Do Not Juggle Small Babies 2

Continued from last week.


There were, in fact, pigs in the makeshift corral around which were gathered most of the office personnel. Which explained the smell and sounds she could detect from the elevators. She had missed the chocolate undertones, though. The smells of chocolate, that is. So far as she knew, chocolate made no sound. She was wrong about that, but she'd never know otherwise.


"I'm here... uhh... to. Uhh. SOX." One pig squeals, which sets the others squealing, a veritable symphony of pig squeals. Not the sort of thing you'd be wandering the aisles of Tower Records, looking for the box set. "Compliance." One of the guys leaning over the corral wall got hit with a good dollop of chocolate pudding and hit the ground, writhing. One of his coworkers shot to his side to help him up.


"What? SOX?" A lady gestured with a chicken wing she'd been inspecting for remaining bits of chicken. She kind of indicated the entire floor with the destroyed wing.


"Sarbanes-Oxley.... Umm. Are those pigs?" She knew the answer to that one, or so she thought, but figured she'd get that question out there while she tried to figure out how she was going to audit the company's financial reporting with a giant corral set up in the middle of the floor with pigs sprinting back and forth and squealing.


A couple of them muttered, "We have no pigs." Some of the crew drooped over the corral, tapping pigs that got too close to the edge with pencils, looked back at her and nodded in assent.


This is where her experience with the dog came in handy, and why the firm hired her. "Right. 'Course." She set down her briefcase on someone's desk, grabbed the nearest guy wearing a tie by the self-same and asked for the landlord's number... that got things settled in a hurry. She was out of there by 5pm with the report, and she even got a little souvenir cup of chocolate pudding (not from the corral, though).


EOF



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