wouldn’t want to work for me.

I did not disguise my pleasure with him. I told him, the question isn’t whether or not I want you, it’s whether or not you want me. Would you be bored?

He liked the forthcoming nature of my request. And said, frankly, he might be.

I scavenged on.

You could work part-time, whenever moved to work. Or not. You could work from home. We could meet for coffee.

He was an affable fellow, and smart, and I hope to procure him by any means necessary.

I was wishing for a younger, more stylish proxy to send in my own stead. She could be wiretapped, I could wait in a van nearby for the outcome. If she were to stumble on technicalities, I could whisper into her ear, through the invisible wire. She would have to have medium length brown hair, of course, and blue eyes would be best.

On my way there, I may have passed, by chance, a chancery, for I was in the legal district for a moment. It’s hard to be sure.

This much I can assure you of: eating the viscera of a fowl is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Just the other day, in the giblet aisle at the grocery store, I almost succumbed, but thought, no, I really don’t need to be stooping to bottom-shelf meats. But still. Only a buck ninety-nine. So delicious, and so affordable. And, you know, in the interest of the animal who gave her viscera for me, do I not honor said fowl by eating each and very portion of her which can give sustenance?

Back to Alan Storm. Trying any seductive means in my grasp, we diverged into the topics of literature and Art. Now, Alan has a degree in photojournalism. He found that lot to be more snobbish than his tastes could allow, so he keeps his artistic self hidden somewhat. He chose the computer route so that he could make some money to get by with, whilst secretly being an artist. I like that in a fellow. Okay, he didn’t say he would be secretive. But, had I a goblet filled with the finest wine, when he announced this, I’d have raised my goblet, a time or two, in tribute. To the young fellow I hope to take under my wing. I shall coddle him ever so well if he will just come near.

In closing he divulged that he has no fewer than 3 interviews this week. He’s so bright and clever and witty, I know he’ll take his pick of the crop. I said, meekly, it seemed, “Well, whatever your choice, I hope it works out.”

He cocked his head, slightly, it seemed, and replied, thoughtfully, it would seem, “Well, whatever I get, it will work out.” I raised my eyebrows, and he explained, “for, whatever I choose, that will be what I have chosen.”

As I said, I like the lad, and pray, to that God invoked in yesterday’s post, that I have the wherewithal to never refer to him as laddie in his presence. Nor to let him know I’d let him sit in my lap if he’d just come and code with me.

My blessings to you and you’rn, until tomorrow, when I shall update you of my phone screen with a fellow name o’ Johnny Bliss.

Blissfully yours,
Emily

manana / infidel / echo / plonk / erectile / ere / prognosticate / squirt