Jones doesn't get it. He pushes another copy of form K256-L55 across the desk. "You sign here. I countersign here. Personnel initials here. You may then secure Haimovitz's approval here, here, here...(a flurry of pages) and here. Ow! Damn!" Jones grasps his finger. Two crimson drops fall where the CSFCOO is supposed to sign. I look down at the three inches of putrid water that has collected in the office. Water bugs hop back and forth between my legs. A water moccasin slithers across the desk.

"Lunch! I just want to go to lunch!"

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