Slim Pick'ns

I know some people that go for a walk whenever they come up against a wall, but that seldom did much for me. Besides, looking out the window at this point seemed like a little too much effort. I would have really liked for something even remotely interesting to have been happening outside, but no go. I thought about checking the status of the latest hurricane but it seemed trite to go looking into misery to satisfy my deadline.

I picked up the receiver just to make sure there was a dial-tone, which, unfortunately there was. Why do all the crazies call when I'm in the middle of something, and not when I'm considering a different vocation?

I checked the phone again, I was really surprised my editor hadn't called today, or the last few days for that matter. Then, Atta slams through the door like she just got into a fender-bender with...well, I can't think of anyone, I was going to say Prometheus, but she just laid a bombshell on me and I can't think straight.

"We've been bought," she pants.

I should have said something at this point but I seemed to be suffering from a sudden case of...This is hard for me, Reader, I just want you to know.

"He just calls himself 'Slim'," she continued, "apparently...well, he owns this now."

 Goddam Texans.