Too Much Time on His Hands

Kirk was bored. Actually, he was under employed. It's not easy to go from 14 hour days, constant pressure work to a simple management position in a software company. At first he would keep his computer on all night long and check emails constantly until he realized that the business world doesn't exactly operate on that sort of timeline.

So... he got a little bored. And when Kirk got bored he tended to find ways to occupy himself.

Take K, for instance. She was a beautiful, intelligent, charming woman with an unfortunate habit of confession. She just couldn't seem to stop herself from telling Kirk things. They weren't terrible things mind, no venal sins, or dreadful secrets, just things that fed his active brain in ways she might not have anticipated. One of those confessions took on a life of its own.

First Kirk let it be known that he knew Something about K. Something, the implication was, dark and sinister, or maybe just horribly embarassing. Naturally the entire group began to beg and plead to be told what Something was.

Oh no, Kirk said, eyes wide and innocent, I couldn't possibly tell you this Something, it is... just too ... no, I couldn't.

This went on for about two weeks. Then:

'Well.... maybe I could give a hint.'

I don't remember all the hints but 'Paintbrushes' was one and 'All of Cuba knows what's in a name' was another (I supplied that one. I never said I wasn't bored too)

Curiosity began to boil over. I think the meanest trick was when he wrote the whole thing out in white text at the bottom of an email and then happily claimed 'but I already told you!'

I think they managed to spin it out for a month or so. Finally K was supplied with proper accessories, and brought in some props for the denoument.

K (poor woman) had been the Castroville artichoke princess.