Mr. Bloom smiled brightly when he entered Accounting. “Nims, I’ve hired you an assistant. This is Mrs. Galloway,” he added, stepping aside to admit a rather voluptuous woman with hair of an improbable shade and tortoiseshell spectacles. “I know you’ve been very busy lately. Mrs. Galloway will be a great help to you. She can sit at your spare desk. I’ll have Gus bring a typewriter around this afternoon.”

Mr. Nims looked up from his ledger. “Beg pardon?”

The General Manager indicated Mrs. Galloway. “This is your new assistant, Helen Galloway.”

Nims frowned. “Assistant? For what?”

“To help you, you silly goose,” Mrs. Galloway tittered, revealing enormous teeth. “Oh, isn’t he just adorable? You go on, Mr. Bloom, I think we’ll get along just famously.” She adjusted Mr. Nims’ green visor, which sat backwards on his head.

“Don’t touch my visor, please.” Mr. Bloom had already left the office. Nims apprised Mrs. Galloway warily. “If you’ll just sit at the spare desk quietly, I must return to my work.”

Mrs. Galloway seated her plump derriere on the wooden chair and adjusted her green dress over her ample décolletage. “Adorable, that’s what you are. Why, you remind me of my dear departed Herbie. That’s my husband. He’s deceased. Is your name Herbie, by any chance? It’d be just perfect if it was.”

“…point eight zero six. Beg pardon?”

“Is your name Herbie?”

Mr. Nims squinted. “No. Good heavens, no. What a silly name. Please hush, madam. I am completing a rather complicated—”

“Zip the lip? Don’t you fret, I won’t say another word.” Mrs. Galloway mimed a zipper across her scarlet lips. “You do what you need to do, and I’ll just tidy up our cozy little office.”

“Hmmph,” Nims replied skeptically.

Mrs. Galloway fluttered around the room, straightening piles of papers and clucking in distaste at the dust on the file cabinets. She shoved a folder under the little accountant’s nose. “Where does this go?”

Nims sneezed. “I don’t know. Just leave it on the cabinet. I’ll get to it later.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Galloway opened the window. “This place could use a little fresh air. Have you ever been married, Mr. Nims?”

“What? No, of course not. Look, I’m rather busy—will you please stop that?”

Mrs. Galloway finished straightening the little accountant’s bowtie and pinched his cheek for good measure. “What a handsome man you are. So strong and authoritative.”

“If we are to share an office, Mrs. Galloway, please cease using quite such an abundance of perfume,” Nims choked. “It is rather overpowering.”

Mrs. Galloway smiled. “You noticed! Do you like it? It’s very expensive.” She giggled girlishly, then caught sight of the box on the windowsill. “Ooh, what’s in there?”

“My pet, Sir Galahad. Must you insist on interrupting my—”

A frightening sound came from Mrs. Galloway’s lips, and suddenly she was cowering atop the spare desk. “Ooh! A cockroach! A cockroach!”

“Oh, do shut up,” said Mr. Nims, and went back to his work.

Copyright 2005 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.
Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.