The Gathering Storm: An Opco Boone Adventure

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The artist once known as the Barber sat alone and isolated in a dingy internal office. A mildewed graveyard of tombstones stretched away across his desk hemmed in and overgrown by gnarled stacks of offering circulars, overgrown trust deeds and rotten closing agendas, belching side letters into a wastepaper basket.

I’m reviewing
The confirmation
Can a fellow be a minion all his days?
All the files and information
Who knew a bank could set-off in so many ways.

“I say has, that deal of yours gone pear-shaped?” Barber looked up at a smug, pudgy, floppy-haired youth, leaning on his door-jamb. Looks like it has properly cratered.

“Yes, Roly, you could say that.”