Pynchon

I have a cold. It's a kind of sore throat and feel-a-bit-hot kind of cold, but it is a cold nevertheless. Lorraine keeps giving me the evil eye and saying things like, "Don't come near me" or "Don't breathe on me. You're not going to ruin my birthday" and so on and so forth. Lorraine never catches my germs and I never catch her. Really. Perhaps we are physically incompatible. It's crossed by mind a couple of times, but I am sure that you have gathered that.

In any event, I am a brave soldier. I have a plan and a mission and I intend to complete it. I have battled into work and coughed on everybody that I do not like.

Lorraine and I have got Friday and Monday off work, so who gives a toss?

Today we had a team meeting in which James Cunt told everybody about Lorraine's promotion. There was no reaction whatsoever within the meeting, but afterwards a couple of people came over to her and wished her well. Other people disappeared into dark corners to plot and scheme.

James Cunt also told us that there is no truth in the rumour that we are either

a) Being bought by the Opposition.
b) Are about to buy the Opposition.

Oh, yes? Really. Somebody had to ask him. Did I expect a truthful answer? No, of course not.