When the Founder walked into the Dirtlease cafeteria on Monday May 4, his wrinkles had deepened and a broad sweat stain covered his back. His face had four days’ stubble and his eyes did not focus. ‘Dude’, Legal said. ‘You look like death warmed over.’ ‘Nu?’ ‘The humanity. O, the humanity.’ . Bot loaded his …
At the Dirtlease corporate retreat, Legal, Economics and the Founder wandered away from the group looking for a place to piss. ‘Dude’, the Founder told Legal. ‘Do not hook up with HR.’ Economics bent a sapling branch and snapped it back at Legal. ‘Ow.’ ‘It would be wrong on so many levels.’ ‘You take care …
In the Dirtlease cafeteria, Legal and Economics saw Bot sitting alone. At the table to his left, a bunch of women from HR sat talking about eating and whatever else – Legal thought – women talk about when they are alone. To his right, two men and a woman from Security sat eating crayons. ‘You …
In the Medias Res, the Bartender placed six half-filled pints of Guinness on a tray. Lined up in front of the pint glasses, like pawns in front of higher-order chess pieces, were six shot glasses filled with milky liquid. The Bartender twitched her tail feathers the way she did when she wanted tips. ‘Hey’, the …
‘The Comptroller calls me ‘Tempura’’, the Founder said. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands underneath the keyboard shelf. A large bruise extended from the bridge of his nose to the crow’s feet on his right eye. ‘Why is that’, AP asked. ‘She likes me lightly battered.’ AP threw a side-glance at Operations. …
When the bartender asked the Founder if he wanted another mezcal, he asked her, ‘What’s the chance that that jackdaw you are seeing flies into a window?’ ‘He’s waiting for me at home’, she said. ‘You know how you say ‘jackdaw’ in Czech?’ ‘What’s bothering you?’ She ruffled her tail feathers as she asked. That’s …
Usually, when the Founder sat in the Media Res drinking, he thumbed his phone, but this night was different from all other nights. The phone sat on the bar and the Founder stared at a space behind the mirror that covered the wall behind the bottles of gin, single-malt Scotch and high-end bourbon. It is …
Recently published in The Brussels Review. No Belgian jokes, please.
The Ding an Sich At a table in the back of the Media Res, the Founder sat with a rainbow and a unicorn. ‘Where the hell were you guys in Hamilton’, he asked. ‘I could have used you.’ ‘Dude’, the rainbow said. ‘’There’s two of us. There are how many of you?’ If he had …
Dirt Lease is going global.