Corporate
Whore entered a large auditorium. She
hated plays. She had to find a way out
of this monument to artistry. She hated
music. She ran down the center aisle
toward the stage. She hated debate
teams. When she reached the stage she
jump-rolled up onto it and sped toward a door just behind the curtain on
left. She hated stage-left.
Corporate
Man dropped down from above, red tie flittering over his shoulder. She’d like to choke him with that tie. Unfortunately his outstretched arm was balled
into a fist and that fist was introducing itself to her face in a most impolite
manner.
Corporate Whore’s feet betrayed her
next by going out from under her at a very inopportune moment. When she hit the stage all of her air abandoned
her lungs. Her hands slapped the floor
and her diamond card deserted her like a skittering little bitch of a thing.
These treacheries enflamed her anger to a white hot peak and she sprang to her
feet and was lunging at Corporate Man’s throat before she’d even managed a gasp
for breath.
Her thumbs squeezed his stupid
man-apple and her fingers clawed his neck-flesh. She opened her mouth to scream a scathing
disparagement. “Gwaaahhh!” is all she
managed as she sucked involuntarily for air.
This biological need caught her off guard and her grip around Corporate
Man’s throat slackened. He pivoted,
grabbed her wrists, and flung her away.
It was a prosperous turn. He’d flung her directly towards the stairs
she’d been running toward. She let the
momentum carry her through the door and up the first few steps before she really
poured it on, fully committing to the climb.
