The air was stale. The tension palpable. A tumbleweed blew across the conference room table. Is that a harmonica I hear? No. Just a squeaky filing cabinet. I could feel the dust rising and churning around me as I stared into the eyes of Dungeon Master, Chris Tulach, my most dreaded enemy.

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About the Author

There’s a 75% chance that Shelly Mazzanoble turned this column in on time, an 85% chance next month’s will be later, and a 95% chance that she is all caught up on The Real Housewives of New York.