“Hey, Mike, sorry I'm late,” Jim Stanfield said as he placed his brown-bag lunch along with his book of crossword puzzles down onto his desk located directly across from Mike's. “No biggie,” shrugged Mike Kaputtie barely glancing up from the small television set he’d been glued to—an old black-and-white episode of the Andy Griffith Show was playing on its tiny screen. The graveyard shift so far that night at Airingdale Cryogenics, like all shifts at A.C. was slow, but midnights were by far the worst. The place could've practically run all by itself if need be. Backup systems upon backups, making sure that all the machinery and refrigeration units were working properly been installed years ago. The only time the facility ever
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He then finished his sip with a loud burp and said, “Well, I'm here because I got fired from the university when my boss—the distinguished Professor Warren Mitchell—got caught improperly using grant money. He got busted allocating the funds that were given to him for degenerative joint research on something that he wasn't supposed to be doing, and as a result, myself and the rest of the team went down with the ship. “And, as for you... you're just a fuck up,” Mike then said before giving Jim a little smirk to let him know that he was just joking, and then returning his attention back to the boob tube. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” Jim responded, shaking off his negative thoughts. “Hey, do you think I can get some of those chips?” Mike tossed him the bag. “How did you manage to get yourself fired from a funeral home anyways? Mike then asked. “I can't imagine too many of the patrons complaining all that much when you fuck up.” “Yeah, well... When you get caught by your boss fondling a dead woman’s tits, you tend to be shown the door real quick.” “What?” Mike spit out flabbergasted, his full attention finally being pulled away from the television. “It’s not like she was an old woman or anything gross like that, she was still young and firm,” Jim tried to explain as he raised his shoulders up in pleading his
He then finished his sip with a loud burp and said, “Well, I'm here because I got fired from the university when my boss—the distinguished Professor Warren Mitchell—got caught improperly using grant money. He got busted allocating the funds that were given to him for degenerative joint research on something that he wasn't supposed to be doing, and as a result, myself and the rest of the team went down with the ship. “And, as for you... you're just a fuck up,” Mike then said before giving Jim a little smirk to let him know that he was just joking, and then returning his attention back to the boob tube. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” Jim responded, shaking off his negative thoughts. “Hey, do you think I can get some of those chips?” Mike tossed him the bag. “How did you manage to get yourself fired from a funeral home anyways? Mike then asked. “I can't imagine too many of the patrons complaining all that much when you fuck up.” “Yeah, well... When you get caught by your boss fondling a dead woman’s tits, you tend to be shown the door real quick.” “What?” Mike spit out flabbergasted, his full attention finally being pulled away from the television. “It’s not like she was an old woman or anything gross like that, she was still young and firm,” Jim tried to explain as he raised his shoulders up in pleading his