*The Scene: The lunch room of a light-blue-collar workplace. By the sink a Panda is absentmindedly washing her lunch dishes. Everyone else is seated at the long tables. The usual bullshit peanut gallery running commentary that accompanies the local afternoon news is up and dribbling. The Panda muses to herself, “Seriously, can we please talk about how much men talk? I mean really. There is so much mindless chatter directed at the TV in my workplace, foolios don’t even wait to find out what a news item is even about before they start clucking like abuncha fucking hens. And yet it’s WOMEN who get the “chatty” rep. Sheeeit. I nearly decked my hubs cold last night when he refused to quit babbling during Gossip Girl.” The usual weather reports and stories of negligent infant homicide are not on the tube, but instead a promo for an upcoming episode of fatsploitation drama The Biggest Loser rings out over the dining din. A grumbling emerges, attention shifts, and the black and white one hears:
Male Co-Worker: “I don’t see why they can’t put titties on TV. Like, women titties. You see that guy right there has more titties than a lot of women have, and they’re showing his bare titties. Bare titties, on TV. If they can put those titties on TV, I don’t see why they can’t *grumble grumble” titties *grumble grumble* tits titties tits.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!!* A riot of gore spatters every surface of the lunchroom as the head of a Panda bursts open like an overripe plum loaded with C4.