MBA - Moron$ Ba$ and A$$

by Jeff Blackwell

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Cat Scratch Fever

  Would that have really made a difference? Maybe if I could have seen what was coming, I could have avoided being a duct tape hot dog. Maybe not.

  I do think my head is clearing a bit. I just woke up with a smile on my face. Considering the circumstances, that is nothing short of a miracle. Right before I surfaced this time, I think I was recalling one of my favorite rock bands, PRI. PRI hit the scene hard in the early eighties with their monster debut album, Skid Mark. They were tight musically but pretty loose mentally. Despite repeated requests, their front man, Thaddius Arse, refused to reveal what PRI stood for. Legend has it that an over-aged groupie from Indiana got TA roaring drunk one night on a combination of Boones Farm and Chivas Regal. How drunk? When I say over-aged, I’m talking Social Security eligible. Anyway, at a delicate moment aided greatly by a KY type product, she got Thad to admit the group’s full name was Painful Rectal Itch. She threatened to go to the press the same day unless he coughed up ten grand. Thad immediately called his accountant and authorized a payment of ten thousand dollars to the largest billboard companies in Los Angeles. They plastered Painful Rectal Itch advertisements throughout the city. Album sales skyrocketed. Later, Arse and his lead guitarist, Tung Rotten , had a huge fight having something to do with a Baby Ruth bar, Pepto Bismol and an M-80. Tung left and formed his own band, SS. Although never confirmed, most believed rumors that SS stood for Sandpaper Scratch. Is it any wonder I love rock and roll? Oh well. Let me close my eyes a few more minutes and see if I can recall something that is actually semi-pertinent to this fucked up situation.

  Demand for X-400 was growing and so were our profits. We were up to running it about once a week. The Circle members were working long hours inputting the X-400 parameters and answering Dusty’s questions along with our regular jobs. But I’m not sure Chuck was keeping busy enough. He seemed to find the time to bust my balls.

  “Hey, Mick, I’m still not believing your report about that weekend. I think you climbed mountains, forded streams and found your dream.”

  “That is none of your business. And I was not looking for my dream.”

  “I take that evasive response as an affirmative response.”

  “Take whatever you like. And now I will take it that you are a Julie Andrews aficionado.”

  “You bet your whiskers on a kitten’s ass about that. Beats the shit out of that stoner crap you go on and on about.”

  This conversation wasn’t worth filling my lungs with sweet Carolina air to continue.

  “I gotta run to a meeting. Dusty may have found another chink in our armor.”

  “Well. Sounds like you’ve gone from a good night to a bad knight.”

  I don’t know what Chuck had been smoking lately, but he was kind of on quick quip fire.

  “Seriously. Our X-400 security is beginning to look about as strong as a Lindsay Lohan sobriety pledge.”

  “Who? Look. I know this is serious. And I am getting very concerned. Let me know what she reports out.”

  At the end of another long and discouraging day, I found myself plopped down in Chuck’s office trying not to look like I had a long and discouraging day.

  “Well?”

  “Well. I got good news and bad news.”

  “Let’s hear the good news first.”

  “Dusty wore her scoop cut blouse and tight white jeans today. I’m pretty sure that she was sporting a T- back and was supported on top by one of Victoria’s Secret’s finer products.”

  “Very interesting. What else on the good side?”

  “It was a gorgeous day and the forecasted rain didn’t arrive.”

  “Shit. That’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Continue.”

  “It seems she was able to come up with the run time formula using some sophisticated analytical techniques.”

  “I’m all ears. But keep it simple.”

  Tens of thousands of snappy comebacks to that one were easily retrievable from my smart ass cloud storage. However, I was in too much of a funk to even begin to download them.

  “It seems that Phil likes to scratch down the run time calculations on a piece of paper before he inputs them.”

  “And the idiot geek doesn’t destroy the paper afterwards?”

  “Oh, he destroys it all right. He actually goes out the smoking pad and burns it to a crisp. He then deposits the ashes in the butt can.”

  “And Dusty was able to piece them back together?”

  “Look, Charles. She’s good, but she ain’t friggin’ Wonder Woman.”

  “So, what then? Sounds like Phil is taking a back seat to no one when it comes to being anal.”

  Mrs. Chuck must have found some new boudoir techniques at home. Chuck was starting to gain a bit on me in the verbal Olympics. But I was still a Phelps to his Eddie the Eagle.

  “Correct. Except Phil likes to have a sheet or two of scrap paper underneath what he is writing on. He thinks it keeps the ink flowing more smoothly. Unfortunately, these scraps pick up impressions from his jottings. At the end of the day, he tosses them into the trash. Using advanced tools like dumpster diving and a #2 pencil, Dusty was able to retrieve his scrap paper and, presto chango, recover his notes with a little bit of second grade lead rubbing.”

  “You mean like running the pencil over the impressions to make them stand out?”

  “Yup. Just like you see in every cheap detective TV series.”

  “Crap. Do I need to take his geeky ass out to the woodshed and go all Alpha Beta on him?”

  “Alpha Beta?”

  “Yeah. The jock fraternity in Revenge of the Nerds. Did I actually site a pop culture reference that you didn’t know? I guess this day ain’t all gloom and doom.”

  God, I must have been tired. “Score one for Mr. G. But, no. I wouldn’t put the paddle to the addled. And it’s not just because the Tri-Lambs might get pissed. So far, we have three out of five Circle members whose ‘never can be broken’ X-400 security protocols have been severely fractured. We should be collectively beating ourselves up, not individually.”

  “Yeah, she is good and we are starting to look bad. But that still leaves temperature and pressure and start up sequencing. That is you and me, Mick. I don’t write shit down or invoice anyone or let anyone near my backdoor. Do you?”

  “No fucking way, boss.”

  “No one can make X-400 without knowing those parameters. So, while we need to tighten up the other three, we are still good. No way she breaks us. Right?”

  “Truer words never spoken. Even she admits she can’t see any weaknesses in the way you and I do things. But just watch your ass around her for the next few weeks. I’m sure you’ll be watching hers.”