Nailed

After my interrogation with Gabriel, I went to the Burnt Toast Diner. When I got back, The Haitian told me that Gabriel had been complaining recently about needing to have his nails done. I went over to see him in his cell. The nagging was constant. So, finally, just to shut him up, I took him to a nail salon.

"No funny business," I told him.

"Is brain-eating humorous?" he replied.

"Do you want to be sitting back in your cell with chipped nails?"

"Fine!" He said and slumped down in the backseat of my Nissan Armada.

As soon as we left the Primatech Paper Company parking lot, Gabriel started with, "Are we there yet?" and "Can I have a puppy?"

He's worse than my son, whatever his name is. Lyle?

Finally, we arrived. I sat and read People Magazine while waiting. Half way through learning about how Martin Lawrence only sleeps 20 minutes a day, my cell phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"Bennet, I have an important assignment for you."

It was the big man. He had seemed in a rush. This assignment will be good, I thought.

"Anything, sir."

"I was supposed to meet with the Karger Elementry School honor students for dinner. They have been learning about corporate America and I promised to give them a glimpse of how things work in business. But I didn't realize my in-laws are coming over for dinner, so I need you to take my place."

"Sure, no problem."

"Alright, be at Thanasi's in 12 minutes."

"Twelve minutes? Uh, I..."

"That's the spirit, Bennet!" and he hung up.

"All done. Aren't they just wonderfully magnificent?" Gabriel flaunted his fingernails at me.

"Listen, Gabriel. We need to make another stop."

"Ooh! Please tell me we're going shopping for halter tops."

"No. We have to do a publicity stunt for my boss. Eat with some local school kids."

"Eat local school kids?"

"With local school kids," I corrected.

Luckily, I had an extra suit and it fit Gabriel perfectly. I couldn't show up with a drag queen. We were representing corporate America, not GLAAD.

Surprisingly, the dinner was going well. Gabriel was behaving. I had to promise him a Versace handbag, but it'd be worth it. This was important to the image of Primatech. I had to keep it under control.

And it was under control. The press were taking flattering photos. The kids were asking ideal questions. And I was answering them perfectly.

Then, a scream.

I rose and looked over at Gabriel. "Gabriel! What do you think you're doing?"

"He started it!"

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Awarded by Sarah