And we have a NEW Host! Craig’s new right hand man, er, woman. The new Robin to his Batman. Tiffany, like Dick Grayson, decided it was time to find her own way and out of the shadows
Somewhere in the Caribbean:
The Beach was nice, the Sun was glorious and Tiffany was enjoying a nice tan and a drink. It was time to take a break and move on, even if she wasn’t quite where she wanted to move on next. But this environment certainly helped. Working with Craig was… interesting, but as the saying goes: All good things must come to an end.
A man with a tray walked along the beach and stood next to her. She thought it was a refill. Turns out it was a phone.
“A Call for you Ms. Simons,” said the man. “From a Ms. Adams.”
She rolled her eyes, not one day on the job and her successor was calling already.
“What’s up Kay?”
“Tiff? Is Craig for real? He has the oddest requests. I had to fill in an order for an oak chair with sculpted baseballs. Never mind the fact that I had to hunt down Mike Schmidt and Andre Dawson to sign those baseballs. Or rather sculpt their signatures into them. After that I had to inventory his collection of bobbleheads, which amounted to 273 of them with 19 different versions of Chipper Jones. He owns this huge Blimp and I needed to get air traffic clearance for it so he could get his own personal feed for the Yankees-Orioles game last night. Also, what’s up with the Bathrobe and the Bubble Pipe?”
“Kay, is the pay fantastic?”
Hesitation on the line. “The pay is awesome actually,” she said.
“Then just deal with it, don’t worry a lot of this stuff is basically harmless. Bye, bye.”
Tiffany chucked the phone into the sea. It was her time to go off into the sunset. Craig was Kay’s problem now.
Let’s just hope Kay doesn’t end up like Jason Todd. As for the reason I keep writing this stuff? Charlie Harper said it best: It amuses me.