Walk in someone elses jackboots – Saved in Drafts 4.29.10

**An unfinished Fenris post from 4.29.10. The Mayor would be interested in reading the ending to this piece.

If you ever get a chance to talk to an astrologer, they are always full of smarmy advice and maple syrup for the soul. One of my peers here at Mitchieville, Sargon, is an astrologer. He has a spotty attendance record, and today he is not here at his work cubicle. The message he left on the answering machine muttered something about evil omens and bad influences. But, I, Fenris Badwulf, am a progressive and, in order to better understand my fellow man (Sargon, eh) I am assuming his identity and will walk in his shoes just to better understand him. I care.

My first mission in my jihad of care and concern is to thoroughly investigate Sargon’s desk. He has far too many pencils. Who would want a bunch of those things? He has some with that devilish soft lead (B? BB?) and a few colored ones too. What sort of person keeps colored pencils in their desk? Red, orange, green, blue (Navy, ultramarine, and baby). Hmmm. And he has managed to purloin one of those nifty small staplers that even I do not have. The bandit!

Other desk contents that raised my activist suspicions were a pair of sneakers in the bottom left hand drawer (where files should be placed).  And there was a bag of candy in the middle left hand drawer – chocolate covered almonds.  What sort of white right wing extremist keeps candy in his desk?  I wondered if he had a gun, a pistol, or some sort of weapon, as all white people keep guns (because all white people are right wing extremists, unless they are moderates who follow Marxism-Leninism-Trudeauism).  Sargon is right handed, so I checked his top right hand drawer (that is where I keep me .222 pistol, silencer, ammo, and black deer skin gloves).  No gun.  He did have a letter opener.  Not quite something the fascists would issue to front line desk jockeys; no runes worked into the blade, no rubber no-slip grip for wet work, no grooves for easy insertion and removal, no edge, not even a specialty Belgian steel.  Hmmm.  Based on the lack of evidence, Sargon was hiding something.

My journalistic investigation was cut short by the first of Sargon’s clients’ arriving: a Mrs. Smith.

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