The Six Hundred Thousand Dollar Biscuit
Language: en
I was fined six hundred thousand dollars for eating a damn biscuit. I’d been pulling a double shift, my stomach was growling, and I grabbed a single shortbread from a tin on my desk. That was it. That was the "crime." Now, Regina Blackwood was standing over me, her finger trembling as she pointed it inches from my nose. She was vibrating with a localized, manic fury. "Don’t you dare think you're untouchable just because you closed that account, Jack!" she shrieked. Her face was a mottled shade of puce. "This is a place of business, not a cafeteria! If you want to gorge yourself, do it on…