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About Pecs

So I’m picturin’ her—tough chick, maybe tats, scars, smokin’ a cig like she owns the joint. I’d be all, “Hey, you, uh, workin’?”—smooth, Larry, real smooth. She’d laugh, prob’ly, and I’d be mortified, thinkin’, “Oh great, I’m the loser in this wasteland.” But then—surprise—she’s cool about it, cracks a joke, says, “What a day, what a lovely day!” and I’m dyin’ laughin’, ‘cause it’s *Fury Road*, it’s perfect! Pretty, pretty good, right?

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But then, I get a call from my boss. He’s not happy. “You’re makin’ a mockery of the station!” he says. I’m like, “C’mon, man! This is Orbottyan! We gotta embrace the chaos!” But he’s not havin’ it. I can feel my blood boilin’.

RCH mourns for Professor Ferenc Szűcs