Communication

I needed a piece of glass cut into a trapezoid for a lantern that hangs like a one-eyed head from the wall of the office.

When I brought them the measurements the first time they cut it wrong, and gave me a piece of plastic instead of glass. The plastic melted from the heat of the flame.

So I returned with the melted plastic, twisted on itself like putty or taffy, and said I needed a new piece, preferably glass this time. The lady there, whose head was inflated like a parade balloon, looking like she'd just stuffed her face with cakes made of hydrogen gas and ass fat, told me she'd need measurements. So, I left and returned once more, this time with approximate measurements for the glass.

"We can't use an approximate measurement," she said smugly.

"Well," said I, annoyed, "the last time I came in I brought exact measurements and it came back wrong. Just get as close to this as you can."

She attempted to give me an impromptu geometry lesson and spoke to me like a teacher who caught a student running in the hall with a flaming pair of scissors.

So I cut open her skull, surgically, precisely, with the edge of the plastic-glass, deflating her head shaped like Snoopy or Garfield. I folded up my measurements into an airplane, shrunk myself to microscopic size and piloted the measurements straight into her frontal lobe.