Bailey, Frost & Myrrh present
Like sand in the Vaseline, so is a day in the life for the folks at Bailey, Frost, and Myrrh. In today’s episode… what the #%@! does that say?!
“Sign here please, ma’am.”
A delivery man is standing at the front desk of Bailey, Frost, and Myrrh with a box full of possibility and a smile. He’s smitten with Brenda, the receptionist who is thinking impure thoughts about the fellow in the brown uniform in front of her.
Today’s Cast Includes:
- DALE FRENCH
- MOLLY HOBBY
Lead Computer Specialist
“Where would you like me to sign, sugar?”
The delivery man gulps, quickly assessing that if she were to ever get a hold of him, she might just break him in half.
“Um… he… here,” he stammers, handing Brenda his portable signature terminal.
She takes it from him and writes her signature with the stylus. She licks her lips as she hands it back. The delivery man looks at the signature only to realize… she didn’t write her name. It was more like a very specific suggestion… with an expletive. The delivery man hands the box to Brenda without blinking, and quietly backs his way out through the front door.
“Okay, who the hell ordered something from Jerry’s Sports Apparel?”
“I didn’t either.”
“Nothing came through me.”
“Well someone ordered it!”
“But it wasn’t anyone from here.”
“How do you know that?”
“Yeah, how do you know that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Yeah. What do…”
“Shut up, Larry!”
“HighOrbit would have tracked all of this. If someone from here placed the order, it would have sent an alert to Larry letting him know that there was a purchase order, which would then go to Dale for final approval.”
“What about me?”
“You’ve been locked out since week one. Anyway, the whole thing would have been started by Molly, and neither she, nor anything to do with Jerry’s Sports Apparel, is anywhere in the HighOrbit system at the moment.”
“Where is Molly, anyway?”
Just then, Molly walks into the room. She’s on her cellphone.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea sir.”
[The look on Molly’s face shows that she does, in fact, not think this is a wonderful idea.]
“And what a cute name. The BFMers. Ha ha. That’s a good one, sir.”
“I’ll tell them. Okay. Bye, now.”
“Sweet mother of God.”
“That was Bryson Myrrh the third.”
[She has just spit Diet Coke all over her computer monitor, completely saucing half of the screen. Solitaire will be over for a while until she gets this cleaned up.]
“Bryson Myrrh the turd? What the hell does that son of a…”
“Brenda,he’s trying to make amends for the milk fiasco a few weeks ago. These are shirts for the local third-grade baseball team that Bailey, Frost, and Myrrh is sponsoring. He’s calling them the BFMers.”
They look at her in silence..
You know… like the other words made from those letters, but not?”
“Because it’s for kids?”
““Oh never mind, let’s go ahead and open the box.”
“I’ll do it!”
[He races to the desk and pulls a bowie knife out of his pocket, much to the shock of… everyone. He expertly slips the blade through the packing tape. He rips the last remaining remnants and quickly opens the box, almost putting his head inside while bubbling with excitement.]
“Oh my God!”
“I… I can’t.”
“Are they bad?”
“Oh, they’re bad.”
[He reaches into the box and slowly lifts a shirt out, holding it up for the others to bask in the true glory that is having the words Bad Mother#%@!ers emblazoned across the front.]
“What in the name of all that’s holy?”
[Sashaying in the front door, wearing a Hugo Boss black suit with a white Calvin Klein band-collar linen shirt and Ferragamo loafers.]
“Hey! I see the new sh… oh my GOD what does that say?”
“Wait, you knew about this?”
“Just tell us what happened.”
“So the bossman wanted to look like a hero, and my sister’s kid’s friend’s baseball team was looking for a sponsor. So I connected them. But seriously, how could this even happen?”
“This is why. On the Directions portion of the receipt, in that idiot’s handwriting, it reads, ‘I want BMFers big and loud, right across the chest!’ BM3”
“Huh, His initials could stand for ‘bowel movement three.”
Everyone laughs, except for Randall.
“Had he used HighOrbit, someone would have caught that letter reversal mistake.”
“Did you really just say that?”
“I’m not a complete moron, Doug.”
“But what are we going to do about this? For God’s sake, we can’t let third graders wear those.”
Just then, an old grizzled baseball coach walks in the front door.
“Hello, you young people,” says the coach. “I was told I could pick up some baseball jerseys here.”
Everyone turns to Greg, who now looks like someone has just kicked his dog.