Orange Cock, by wiredwriter

Orange Cock


Martin left one building and entered another then told the girl at the
receptionist desk he was there to see Mr. Evans. The girl asked for
Martin’s name and Martin said his name was Martin Richter. The girl
looked in a book and then looked up at Martin and smiled.

“He’ll be right with you,” she said, “so you can have a seat.” Martin
knew she would say that because that is what girls who sit at
receptionist desks say when someone arrives to visit their bosses.

Martin took a seat and thumbed a magazine that was five years old. The
articles in the magazine had nothing to do with Martin or anything in
his life, so he decided to close the magazine and wait for Mr. Evans.
But just before closing the cover he noticed a photo of an orange
pylon. The pylon was part of an ad about buying stock and the tip of
the cone was inside a woman’s mouth. The woman was shouting something
through the pylon but the ad didn’t say what she was shouting.

“Martin Richter?”

Martin threw down the magazine and stood to his feet. He shook hands
with Mr. Evans then entered his office, giving the girl at the desk a
receptive smile as he passed. The girl smiled back.

“Why do you want to work for our company?” Mr. Evans asked. Martin
hesitated then said he loved working for companies with pretty girls
at receptionist desks and would it be okay if he asked his
receptionist out sometime. Mr. Evans asked Martin to leave his office,
so Martin stood and left, grabbing the five-year-old magazine on the
way out.

When the evening came Martin dreamed of pylons with arms and heads the
shape of desks.