Friday, November 7, 2008

Workplace of the Damned

One fine morning in May 1965, Mary Frances realized that the only difference between her life in the steno pool and that of a hen on an egg-battery farm was that eventually someone put the hen out of her misery. And that the hen didn't have to spend forty minutes every morning back-combing her goddam hair for no reason at all.

Three weeks later she followed Lorna in Accounting right over to dancing at the Velvet Room Niteclub Burlesk up on State Street, and she never looked back.

1 comment:

  1. Go Mary Frances, go. I hoist my sidecar to you.

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