Jesus fishes out another keeper from the sea of slushilee

[Jesus looks over at Ms. DePlancher]

Yes, yes, dear DePlancher. Why do these VCs insist on not trying. This is the point where Boligard would throw a fit, eh? He'd curse and shout and ask the VC to pull his or her head out of someplace dank and dark. Hah.

[Jesus taps some ash into the ridiculously huge ashtray]

I've a good one here.

[He pokes at the cap laid out on the desktop]

Isaac Boone Davis's If You Was A Squirrel.

[Jesus sucks on the wet tip of the Java, and he shoves the combat glasses up into the mess of hair on his head]

Now this fellow can write. I mean, seriously, I wonder at the thought patterns of VCs who toss poop into the salad crisper, if you catch my meaning. But this guy, Isaac, can write. The idea's a good one, and by golly he can write, so...

[Jesus jumps to his feet and stomps over to the tube. He traces the cross and the lid pops open and what with the whooshing and the stuffing and the rising, blah, blah, blah. Jesus backs away from the tube, oily smoke like a snake's ass]

Isaac rises.