Where are my Finknottles?!?!

I rue the day I won that cursed columnist! I had to draw that pair of eights. Not a dead man's hand, but a deadbeat's hand. Friday comes and goes. No column. Monday. Nothing. And the maid says "Monsieur Firenozzle" is sick and not "receiving." Not that it matters, since he's the king of empty promises. Three columns a week, he says. Phooey! He's a drain on our resources. Weeks after Accounting discovered exorbitant charges at Pillwuzzle's pharmacy, we cut his spending account. Since then....poof! He comes in the office in the morning just long enough to snatch the donuts. Curiously, nobody ever sees him come in, but we know he's been there because there's still a whiff of his foul stench. Though, admittedly, one morning the odor turned out to be a dead mouse behind the cooler. Who could tell the difference? Incidentally, the office didn't even have a mouse problem before he came along. Cursed card game!