LUDIC LOG

"Hey, honey!"

"Hi babe. Welcome home."

"Did you pick up any dinner?"

"Yeah, I stopped at Manzo's. How was your day?"

"Aaaah, you know."

"Aw! What's the matter, sweetie?"

"Helmond's riding my ass again about that Wells-Fargo account, you know."

"That fucker."

"He is! He's a fucker."

"He's a motherfucker is what he is."

"He's a cocksucking motherfucker."

"He's a dirty mule-felching cocksucking motherfucker."

"He is! I'd even say he's a whoremongering shit-huffing motherfucking piss-bather."

"You know, I've never met the guy, but from the way you've described him, I'd say he's a cum-soaked bastard son of a thousand assholes."

"Well, believe me. If you ever did meet him, I'm sure you'd agree that he's the vomit-stained pus-caked fecal leavings of a hell-spawned infant-raping demon."

"Actually, when we had that party last weekend, I was talking to that girl Angela, the one you work out with, and she said he was a putrescent fuck-sack scraped from under the balls of a stinking, purulating, degraded, clapwracked man-whore."

"Well, you know, Angela's great, but she doesn't have to work with Helmond every day. If she did, she'd realize that he's the ungodly gob-coated urine-stained dried crap left behind by a cunt-stinking dwarf monkey fart-whiff of a he-bitch."

"I'm gonna be honest with you: he really strikes me as the kind of guy who would ram his fist up his dead grandmother's asshole and use her stiffening, maggot-bait cadaver as a nightmarish zombie dildo with which to rectally violate the Pope, the Dalai Lama and a thousand retarded virgins."

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't know the half of it. When he was going over the deadlines for the August preliminaries with me in the elevator, it occured to me that he was a billion times worse than Hitler, Stalin, Genghis Khan, Dracula and Richard Speck rolled together, smeared with the inhuman blood of everyone who ever choked the life out of a kitten, a bunny or an innocent baby, topped off with the snot of a phlegmatic pederast panderer, and then eaten and shit out by Satan onto Atilla the Hun's head."

"I remember you telling me once that he smelled like a combination of inner thigh sweat, blackhead squeezings, hair matted with blood, earwax which had been sitting out in the sun for several weeks, a fresh sneeze, throat cancer, ground-up rat carcass, menstrual napkins which have fallen into a gas station toilet, half-digested cereal brought up from the just-electrocuted guts of a serial killer, the halitosis of the elderly, the last two feet of small intestine after anal sodomy at the hands of a bull dying of brucellosis, the feet of a pilgrim who has never bathed, and rancid spinach. Would you say that's still the case?"

"Absolutely. I guess, when it comes right down to it, the guy is just a motherfucking shit-eating tit-wringing pussy fuck cunty twat-snapping pisshole shitbag dicklicking fucked-up shithead cunt-lapping bullpiss fucker shit cock-stuffing turdface razorcunt piss-gargling fucking shitty needledick fuckity pisspants shit-ass fart-sniffing cunt cooze jockey asshole motherfucker."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm."

"So, how was your day, hon?"

"It was okay."