It's the end of the week again, here at Fruitcake Miniature College. Today's miniature class left before lunch with some of Cho's stash of magazines, which automatically meant Cho was now Head of Resources. It's a pleasure to see how her career here is progressing, all on her own merit and not because she sleeps with me. As well as Head of Animal Care, as you may know if you have time on your hands, she is now Chaplain and Multi-Faith-or-None Facilitator. Today, at our end-of-week review, she produced a cogent set of figures on the question of how soon I need a job, thus neatly becoming Head of Finance and also of HR .
As I say, here at Fruitcake Miniature College, it's the end of the week. Soon the Refectory will put on some pasta and open a bottle of red. Soon the teaching staff will go sentimental and put on some Jimi Hendrix. Fruitcake himself, the very hairy former vagrant cat of indeterminate years, is curled up asleep at the bottom of a wardrobe on some boxershorts belonging to the absent young genius who is the heir to our combined hopes, fears and DNA. Soon though our Principal will wake and shout for fish.
Before the shouting, psychedelic blues, and wine, I have just enough time to reflect on our review. I was able to report at it that, what with the miniature classes and the proofreading of post-grad necromancers' dissertations, I'm pulling in about a ton a week. This sounds heavy, but as you may know, this is merely English racing slang for one-hundred - pounds that is, or 'quid' (note absence of plural) or 'knicker' (no plural here either, in this context). This brings us back to boxershorts and may mean that, in consolation for Cho's meteoric rise up the FMC corporate ladder I have become Head of Undergarments. Not that the Principal wears any, of course.
Lately Fruitcake has been sleeping under the bed of our absent genius - right up against the bass guitar. Thus we have a Principal who is getting together by osmosis some heavy jazz-funk chops. If they could get him on stage in time, I could see him laying down the bottom line for. say, Sun Ra. Maybe he needs his own outfit, though: Fruitcake's Jazz Funk Organogram. I wonder if Steve Winwood and Billy Cobham would be interested. Hendrix is dead of course. Cheers all the same.