Pecksley, Sucklow & Miss Dank: CIA
|"Sicut Corvus Volat"|
Two hours later, Miss Dank arrived with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. She had managed to preserve an impressive length of ash. She had a stack of forms and a handful of black ink pens marked “U.S. Government.”
She would slide a form across the table, point, and say either “initial,” or “signature.” Even as she retrieved a signed form with her left hand, she was sliding another across the table with her right. When an ink pen failed, she would snatch it from his hand and hurl it against the wall while offering a new one with the other hand.
Her moves were like a clockwork fortuneteller in an arcade smoking a magical cigarette with ash that never dropped.
“What are all these forms I’m signing, Miss Dank?”
“Initial,” she replied.
As he looked down at her finger, sweat trickled into his eye. He reached for his pocket patch.
“No, Dr. Sucklow. Pocket handkerchief.”
Allow me to take a moment to salute all the knowledgeable and hardworking secretaries. Even Hell can't operate without them.