Timmy Spabe
“10 minutes until show,” said the brown skinned young man who was wearing a headset. “I'm doing my best,” Chox barked. He was furiously working his way through the slide deck trying to make all of the changes. “Well you need to work faster, vato.” “And who the hell are you?” Chox snapped. “My name is Cholo Marquez and I click the slide deck for the speaker onstage and I also maintain the show computers that project the slides,” he said gravely. “I am also a Mexican.” Chox slammed his fist on the desk. “I hate Times New Roman. I'm changing the font.” “To what?” said Cholo. “Comic Sans.” “Ay yi yi!” Cholo gasped. “Ain't nobody ever used that font in a presentation before, papi!” “Well I am.” “They gonna fire you.” Chox looked at Cholo. “If they are gonna fire me, then I will hand them the match.” “You got big cojones, I give you that Gringo.” Chox made his final change and then handed Cholo a floppy disc. “Here you go.” “It was nice working with you, pepino,” Chox said as he began copying the slide deck to his system. Chox rubbed his weary eyes. “Yes.”
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