3.a.ii
“So I thought
you wanted your neck-cape-thing.”
“Huh. Wuh?”
“Yoohoo,
Jonesy? Off in la la land again?” Tanya
asked.
“Kind of. And call me Corporate Man,” Mr. Jones said.
“No
thanks. I’ll stick with Jonesy.”
“But–”
“No. You put on your costume and your special
necktie and then I might call you Corporate Man,” Tanya said.
“Come on,
Business Wo–”
“Ah ah
ah. Tanya’s just fine for now.”
“Until you’re
in your costume I suppose,” said Mr. Jones.
“Oh, hell
no. You think I’m wearing that thing
again? My boobs aren’t nearly as perky
as they were in the nineties and there’s a bit more than muscle to my thighs
these days.”
Mr. Jones
thought for a moment and then he grinned.
“I see you
recall it then.”
“Yeah. Wow.
What an outfit.”
“Well, it was the nineties. Everything was skimpy-bad-girl garbage back
then.”
“Hey, one
man’s trash is another man’s–”
“Prostitute?”
“I wasn’t–”
“No, no, trash
is right. And that’s where that costume
is staying,” Tanya said.
Mr. Jones
looked out the window of the nondescript automobile and thought back to better
times. It was dark outside. After Pricebusters and The Greed they had
fled the superstore and made their way to a safe house, one of many that Tanya
kept throughout the city. After some
long deserved showers they’d picked up one of Tanya’s emergency cars at a local
garage.
“So I thought
you wanted to go get your special tie.”
“Yeah, I do,
but without a current portfolio it won’t do me much good,” Mr. Jones said.
“And you can
get this at a Shepley’s?”
“Well,
no. But I know they’ve got a big
electronics department there. I’ll need
something high tech. Something… gadgety.
