PTI Part III by Annie
"Oh no. Not again." said the deputy. He then pulled a walkie talkie from his back pocket and radioed the station. "This is Deputy Kaelin. Who's turn is it to come down to the auction house and pick up Stan?"

A female voice on the radio crackled "Buzz is on his way."

The deputy looked at Anna and laughed. "Well miss, as you can see, Stan here is a bit of a monkey. This is not the first nor the last time you will see him like this. If you will allow me to take him off your hands, we'll just let him rest comfortably until Buzz gets here."

"Will he be allright?" she asked.

"Oh, no worries my dear. This is nothing out of the ordinary for him. Now, where were we?" he asked.

Anna extended her hand and replied "My name is Annabella Montoya but my friends call me Anna. I was just about to thank you for helping me out with that family. It appears that I may have made a poor first impression upon the folks around here."

"Well they're not too keen on outsiders coming in but you'll give them plenty to gossip about now. There's a story behind the pin that I think you should hear. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?" asked the deputy.

Anna was intrigued. "Sure," she replied.

The deputy asked a burly young man to look after Stan and then the two made their way back to the concession stand amid stares from the locals. The deputy ordered two cups of coffee - both black - and placed one on either side of a picnic table that was located nearby. As Anna and the deputy took their places, she noticed that the other tables around them quickly filled up as well.

"So let me guess," said Anna, "I either took away someone's livlihood on eBay or else I have purchased an item belonging to some sort of local legend."

The deputy grinned. "You could say that. You see, about 60 years ago, there was a murder suicide here involving Rose, the original owner of the pin. Rose and her husband owned a place not too far outside of town and they had a young man working for them. There was an affair and things ended badly. Now, why a 19 year old boy would be attracted to such an older woman is beyond me but that wasn't what was so unusual."

To be continued...

"Pardon the Interruption Part 2 and a Half" by Bingo the Monkey
I had no idea how long I had been inside that Kenmore Refrigerator when I woke up, my drool completely stuck to an ice cube tray. It could have been a week, but was probably more like six hours. I had spent the night before dying in the humid summer swelter of whatever crapbox town this was. I can't even remember what band I rode in here with. Was it the Goo Goo Dolls? No, those guys are posers. Was it Alice Cooper? I wish, but he won't answer my calls anymore since I told his wife I'd like to stroke her with my golf club. Maybe it was Journey...yeah, that's it. Journey.

Anyway, after the show I decided to head down into the labyrinth of a state fair that Journey had just rocked with their sweet early eighties power ballads. I had made it as far as the Pamida parking lot when I realized that I was completely sober for the first time in seven months. And that just isn't right. The last time I'd been sober was when I was touring with Jars of Clay, and all I could do was get drunk off of cooking wine. I couldn't drink again for a week. That crap is so salty it sank my eyes into my head making even scary old men with similarly sunken eyes run from me in fear. During that week I toured with Slipknot. That was fun.

Back to being sober in the parking lot: I was pissed off, how dare I let myself be normal?? I looked around and for some reason there was a fridge sitting next to a truck by the Casey's gas station next door. This confused me. "Maybe I'm not sober, maybe I'm so drunk that I'm thinking that I'm sober which in turn is causing me to then ponder if I am in fact drunk." I said this out loud, and when hearing the words and completely complex sentences that had past through my lips and soaked into my ear drums, I quickly freaked out. I was sober, and this was scary. I took a few minutes to lie crying softly in the fetal position right there in the Pamida parking lot. Then I got up, ran across the street and climbed inside that fridge. I figured, if it's not full of anything that can kill me, then at least it's like my mom, cold and unusually pale.

The next thing I knew, I was stuck to the ice cube tray, and for some reason there was a guy talking really fast, banging a gavel every minute. I thought I was back in court. The last time I was in court was for stealing Snoop Dogg's car and writing "Murder was the case that they framed me, bitch" on the hood. This would have been funny to Snoop, but I accidentally drove the car into the porch of the L.A. district attorney's mistress's house.

Thinking that I was back in court I completely lost it, and decided to try and make a get away.

I pounced out of the fridge screaming, "You can't keep me in a cage!! Axis of Evil! Evil Nixon Grin!! Attica Attica!!! No new taxes, no new taxes!! Michael's nose isn't real!!" It seemed that sobriety had gotten the worst of me, and I was just letting out all the things that bugged me in life. But everything I said just sounded like I was a psycho lunatic, because of the brick of ice sticking to my tongue. I had climbed into the arms of a very nice looking woman who was talking to a guy with the face of Karl Malden. The last thing I remember before passing out right there in her arms was her saying "You're first name isn't Kato is it?" One last scream came from me, "THE GLOVES DIDN'T FIT, THE GLOVES DIDN'T FIT!!" And then I passed out....

Announcement by the A.R.
As of today, all future essayists will submit their essay to me via email, instead of posting it here. I will then send it in to be put up on the site. My email addy is below, in the pretty pink letters. If you have a problem with this I apologize, but this is the only way to keep things organized and rolling along.

A side note: Bingo, I'm sure you're familiar with the term "spanking the monkey", but let me assure you when I catch up with you that phrase will have a whole new meaning...

Rubber Duckie
Associate Rance
E-Mail: rubberdeeduckie@yahoo.com

Fill-In for Bingo the Monkey
Rance here. If I had a buck for every time I've heard the argument, I could buy a controlling interest in Halliburton (and thus, the election), but for some reason, psycho_lunatic's comment (printed below) the other day shot my piss and vinegar levels into the high double digits. I think I may just have been insufficiently caffeinated or something like that at the time. It doesn't bother me as much now--partly because several dozen commenters piled on in the interim with arguments better than any I could make, partly because some of the responses not posted were pure vitriol which, though not as well-stated, served me like a tall glass of whiskey, and partly because I realized that the original comment was written by a self-proclaimed psycho lunatic.

I've written previously in an effort to make the case that working in Hollywood does not preclude one from political insight and involvement, and don't want to do it over again (also, I'm again insufficiently caffeinated (note: must change brands)). Also, I'm largely retired (Associate Rance Rubber Duckie may weigh in she chooses). I'd like to add two words though: Ronald Reagan. And one more: Arnold. Now, psycho, you might say, "But they're in fact not very swell politicians." I might agree. But what about actress Helen G. Douglas? She went to the Hill straight off a sound stage and did a very swell job (before Nixon took her seat with one of the great (if you like that sort of thing) smear campaigns). So it can be done.

Here's the comment to 9 September 2004 post:
from psycho_lunatic@yahoo.com

"Legislation passed? Subvert the government? Goodness, does someone have politics on their mind?
Dearest Rance, perhaps you should spend your time blogging, acting, working out, partying, gambling, doing whatever it is a person such as you is good at rather than diddling in politics as you possibly might be! Please allow me to vent about this, as a 'fan' of yours, it's bothering me.
It's quite obvious from this blog, as entertaining as it is, that you have no clue about the day to day life of the average American and many of us take great offense at attempts by celebrities to influence voters(maybe I should say citizens as those who are inspired by celebrity endorsement are clearly not informed consistent voters). Those who are swayed have no idea whatsoever about the issues but think some 'coolness' will rub off on them if they cast a ballot similar to that of some Hollywood hottie who plays the hero and has sexy girlfriends.
Not that you are doing any such thing...I mean, I don't really know who you are. I just know I have a short list of celebrities who will never again partake in my hard earned dollars as a result of their nasty political bullshit and hope to goodness you are smart enough to steer clear of that arena.
Whew..I feel better. Hope to read lots from you soon!"

One more thing: (This is Rance typing again) As it happens, an Administrative Staffer of this blog has far greater expertise in the political arena than that average American George W. Bush did upon throwing his eight-gallon hat (bad math on his part at the hat shop) into the ring. I know, that's not saying much. The point is, this Administrative Staffer knows shit, and is planning to share some of it in the coming weeks.

Later,

R

News Item: Rubber DuckiePromoted to A.R.
Although unwilling to serve as the New Rance, Rubber Duckie has been offered and accepted the title of Associate Rance. RDD's duties consist of administering our "Pardon the Interruption." Participants, do what the A.R. tells you and when.

PARDON THE INTERRUPTION Part II by Sass
The small girl turned and gave Anna a pitiful look. She realized, staring into the child's big blue eyes that the girl was frightened and desperate to win the bidding. A man standing behind the girl brought his big hands up and clamped onto her shoulders. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear.

"$20.00!" Anna yelled, making a split-second decision. She made her way through the small crowd not showing any signs of regret.
She didn't know this town. As a new-comer she would rather have started out in this community on a happier note. But this way she could have her treasure and please the crowd as well. Forking over the 20, she took possession of the box and turned, instantly colliding with a man behind her.The box flew out of her hands and jewelry scattered.

"Whoa!" The man jumped backwards and looked down at the dry grass. He bent and began collecting the shiny pieces.
"Sorry, ma'am, but you need to slow yourself down, there." He took the box out of her hand and dropped a few pieces in it. Pushing his hat back, he held the box and stretched out his hand to her.

"Deputy Kaelin, Miss.......err, I 'm sorry I don't know your full name."

Anna was busy scanning the ground for the piece she wanted. Finding it just to the right of the deputy's boot she bent down for it.

"OH!" She came up pleased and slipped it into her pocket. She stepped back and looked up at this big palooka.

"You're not going to arrest me, are you?"

"No. Why would I do that?" The deputy scratched his head and handed her the box.

"For stealing that poor child's treasure." Anna held the box while he filled it.

"Well, that's mean, but you can't serve time for being an ass." He stood up with the last small gold chain and held it over the top of the box.

The redhead sneered and snapped the box closed, barely missing his fingers. She turned and marched back through the crowd until she located the little bidder. Taping the child on one thin shoulder she was shocked at the pale girl's sad little face when it turned upward.

"Here, sweetie." She said handing over the silver box. Instantly the tiny face lit up as she took it into her small hands.

"Why you doin' that?" The man stepped up beside the girl. He and the child both wore old patched overalls. The difference being the man's front bib was stained with tobacco juice. Anna looked into the ugly, mean face. It was a bogeyman's face. A Bob Ewell face. He grabbed the box from the girl's hands.

"You trying to sell it? You think we can pay more?" He growled at her.

"No, Mr. Bud. I think she was being nice. Just giving it to Lily." The deputy appeared out of the crowd before Anna could answer.

"Yes, that's all. I saw how much she wanted it and I wanted to....you know....." She piped in.

The scruffy man handed the box back to his daughter. Without a thank you, he turned, ordering Lily to follow.
"Thank you." The smile on the child's face was nice, making Anna glad she had done this good deed.

As they watched the pair trail off, the country lawman leaned toward her.

"So, what's with the pin? How much is it worth? You do know why they wanted it don't you?"

Anna frowned. "Deputy....uh....what?

"Kaelin."

She laughed. "Your first name isn't Kato is it?"


(to be continued.................)

Rubber Duckie's "Pardon the Interruption"
Administrative Note:

Greetings. Today we will commence Rubber Duckie's "Pardon The Interuption," a story begun by RD below, to be addedto--from a sentence or two, up to 1,000 words--by those listed (below Part I of the story). Rubber Duckie is hereby named Deputy Administrative Staffer in Charge of Getting People to Do This.

In other news, Rance will, sometime this week, respond to a comment to the last entry which shot his vinegar levels so high he had to have an Amstel Light (no real beer was available) to calm down.

[Drumroll]


PARDON THE INTERRUPTION

Part I by Rubber Duckie

A ferris wheel of thrill spun within each time she gazed upon her new found treasure. It was a steal! Drowning amongst a pile of costume jewelry it had surfaced amongst the searching hands of onlookers. At first glance she wasn't sure that it wasn't just another poor man's bauble, but upon closer scrutiny she knew what she had found.

It was a small Art Deco sterling silver pin with one large square cut ruby paste stone centered and surrounded by smaller round cut clear paste stones. The pin itself was a solid, retangular shape. From the markings on the back Anna was pretty sure it was a French piece with the date being somewhere around 1910 to 1920. It is easy for the untrained eye to mistake these pieces for mere costume jewelry, but for the sake of value the two should never be confused. She estimated this piece to be worth upwards of $300.00 dollars.

Of even more interest was the engraving on the back. It was rare for these pieces to have any engraving beyond that of the jeweler. She whispered aloud as she read the small cursive lettered words, "Omnia vincit amor". As Anna wasn't fluent in any language outside of her own she wasn't sure of the meaning of the words other than she knew they were French and that "amor" meant love. She discreetly placed it back in the box, burying it well beneath the faux pearl necklaces and cheap plastic trinkets hoping no one else would discover it before the auction began.

She clutched her bidder's number and patiently waited in the sweltering heat for the pin to be put up on the block. She didn't have to wait long. The auctioneer snatched the box up and attempted to sell it piece by piece. Fortunately, those from the small rural community weren't much interested in fake frippery. They were waiting for their turn at bidding on the brand new Kinmore fridge and the farm equipment out back. In fact, there was so little interest the auctioneer decided to sell the entire box as one item.

Anna thought the box was as good as hers since no one in the crowd had been interested in any of the individual items, but when bidding began for the whole shebang she soon learned she was in for a fight...with an 8 year old girl. Apparently, this dear child enjoyed playing dress-up on Saturday afternoons. The box contained the perfect set of accessories for doing so. The little girl bid at will and the auctioneer accommodated her, only allowing the bidding to increase in increments of quarters. "How many quarters can a piggy bank hold?" Anna thought to herself.

When the bidding reached the $10.00 mark Anna began to realize the crowd was starting to turn on her, glaring at her in distaste, most probably wondering how she could be waging battle against a sweet little girl for a box of costume jewelry. Things were fixing to get ugly.

(to be continued (see below for details))


Rubber Duckie's Administrative Note:

Here is the list of bloggers in numerical order for their turn at "Pardon the Interruption". My suggestion is that each blogger be required to contact either you through the comments or me through my email and let us know if they plan to participate when they are the third next in line to interrupt. Obviously, the first three need to let us know NOW. If some choose not to participate we will bump up the next blogger. If we receive no contact they'll automatically be replaced with the next in line.

They should post their piece here when it is their turn and make a note at the top addressed to you i.e. Pardon the Interruption #2, #3, and so on.

The order of the bloggers is random. I listed all bloggers I coudl think of who are currently reading/posting and then did eanie, meanie, minee, mo until I got to the last one, so no favoritism of mine would come in to play. However, IF YOU desire for a certain order of bloggers to be present, feel free to switch them around at will and I will keep mum on such doings.

I would tell each blogger that it is their option to post either a single sentence (preferably more) or no more than 1000 words. AND, to try to keep it clean...nothing TOO lewd. If I have overlooked anyone just chalk it up to my mental impairment and tell those not on the list to comment saying they wish to participate and they will be added accordingly.

The list is as follows:

1. Sass
2. Bingo the Monkey
3. WendyJo
4. Annie in Montannie
5. Private Dick
6. Nicole
7. JCanuck
8. Mia Toretto
9. Lora
10. Mikee
11. fishouttawater
12. Snubby
13. Rancette
14. BGC
15. Ken
16. Cheryl
17. flyrchld
18. Slippy
19. waxwing
20. Ginny
21. Lisa Marie
22. Grace
23. Curious Girl
24. Bard
25. mslauren
26. Lanie
27. leibniz
28. Wheeler Jones/Peeler Flones
29. Pepito
30. T-rex-in-tex
31. trish
32. Bubba
33. princessr9
34. feenxc
35. uthinkyouknowme




An additional actual Administrative Note:

If you, like Ken, would like a link to your blog posted on this site's Links section (on the lefthand margin), let us know. Only people who've had at least ten comments posted will be eligible (Sorry, pornographers).

--A.S.

An Open Letter From Rance to Rubber Duckie
Dearest Rubber:

I am sorry to hear about your receiving news compared with which eating urine rated favorably.

I'm writing now (or maybe, with incredible premonition, I penned this is 1993) in response to your note, as well as to thank you for providing a high percentage of the entertainment on this site over the past couple of months. Additional thanks to you and others for the sentiments implicit in asking that I write more (or at all).

Here's the deal: Get us a 27-hour day legislated, I'm here for at least two.

In the interim, some things to take into consideration:

Waxwing and several of the others mentioned have their own blogs. The community that developed here is, in my view, flourishing. This site is no longer as popular a stop on that circuit, but the bar is still open. I'd like to keep it that way so we can have your rendition of Pardon the Interruption. Also, the Administrative Staff is cooking up a couple of ways to subvert the government I think will be swell. And some of the guest bloggists have been great. Maybe there will be more. Maybe I'll chime in.

Lastly, I am currently doing plenty of writing. Just not on this site. Maybe even a whole book's worth. Stay tuned.

Best,

R

A Comment From Rubber Duckie Rance will answer
Entered: Wednesday, 8 September 2004 - 05:49 HDT
Name: Rubber Duckie
Comment: To: Rance and the ever present Administrative Staff

From: Rubber Duckie

Well, I woke up this morning and received an email that made a bowl of Cheerios drenched in fresh urine sound cheering in comparison. But alas, not even Cheerios doused with a fresh cup of milk straight from the cow's teet could cheer me up today since reading same.

Do you want to know why?

I'll share with you anyway.

To quote you, Rance, in your own words from your most recent and last post...:"People often suggest: Why not just have no comments at all? I like that solution least of all, because I like the community that's blossomed here. I had no idea that'd be the case at the onset, but now it is."

If you like the community so much then why are you killing it? Suffocating it? Blindly weeding out the flowers as opposed to the weeds?

I feel like I am attempting to give CPR to a dying gold fish, which ain't easy my friend. Not that I can call you "my friend" as I came here well after you stopped posting. I blogged here not because of you, the supposed CELEBRITY, but because of you, the witty writer, and your cast of faithful friends.

But where is your "community", these witty, faithful friends? Where is Robyn? Ginny? Nicole? Shorty? Mrs. Norman Maine? Jay? Cheryl? WendyJo? waxwing? and anyone I may have carelessly overlooked? I, as I'm sure others do as well, wish to chat with these people amongst your wittily veiled posts.

I'm sure your thinkin right about now what right do I have to ask anything from you and you're right, you don't owe me a blessed thing. But you can't make that claim with the others. You do owe them. You owe them for hanging out with you thru your burning pissing, ranting, raving stage to where you are now. And it isn't as if we're asking you for money or something material, or even something that you are not capable of giving.

I'm asking you for something really simple. A gift that costs you nothing, yet gives enjoyment to so many...you're words. I live in a town with one gas station, one stoplight in the whole friggin county, a Dollar General Store, a Country Mart, and a library with five shelves. That's it! No movie show, no skate-o-rama, no bowling alley, not even a WAL-MART!!!!!!!!! It is too much to ask for an ESCAPE?? If only via your stories and my imagination? And they don't even have to be stories...tell the truth. I find that fascinating as well.

What, are you worried someone is going to figure out who you are? So what? Who cares? If I were you I'd beat 'em to the punch. If you're a REAL CELEBRITY, claiming this blog as your own will do nothing but garner you a BLOG FULL of faithful, adoring fans. What's so bad about that? Are you worried some will be disappointed? Who the heck cares? If you're not a CELEBRITY, then BRILLIANT...I'd be an even BIGGER fan.

All I can say is whoever you are you have a clever, veiled wit that has me laughing five minutes after I've read it. Why you can no longer share your comments and thoughts with us is incomprehensible to me...as I said, it costs you nothing.

Alrighty then, enough of my rant. I'm sure you're sick of the lectures and the fighting and the pettiness that comes with a community...but that's LIFE. In between all the chaos you may learn something, grow, gain a friend or two...who knows??????????

I'm down and out.

Off to eat my Cheerios drowned in a bowl of beer...

Dick, Part III
My friend the detective called me at about 8 AM the following morning.
One of the reasons I quit the force all those years ago is because
the hours just killed me.

"Found the girl's body. Pretty ugly, looks like someone dumped her
off the pier, but she got tangled up in some rope or tackle or
something. She was caught on the dock when we found her. Neighbors
came down and identified her. Stop by the jazz club last night?"

"Yeah."

"See the ex-boyfriend?"

"No comment."

"Come on now, Dick, lying to a cop is a crime. Think he did it?"

"Not sure."

"Well, we're out looking for him now."

"What do you know about the girl?" I asked.

"Not much. She's here legally on a work visa. We know where she came
from, some stuff about her life in New York, but that's it as of now."

"Anyone else in her life? Family, friends?"

"Not sure. We're checking up on that now."

We talked a bit longer, then hung up.

Billy had told a good story the other night, but rotting corpses speak
louder than words. Still, I wanted to believe him. The only missing
piece to it all was the sister. I was still kicking myself for not
asking Billy for her address, though I assume her apartment was his
first stop after running out of the club.

After getting myself out of bed and through a cup of coffee, I noticed
the envelope of picture shreddings I had taken from Angelina's
apartment, and a thought occurred to me. It was a long shot, but if
there was any validity to Billy's story, it would probably mean two
things: 1) that Angelina had been tearing up any photos that had to do
with her relationship, and 2) that would include not only pictures of
Billy, but also of her sister. Maybe a picture of the sister would
jog someone's memory--the band, Angelina's neighbors, whoever. Get
people talking.

I took out the envelope and dumped the photo scraps on my desk. Like
I said, most of the pictures looked as if they had been taken in
Central Park near Belvedere Castle, and looking over the pieces, there
seemed to only be pictures of Billy and Angelina. In fact, something
looked out of sorts --" there were more Angelina heads than there were
Billy heads --"

I started to put together one of the pictures. A few minutes later, I
had assembled enough to know the answer to everything.

The picture showed Billy leaning against a wall of the castle, showing
off his teeth. In his left arm was Angelina. In his right arm was
also Angelina.

Angelina's sister Tina was her twin. Billy had ditched Angelina for
her twin sister.

I had to catch Angelina before she disappeared forever, and there was
a chance I knew where she might go.

---

The police had long since finished their investigation of Angelina's
apartment. A few lines of police tape were still draped over the door
knob, and I left them in place as I picked the lock. Once inside, I
fed the cat, then took a seat in her bedroom and waited.

Two hours later, the door slowly opened. A woman dressed in black,
with glasses and a large hat entered the room. She shut the door
behind her, then glanced around the kitchen and living room. Seeing
no one, she burst into action and began searching both rooms for
something. Amused at her stupidity, I watched her for a few minutes,
then came out of the bedroom.

"You know," I said loudly, startling her. "I hate being used."

Angelina started for her purse but I pulled out my .45 before she
could get the zipper undone.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she shrieked. "You work for me!"

"There's one clause that renders my contract void, and that's when I
find out I'm being used." She shrank back against the couch. The cat
came over to me, and I hefted him onto my lap.

"So let me just make sure I understand everything clearly," I said.
"Billy dumps you for your twin sister. You are furious. You try to
get him back, but they both ignore you. You plot your revenge. You
kill your sister, make it look like it's you that's been murdered,
then implicate Billy as the killer. Your plan is to run back to Italy
while the cops are trying to figure out what happened. Once out of
the country, it'll be a while before they figure out a twin exists
somewhere. In the meantime, Billy is the perfect guy to take the rap.
I won't go into the added benefit you'd have with a jury when they
have to judge a black guy for killing a sweet, beautiful white girl.
Then, you hire me to put all the pieces together and tell the cops
that my client was killed by her ex-boyfriend. Did I miss anything?"

She stared at me, shaking with rage but keeping absolutely silent.

"Didn't think so. Two mistakes. First, if you leave your plane
ticket at the crime scene, just buy a new one. Don't come back for
it." I held up the plane ticket for her to see, and the look of shock
that crossed her face was priceless. "Two, don't hire a private dick
who's as smart as he is handsome." No reply to that one. None
needed.

With my gun still trained on her, I called the cops.

---

No happy ending to the story. Turns out, Billy was going to marry
Tina before Angelina killed her and tied her body to the pier (yes,
that was intentional). As of now, there's no way to reverse what
doctor's refer to as rotting corpse syndrome, so Billy is going to
have to cry, write some great jazz numbers about what happened, then
ultimately get over it. Angelina got punished pretty damn severely.
There was always enough evidence to link her to the case. However, if
she had got back to Italy, there's a very good chance no one would
have ever seen her again, and Billy might be in jail now.

As for me, the greatest tragedy of all: I didn't get paid, as my
client turned out to be a murderer. It happens, though a lot less
since this case. I'm much less willing to take on a case for any
reason these days other than the payoff (pretty face or not). I
realize that a lot of people think I have no morals or ethics, and am
only in this for the money. These two statements are both true and
false. I have morals and ethics, but when it comes to my work, they
have no place save for helping me look out for my own welfare. As for
the financial side, the money is good, but there are other reasons.
I'll explain them sometime, but it requires telling at least one case,
maybe more.

However, that's not to say it was a total net loss. In lieu of
payment, I decided to take her kitten, who is named Sammy (that is the
one true name I will ever give in any of my stories; at least, until
Sammy verbally complains). My secretary acted annoyed, as it meant a
new host of chores that went beyond her job description, but I think
she's just as happy to have someone new around the office. Sammy has
been with us ever since.