conversation is an engine

He thought he had carved it on the handicapped stall. But as he sat there he couldn’t see it. Maybe he carved it in another stall. Screw the regulators. Screw purchasing. Screw the fat cat CEO. He would be the fat cat. When his ex stopped screwing his wallet and settled for screwing his best friend. He was drunk and he knew it. He shuffled out the door, pants around his ankles and made himself comfortable in the much smaller stall. Yes. This would have been the one. He searched the wall to his left. De novo. He scanned to his right. In vitro. He caught his breath. In vivo. He took out his car key and scratched. In vino. He stood. Pulled up his pants and fastened them. He took a slug from the bottle in his paper bag and put it back in the deep pocket of his lab coat. Wash hands. Pop a mint. Pop two more mints. Ready for the next procedure.

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