Lucky Shoes

It was a fine spring afternoon, the sort that people generally prefer to spend outside, pretending that it's summer and catching colds and hypothermia. Still, it was a fine enough day, and it was all the worse to have to spend it indoors, in a room full of people, waiting for the accountant to arrive. And the Lucky Shoes' accountant was growing late. Not even fashionably late by this point, in fact, just dreadfully, horribly, unimaginably late.

The reason for this meeting, apparent "negotiations" were actually a mystery to everyone in the room. All of them were ill-prepared for the required "presenting of portfolios" and felt themselves like students that was forced into a tedious and useless course on some type of business management or another. The chairman sighed and waved his hand in the air for attention. "To keep your spirits up, I will now display the projected sales chart. Again!", he announced in a tone so filled with pretended cheerfulness that his voice caught up. "Not again", the Vice President murmured, scratching an irritable patch of dry skin on his knee, "Where the hell is she?"

Just as he uttered these words, the door swung open, and the accountant marched, triumphantly, mercilessly planting her heels onto the unsuspecting floor. The gathering looked at her, seemingly baffled - with a good reason, too, as the woman was dressed in a tone some could find unbefitting the occasion. The black business dress was still fine, though, but it was the black veiled hat and the dangerously high stiletto shoes of a matching colour that weren't. A small handbag, and a set of firetruck-red nails completed the picture.

"I will be brief, ladies and gentlemen, having caused you to wait so long", the accountant declared, "As of today, Lucky Shoes in its entirety shall cease to exist. The funds will be transferred to my personal Swiss account, and the property will be auctioned - with the winnings sharing the same fate as the rest of the money. That said..."

She made a dramatic pause, looking at the stunned expressions of the members of the board, and, finally, continued, just as the chairman prepared to open his mouth. "You, my dears, will have to die. Your meetings are such a drag!"

With a short giggle, the accountant produced a pistol from her bag, and moments later, none of the members of the board found themselves in a position to object.