Monday, October 29, 2007
Chase’s meeting with the accountant was terminated abruptly by the scream and subsequent squelch. He rushed outside and, upon losing his pint-of-beer-and-Cornish-pasty lunch, wished he hadn’t. The body of his assistant had been spread liberally in a twenty yard radius. Pieces of cow were scattered among the pieces of a girl who had been so full of life that he’d had no time for her, preferring instead the terse business tone of his secretary to Penny’s incessant chatter.
The falling bovine had slammed the girl against the waist-high fence that stopped the goats from getting to Kermit the Pig’s food trough and she’d been sliced – in whatever the word was that meant the opposite of neatly – in two.
His accountant appeared at his right shoulder and surveyed the scene.
Chase turned away, focussing on Mr. Jasfoup’s elegant silk tie. “I can’t believe this,” he said.
The accountant nodded, his eyes calculating damages. “Look on the bright side,” he said. “At least now you have two half Pennys to rub together.