Fired

Bob avoids eye-contact while he shuffles through a stack of papers on his desk, “so’, he pauses to steel himself, ‘we got to fire you.”

“Interesting,” Georgia, the half-giant, looks down at the jiggly-soft-man finding herself wondering how he’d taste.

Her stomach growls.

Bob flinches.

Turns out, raw, Bob tastes horrible.

 

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