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Vice boss comes in from outdoors wrapped in fur coat, fur hat of type worn by the Anna Karenina on cover of paperback. Vice-boss sheds fur, hat, cashmere cardigan. Fur coat gets flung on the Contessa's desk. The Contessa types briskly on her keyboard. Recieve email that says, I am calling PETA. Either that or having a bloody nose. The Vice-Boss stands in front of my desk with hands on hip. Says, I brought you treats. Am very excited at idea of Treat even though, given Vice-Boss's track record, treat likely to be seaweed squares or similar. Look at Vice-boss and sense that something is wrong with her. Maybe she still has another later to keep off? Realize with a jolt that has gotten a little chunky. When did this happen? Notice that she has hips all of a sudden, and her face doesn't look like the skull might poke through at any minutes. She roots through the pockets of her fur and pulls out a baggie of crumbs. Says, I know there's another in here somewhere. Retrieves half eaten bag of chocolate chocolate chip. Sets on the Contessa's desk. The Contessa says, Did you make these? (bags are clearly labled Whole Foods and feel that the Contessa is getting ready to pick a fight.) The Vice-Boss snaps, Yes, in fact, I did make them and waddles regally into her office, shutting door. For some reason, am shattered for the rest of the afternoon.