The man who the secretary Waaasz in dah hole?" 

The man who the secretary was sent to not interview talked funny.

  The secretary had to put an explanation as to why on the form.  The golden braids on navy blue sleeves pushed mandible back into place.  "I gueff ooooo thay," he took the leatherbound datebook from her and a boy in front of him turned his back so it could be a desk.  He wrote: bridge missing.

  Steady handed to her slight tremor.  

  He handed back the leatherbound but put the gold pen in his executive's breast pocket.  Then he took it out again, held it like a pendulum in front of the boy's eyes.  Awwfayszt heck eyeszt

  "I'll need that to record the story." 

  "Ooooft," he stopped giving the pen back and put it back in front of the frozen still Peter Pan.  Took a big popsickle stick out of an outer handkerchief pocket and tried to say, open your mouth, but his head tremored and his knees buckled and he collapsed.  The secretary dropped both leatherbound books and fell on hands and knees looking down at a man with a melting face.

  "That's not acting." The skinny-legged husband told the cold personality General sitting in the director's chair.

  "It's not LATE," she kind of curtsied or more like moved her ass out of "the customary greeting" as she handed a sachel of film reel to a boiling hot personality.  She peeked at the editing room behind that bitch saw a half drank OJ and asked, "May I finish that?" 

  "You're not welcome to stay." 

  The secretary reached for the OJ.  Forearm smacked. 

  A gaggle of gagged people were being led away.  Stern, straight-backed, crispy clothed people were being led in.  The last one in the line entering the cubicle round handcuffed the smacker.  Shoved the woman's face up against a bullet proof garage parking booth window.  The secretary waited until both cuffs were on then took the OJ, went in front of the smushed face and dropped the kids lunch orange juice into the open backpack.  Bombs away, she mouthed.

  Up flights and flights of stairs the golden emblem on the sneakers never stopping.

  A rap on a door.  The sneakers tiptoed away.

  The door started to open.  The silver belt tip on a black alligator boot stuck out.  Straightened itself perpendicular to the hallway then swiveled in a horseshoe shape.  The door was pushed open further by a hairy arm with one medical bracelet on it.  Sherry sat back from kneeling with the boot on a stick that had a screwed on swiveler.