"Chrissy! Open the door!"
Just as I'm watering my beautiful kumquat and trying to distract myself, the phone beeps, and I growl as I realize that I'm not the only whose day was ruined because of Mr. fungus's annoyingness.
Is this your hot boss shou...
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One...
"Ms. Saaid, we finally meet...alone. I heard you have become quite a valuable asset to Tropical and co."
Three...
"Mr. Green has been praising your skills for a while now. Such a shame you did not take his assistant offer. I have a question, though..."
Five...
"Why Ashton? You are quite a smart girl, you do realize that his days in here are limited, don't you? Why not go with the true heir? He, and only he, can take you places."
Eight...
"What do you say? Consider it redemption before it is too late. You come to our side and we give you whatever you desire. Anything, at all."
When the final beep announces my arrival to the destination floor, I rejoice as the shutters part and evacuate some of the toxic aura I'd been inhaling. Walking out, I remember that I have forgotten an obnoxious Belladonna unanswered in the elevator.
"Oh Mr. Belladonna. You were talking to me? Didn't notice you... at all."
With that, I begin my sprint towards the meeting room. This is not my first time jogging my way from the elevators, across Regina's desk, and into the big room. A strange feeling tells me that it won't be the last time either.
"I never thought you'd blow so low!" I scream at an oblivious parasite while holding my hand out to stop the door from closing in my face after I've flown it open.
"What on earth is happening here?" asks Samuel as he makes sure to maintain composure in front oh his guest.
The T-Rex, a seemingly new shot of Botox having somehow made it under her forehead skin, explains with a firm tone though displaying the facial expression of a happily spasmed bimbo. "I'm sorry, one of our employees has gone crazy. She does this sometimes."
"Shut it, Carlos!" I ignore her when I spot the arrangement of cacti conveniently laid in the middle of the table. Only my attempts to snatch the pot are aborted when I feel myself being dragged away. Despite my many attempts to fight back, the power in which I am forced out reduces my movements to mere arm shakes.
Then, and as I finally manage to have my hand almost slip out of the man's grip, I am surprised by a pair of hands dragging me by the waist towards the kitchenette.
"Chrissy, calm down. What happened?" says the fungus as he lifts me to sit on the counter, "And where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for hours."
