ref: b9fbb17c04e4ccfb2021dac818e514351ca8f646
dir: /troff/0602.ms/
.LP \& .ce .sp |4.25i .PP .ps 12 .CW ░ Tom regarded his newly silvered hair in the mirror. He looked tired. True, there were problems down at the office. The latest batch of cocaine had all turned black. There was an opportunity for a joke, here, but wisely, Tom demurred. He was doing that a lot lately\(emdemurring. Was it an artifact of his increasing weariness? .PP .ps 12 It was not like him to stand around and reflect. But, well, here he was, in front of the mirror. And he was just so damned pretty. .PP .ps 12 Tom touched his fingers to his lips and then he touched them to the mirror. Planting a little kiss, just like the old days. "Too fine," he said, sadly. And he was. .PP .ps 12 Sad, that is. .PP .ps 12 The pink triangle badge on his polo shirt illuminated dimly. It was time for his conference call. He finished up at the sink and made his way over to the neutral backdrop strung up behind his prop desk. Straightened his visor and joined the call. .PP .ps 12 There they were. The whole team was there. Yep, perfect attendance. In reality it was more of the same. He hated to micromanage, but he couldn't help noticing the violations. His employees were just so stupid. Stupid enough to work for him, anyway, which in his book entitled them to his unending abuse. More of which would always be forthcoming. .PP .ps 12 Nearly thirty years had passed since he'd taken over the A.C.T.R.O.N. team, sans Piro. In all that time there hand't been any firings or new hires. Everyone here was a veteran player\(ema classic character, long established with the fanbase\(emso they'd all been around the block together more than a few times. They all knew what to say, how to stand. They all knew the score. .PP .ps 12 Knowing this, he found it impossible to respect any of them.