Free Pulpy and Midge by Jessica Westhead

other people,’ said Gary. ‘That’s my own thing. I do not go around creating pain. I mean, sometimes it happens, you don’t intend it, but it happens. That’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine – you didn’t mean it, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. But my own personal agenda is not to deliberately set out and make people miserable. Which is what some people do, and the way I feel is that the people in positions of power are the most insecure people, because they go after that power because they’re insecure and they need to control the world around them.’
    The receptionist was nodding at everything he was saying.
    â€˜It’s the people who
don’t
care about power, those are the ones who are the most secure in themselves and what they’re doing. Because they don’t need to assert themselves in that way. They don’t need to go around creating misery. And that’s me. I make it my policy
not
to create it. And that’s what I go by and that’s my motto. I feel really strongly about that.’
    Pulpy put his coat away and walked over to them. ‘Hi, Gary,’ he said. ‘What are you up to these days?’
    â€˜Pulpy! Long time no see.’ He flipped a hand palm up and palm down. ‘Some of this, some of that – I’ve gone freelance. I’m a consultant now.’
    Pulpy strolled over to the staircase and leaned against it. ‘Who do you consult?’
    â€˜No, no.’ Gary shook his head. ‘
They
consult
me.
’
    â€˜Who’s “they”?’
    â€˜Whoever I’m working for.’

    â€˜You’re your own boss,’ said the receptionist.
    â€˜That’s right.’ Gary stuck out his chest. ‘It’s a whole new world when you’re working for yourself. And if you ask me, a better world.’
    Pulpy looked down at his starchy golf shirt. He didn’t play golf. Why was he wearing a golf shirt?
    Gary was wearing jeans and a sports jersey. ‘Yep. No more watching the old clock for this guy, no sir.’
    â€˜Sounds like the life for me,’ said the receptionist.
    â€˜It is the life,’ said Gary. ‘It is
the
life. It’s a whole new perspective when you’re working for a client instead of a boss. And if you ask me, a better perspective.’
    Pulpy looked at the receptionist and then back to Gary. ‘I bet it’s complicated to do your taxes,’ he said.
    â€˜Oh, I have an accountant for that.’
    â€˜You have your own accountant?’ said the receptionist.
    â€˜Uh huh. We do a trade: I consult for him, he does my taxes.’
    â€˜I do my own taxes,’ said Pulpy, a little louder than he meant to.
    â€˜I used to do my own taxes,’ said Gary, ‘back when I worked nine to five. But now I have so many different sources of income, I can’t keep track of them all. Ha, ha!’
    â€˜Ha,’ said Pulpy.
    The receptionist had her elbows up on her desk and was resting her chin on her hands, staring at Gary. The overhead fluorescents glinted off her glasses.
    â€˜Hel-lo there,’ said Dan, from the stairs.
    They all jumped a little at his voice, and looked up.
    Dan hopped down two steps at a time, winking at Pulpy as he passed him. ‘Hi. I’m Dan, the new supervisor,’ he said to Gary. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
    â€˜This is Gary,’ said Pulpy. ‘He used to work in Packaging.’
    â€˜Packaging, eh?’ Dan crossed his arms. ‘Well now.’
    â€˜But now he’s a consultant,’ said the receptionist.

    Gary cleared his throat. ‘I just came by to see if you might need any help around here.’
    â€˜Oh, well,’ said Dan, ‘I think we’re doing fine, thanks.’ He looked at Pulpy. ‘Who’s in Packaging now, what’s his name?’
    â€˜Jim.’
    â€˜Well, we’ve got Jim now,’ said Dan. ‘So I think