It’s been a long time since I gave an update on Tina, the fiesty scabby-skinned know-it-all broad who used to work with me on the evening shift but has been busy plaguing the day crew with her inherent bossiness and nails-on-chalkboard voice for the past eight months.
We had one of our monthly meetings today, which is usually the only time I get a good, strong dose of Tina’s aggressive brand of self-righteousness these days. In between thinking about how far behind I am on "Days of Our LIves" and desperately blocking out Tina’s whiny questions and rebuttals, my eyes couldn’t help but glue themselves mercilessly to the strange open wound on her right temple. It was relatively fresh in appearance, the color of raw meat with the sheen of a glazed donut.
At first I thought it was that flesh-eating disease, but now I think it’s probably just where her husband hit her with a candle stick.