Seventh of January

I am the tallest, strongest, and kindest Executive Officer in the world of business. My hands are almost twice the size of an average man's; and my smile will brighten your day. I like to help people.

Once, I walked outside of my company's building and began to stroll down the boulevard. There were birds in one of the trees, so I stopped and watched them for a while. Then, continuing on, I eventually came to a sight that startled me:

There, bloody and sprawled in the middle of the boulevard, was the slain body of an Executive Officer from another company. Thru the middle of his chest was a gaping round hole, which had obviously been made by a cannonball. And reclining nearby this corpse was Little Joe, the town drunk: he was leaning against a tree, with his right arm draped over a cannon; and Lil the Dancer was trembling at his side with a nervous expression. 

"What has happened here?" I addressed Little Joe. "Why is this Executive Officer lying dead, while you lean and loafe at your ease with this shivering damozel? Please explain yourself."

Little Joe looked up and met my eyes and said: "The deceased man is a bad fellow, so I had to blot him."

I tilted my head and demanded more details: "I'm willing to listen to your story; but you'll need to back up and recount exactly what happened, starting from the time when the Officer was alive."

"Sure," said Little Joe. "On my word as a gentleman, I will tell you the truth. It came to pass that around midafternoon, while stumbling out of the tavern, I happened to notice this Executive Officer leaving his company's building at the very same time. He looked to the left and the right, then he crossed the street and made a beeline for the Roman Fountain that is in the middle of the intersection yonder, where two unclad damzells were laughing and playing, as they are right now — see them over there?"

I turned and squinted: "Yes, I do."

Little Joe continued: "Well, as this Executive Officer crossed the busy street and entered the fountain, all the while, he had his arms extended (just like the way that Doctor Frankenstein's Movie Monster walks with his two arms uplifted before him); then this Executive Officer tried to grab one of the damzells, but, in a vain attempt to stop him, the other damzell started to pound on his back with her bare fists. This made the Officer swivel around and try to grab the damzell who was pummeling him. At this point, I piped up and shouted: 'Hey! Businessman! Stop bothering those two River Nymphs!' And the man lurched his entire body to face me and stared with an angry expression. I then hiccupped and managed to stumble over to this tree here, where this cannon is. When I reached it, I turned toward the Officer and made a motion with my hand that meant 'I dare you to approach a little closer'; and the fellow stepped out of the fountain and started walking directly toward me, with his arms out just like before. His loafers and pant legs were dripping a trail of water behind him, and he was walking faster than I imagined he would be able to. I kept fumbling with a pack of matches, trying to open it, until the villain was about one step away from strangling me; but, finally, I got the cannon lit, and it blew a hole right thru the man's ribcage."

I looked over again at the corpse in its pool of blood. "It is a good story, I admit."

Little Joe then said: "My friend Lil the Dancer here saw the whole thing, because she left the tavern right after me to follow me, with the aim of giving me the coins that I had absentmindedly left at the bar when I bought my last drink. So you can ask her to confirm my account, if you don't trust my word."

I turned to Lil, and she immediately began nodding and said "Joe's right. Everything happened, just as he said." Then she pointed to the fountain: "Ask the nymphs — they experienced it, too."

I waved my arm dismissively and replied: "Nah, I'd rather avoid interrupting the damzells — it looks like they're having fun. — I trust you both. I have faith in your testaments. Does not the Holy Bible say that two witnesses are sufficient?" 

Then I smiled very widely and said to Little Joe: "Joe, my boy, I can honestly say that I have never heard of a more dignified reaction to a dangerous situation than the one that you displayed on this occasion. You have acted in a fashion that shows not only courage but righteous judgment. On account of this, I want to make you my secretary. So I now ask you officially: Will you be my secretary?"

Little Joe looked up again and met my eyes (remember: I am tall) and answered: "Yes. I'd be honored to serve you, in whatever function I can. But may I ask: what shall my duties be? I'm just wondering whether this secretarial position is a standard desk job, where I can expect to be typing up a lot of cease-&-desist orders, answering e-mails, managing social media accounts, and taking down dictation; or if you mean that I'll act as your personal assistant and thus accompany you everywhere, and help you dress every morning, and stand proudly at your side during board meetings, and even represent you in court while wielding power-of-attorney over your finances."

I smiled at this question. "All of the above," I laughed. Then I repeated: "All of the above."

So Little Joe sobered up and became the best secretary that an Executive Officer could employ. The first item of business on our agenda was to visit the River Nymphs who were bathing in the Roman Fountain at the center of the intersection, to make sure that they felt safe.

"Excuse me, damozels," I said, approaching the fountain with Little Joe at my side and Lil the Dancer on horseback behind us, "my name is Big Bryan, and this here is my secretary Little Joe and our mutual friend Lil the Dancer on the nag. We apologize for interrupting your Love Scene here, but we just wanted to make sure that you two have everything that you need, and that you're not traumatized by the recent events. I refer to the Executive Officer who recently attempted to possess you but ended up getting slain by a cannonball on the boulevard."

Both damozels smiled and said: "We have what we need. Thank you for asking." Then they returned to their waterplay.

So, heading back to my company's building, we took the elevator up to my office and began the day's work. I dictated seven letters to the churches in MAZZAROTH; then we drew up some legal threats and mailed them off to our competition. 

"Shall we break for lunch?" I slapped Little Joe on the back, as he pressed the final key of our very last letter. (The typewriter's internal bell rang at that moment, signifying that he had reached the end of the line.) Joe craned his neck to look up at me and winked and said: 

"I thought you'd never ask!"

So we went to the company's cafeteria, which is located conveniently on the same floor as my office, and I ordered three ham sandwiches. When the chef was finished adding the final touches to the order, he handed me the food on a silver platter, whispering while doing so: "I put extra ham in each one." 

I bowed and thanked him. Then I walked over to the round table where we had chosen to dine, and I set the platter down. Joe and Lil each took their fare, as I sat down and reached out my large hands to take the remaining sandwich; then we all began to eat.

The sandwiches were delicious; we each remarked about how much we liked them. Then we all enjoyed a smoke, and hailed a cab to the courthouse.

We arrived late: the case that we were scheduled to attend had started a few hours ago. When the glass sliding doors opened automatically, we raised our arms so that the guards could use their metal detectors to scan us for weapons. Immediately I noticed that there was a light dusting of snow on the courtroom floor. After the guard on the right finished waving the detector-wand around my thick strong chest, I gestured and said "Looks like you got a little precipitation overnight. Would it help if we shoveled?" The man nodded while maintaining his stern expression (apparently he was afraid to answer verbally, since the judge was addressing the witness at the moment). So Joe and Lil and I cleared the walkways of the courtroom while the witness continued blubbering her replies to the judge's interrogation; then the three of us took our seats in the plaintiff booth. 

"What's going on?" I interjected in a booming voice, after taking my seat. "Can you fill me in? We just got here."

The judge banged his gavel and answered "Your client is enraged because the defendant, who happens to be her neighbor from across the street, continues repeatedly to park his ice-cream truck in front of their communal mailboxes."

Upon hearing this synopsis, I stared with my mouth open for a while and then replied: "I'm not sure I understand the problem."

The judge banged his gavel and explained "When a vehicle is blocking access to the communal mailboxes, the post office cannot deliver parcels to the residents. And when the flow of goods is bottlenecked in this fashion, society crumbles."

I tapped my large fingers together & said "Ah." Then I said "I see." Then I scowled, and, after a moment of deep thought, added "So who's at fault here?"

The judge looked at me like I was teasing him (tho I wasn't) as he replied: "The crime is systemic."

So we spent the rest of the evening amending the system. And that did the trick. It proved to be the first revolution in history accomplished solely by the act of filing paperwork. (I have Little Joe to thank, for that.) No bloodshed whatsoever, besides that initial cannonball blast.