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On the day in question, Mr. Tronald Dump had just fired the entire staff of the Dump Building Headquarters without warning. Security ushered the now former staff members towards the exits.
Dump himself had confiscated a box one of the middle aged middle managers was trying to take along. The box was now on his enormous desk.
“Office supplies,” Dump muttered, pulling out a legal pad from the cardboard cube. “What else?”
Dump dumped the contents out. A mug that said World’s Best Daddy on one side with a picture of a smiling girl about age six on the other. Some crayon drawings and more photos of the little girl, all of which went right in the trash. And a brass lamp. It resembled the sort of ancient lamp that people in ancient times used to provide light.
( He picked it up and examined it... )
Dump himself had confiscated a box one of the middle aged middle managers was trying to take along. The box was now on his enormous desk.
“Office supplies,” Dump muttered, pulling out a legal pad from the cardboard cube. “What else?”
Dump dumped the contents out. A mug that said World’s Best Daddy on one side with a picture of a smiling girl about age six on the other. Some crayon drawings and more photos of the little girl, all of which went right in the trash. And a brass lamp. It resembled the sort of ancient lamp that people in ancient times used to provide light.
( He picked it up and examined it... )