Martin spent the morning thinking outside the box, but when he tried to get back in, he bumped his head on a sharp corner. It staggered him a little. Rubbing the bump, he peered cautiously around the entrance to his formerly safe cubicle. The collage of clippings and pictures and cards which he had posted up on his little bulletin board had now transmogrified into the real thing. Zip the Cat was sniffing around in those boots from the Texas Folklife Festival. The quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers was cavorting with one of Modigliani’s nudes. And Cartman and John the Baptist were having a beer at the Burp Castle on East 7th St. in New York City.
Martin cleared his throat. The quarterback sat down in Martin’s visitor chair, adjusting his shoulderpads. The nude covered herself as best she could with the CENSORSHIP CAUSES BLINDNESS placard, and rushed to the bathroom to compose herself. Martin sat down in his chair, swiveled a little huffily to his keyboard, and resumed his work on the quarterly report.