-1My Monkey, My Angela  Author's Note: My first Dwangela fic!
Wow! Okay, well tell me what you think. nods yah...  All our
might can't change it at all Speed of light is slowing down to a
crawl And now we find that we'll take flight only when we fall
It was her third cup of coffee, black. No cream. No sugar. A
hint of cinnamon. She gulped it down and slammed the mug down
onto the matching saucer. Schnoogle, one of her many (but not
enough) cats, rubbed against her bare leg affectionately-pleased
to have her home so early in the day. Angela Martin didn't
believe in getting sick, nor did she believe in sickness
preventing one from going to work. What really got under her
skin was the fact that she was neither sick nor at work. It went
against everything she believed in, or rather, what she didn't
believe in. In her kid-sized PJs, she brooded at the kitchen
table, torn between crying and reading liberal blogs on the
internet just to get her blood boiling. What would the other
employees say when she didn't show