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Mort, the Shit Manager is a spin-off fictional series of short stories based loosely on the thoughts of David Mortenson, the tyrannical Kwiksave store manager who features in my auto-biographical series 'The Horrors of Kwiksave'.
Other Articles in this Series:
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oppression Supreme'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Armchair Club'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Bloody Nose'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Fresh Cream'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Oxidation'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Day Off'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'The Heat Machine'
Mort the Shit Manager: 'Mandy's Curves'
...'November 1979'...
...'WARNING - ADULT CONTENT'...
The attempt to get into Mandy's panties had been a disaster; Sharon had caught him red-handed, and worst of all his prospective dreamboat and lust of current life was threatening to report him to Area Manager, Elton Welsby.
He was very aware of Sharon’s intense dislike but figured a bribe would silence at least the details of his insubstantial manhood.
Had she already blabbed?
Mort had noticed the checkout girls were throwing ever so subtle smirks his way or was it his wild imagination?
His mind was cycling between fury, shame, and panic.
How dare she reject him? He.. Mort was boss supreme and had the power to sack her and all those worthless peons with just a word.
Mandy had not returned to Kwiksave since yesterday and that howler of an event. He had called her home several times but there had been no answer.
Suppressing Elton was not a big deal. There was no way he would believe a mere checkout operator over him, that was not the way things worked around here.
‘Sharon…, office.. now’, said Mort curtly forcing the raven-haired minx off a nearby checkout.
'Of course Mr. Mortenson', she replied with a flash of those big brown eyes.
With both of them in the office, Mort dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a ream of notes.
‘Thanks boss’, grinned Sharon snatching the lot before Mort had a chance to act.
'You know… your extra small secret is safe with me', she added using her most gentle childlike voice.
Those huge saucer-like eyes looked at him with innocence and feigned lust combined with the smallest quiver of her tongue.
The office door closed and Mort exhaled. That one could be manipulated but never trusted.
Several shrieks of distant laughter emitted from beyond the door.
It's just your imagination, nothing more....
Mort, the Shit Manager is a Serial Shitposting Fiction Story inspired by Torundel the Shitposter by 
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