Retreat, Part III

The New Man asesses food situation and convinces Paul to drive him to the farm stand, the cheese shop, and the butcher. Comes back with sandwiches for lunch, and for dinner, steaks, corn, beets, and baby lettuces. We grill the steaks and drink gallons of wine. Attempt to eat outdoors. Mosquitos very plentiful. Say, Isn't it nice to eat out doors? Much slapping of necks and flinching away from the bugs. Admit defeat. Move indoors to large table in the kitchen. The vice-boss has half a beet and a cigarette. The rest of us eat like farm hands. The New Man, says, We never got to do any team building exercises. How about Charades. I kick the Contessa under the table. The Contessa gets the hint. She yawns very dramatically and says she is as Tired as a Dog. Must have been all that Tennis. The New Man, Paul, and the Contessa laugh. Seems have been left out of an inside joke, but grateful to the Contessa for getting us out of Charades. Vice-boss shows us to the bunk room. Get ready for bed. Discover that aave an angry looking Rash on face. Wash vigorously. Contessa already in bottom bunk bed. Say to her in sarcastic voice, Thank you for telling me my face looked like this. Says, looks like what? Sits up in bed. Oh, I thought you just had a Burn. What happened? Don't wish to admit to trying out the vice-boss's lotions, so change the subject. What was the big joke about tennis? The Contessa plumps up her pillow. Oh, We didn't play tennis, we got High. Am shocked. Am glad that didn't have to play tennis or get high, but both seem preferable to my afternoon with the Vice-boss, who after I complained about the heat, had me come inside with her and help her organize her Home Office. Organizing meant filing extremely old financial statements, changing the toner in the printer, and, when the schnoodle Marked his territory (the desk), had to clean that up. Organizing not so bad, but Vice-boss compelled to put on fashion show while I organized. Modeled swim suits and new dresses. Wanted to know What I thought. Thought (in all cases) that she was a Ewe dressed in Lamb's clothing, but, naturally did not share this. All in all, would have preferred high paranoia.

Contessa already snoring, book open across her ches. Turn off light. Settle into top bunk. Have nice full stomach and fall asleep immediately.