“I can’t believe it! They wrote the software, and they don’t understand it!”she yelled. Chris glanced over at The Editor, envying that she, at least, could visibly wince. He would have to content himself with that bit of empathy.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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This was not the best day Allan had ever had. He’d been up half the night resolving a reconciliation issue in Australia, and he was tired. Definitely not in the mood for Ms. Quackenbouche. It wasn’t her real name, but it certainly described her. And here she was, standing at his desk, quacking away, her tiny body nearly airborne with agitation.
“I can’t believe it! They wrote the software, and they don’t understand it!”she yelled. Chris glanced over at The Editor, envying that she, at least, could visibly wince. He would have to content himself with that bit of empathy.
Eric J. Smith
13/8/2016 05:29:28 pm
Amy, I was right there for decades--from the mid-seventies on. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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