Thing 1 hurt her arm earlier, and has been moping around the office with her dominant arm in a sling. I am watching her holding something from falling with her good arm, and flailing away at something else under the stack with her slinged arm, and -- being the ever-helpful boss -- I opine, "It's okay, dear. All the dinosaurs feared the T-Rex."
This earns me a suggestion that I'm not perzackly sure is anatomically possible -- kids these days -- and then she yelps, "Oh, hell! I've got to pay off the Outside Inmate Work Crew!"
I pause in the sipping of my tea to raise an eyebrow at her.
"Remember? Dumpster diving for midget porn?"
I smile happily at OldNFO, who blinks at her, then, in a slow Cajun drawl, he announces, "Girl, you ain't right."
I am tallying up the fact that -- finally -- an Innocent Third Party has witnessed the sort of shenanigans that fly past me on a regular basis, when Reno's voice rumbles out from behind a bank of monitors, "What are you paying them off with?"
Thing 1 chirps, "Wendy's frostys."
She sniffs, "Of course."
Again the rumble, "And french fries?"
Thing 1 continues, "Although I really don't understand dipping your french fries into chocolate ice-cream. That's just ... weird."
"Well," says Reno, meditatively, "You just might be a Communist."
OldNFO blows coffee across the stack of files he's carrying.
Today ... is a Good Day.