Wednesday, August 08, 2018
Man’s Great Secret!
Holds! Won’t tell!
Try wife, friends...
No hint!
Years!
FINALLY TELLS!
Universe:
Is THAT all?
However puny yours,
Shut up about it?Labels: friends, Great Secret, secret
Friday, December 05, 2014
Odd Job
The few times Skutz met other employees,
he asked them about their work. He had
glimpsed hints of it from the papers
crossing his desk.
This was evidently an etiquette breach,
for all communications from the company
henceforth came to his home. And no other
company person came near his office.
And what came across his desk was now
coded, except for the signature on the bottom.
He had been instructed to stamp everything
APPROVED.
Which he did. For eight years.
Then he was told to stamp nothing unless
it contained the name, Murcer.
That was easy. All signed by Murcer anyway.
A very large signature he knew by heart.
No first name.
Three more years passed, pleasantly enough.
He had gotten used to seeing no other
worker.
Then one morning, the very first paper,
contained the word, Murder.
He locked it in his top drawer.
No paper qualified after that, not having
the signature.
The obvious conclusion: Murcer was murdered.
But his not to reason why.
Soon enough, another communication in his home
mailbox notifying him to stamp nothing not
containing the name Oggnurst.
He wonders, for years now, what that name can
be turned into.
Labels: corporate ethics, corporate murder, murder, office, secret, secret work, solo worker, strange employer, working
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Before Her Time
Lara
beat the social media craze. Long before Facebook
and LinkedIn, she handled a network of about two dozen.
And she told each her secret.
Extracting the promise not to tell another!
Would you believe that promise kept?
Flies against the odds.
Thus she, at eighteen, was spared ugly and brutish and
sarcastic and vicious gossip.
This last from women.
What WAS Lara’s secret?
As one of the two dozen, my lips remain sealed.
Sexual in nature?
At eighteen? How could you get such an idea?
Labels: eighteen, Facebook, LinkedIn, secret, sex, women
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Seedy Bond
One of those higher chains where the furniture waxed,
and the food matches.
"Tell Ed..." begins the older man.
"that the gray goose is dead," adds the younger.
The former's next whispered line gets stepped on by a woman
in a dress hugely flowered. She hears acutely, a family trait.
"Count feathers for a bed," he almost gets out as she blurts
"Espionage!"
Both men laugh. Nervously. The older softpedals: "Just a folk
song, Ma'm."
They leave shortly, separately.
The younger texts midwestern.
The older answers lard.
Labels: CIA, code, folk, hearing, operators, secret
