Don’t ask me about my day…
I was late for work this morning. I’m never late for work. Yes I am. I don’t know why I said that. I’m late almost every day. No one says anything about it, so I’m not worried.
Anyway, I was late. Only fifteen minutes late, though, and I was still there before the boss. I don’t usually see him. I’ve only actually seen him four or five times in the two years I’ve worked there, so when I say I was there before the boss, I mean someone told me I was there before him.
I spent the rest of the morning organizing my desk, making copies, and practicing calligraphy at my desk. That guy who sits near me, I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned him to you before, but that guy… He’s a real twat. He kept clicking his pen, acting like he had real business to take care of, but I know. I know he doesn’t do dick, just like me, because we have the same job. I don’t even remember what my job description is, but I know we were hired at the same time, and we both do a whole lot of nothing. About three hours into the morning he walks over to my desk and asks if I got that thing he had sent me earlier. What the fuck thing… Is he referring to any one of the many chain emails he has sent me? Or perhaps the pile of blank copy paper he put in a folder and set in my inbox. Yes, I saw you put it on the bottom of everything that was already in there, you ginger nimrod fuck.
Then it was lunch time. Thank Christ for lunch. I don’t eat lunch in the cafeteria. I consider lunch my only time to get away from the bureaucratic masses. I’m not sure I can physically get far enough from it in the hour I’m allotted. I used to eat with everyone else… But the chewing sounds and the collective human stench just… broke me. Instead, I spend the time outside. Wandering the area, smoking my menthol’s, and dreaming of a time that never was and most likely will never be.
After lunch I went back to my desk, googled a few things, and ate a banana. That ginger cunt spent a good portion of time staring at me, which made me feel strange, so I went to the third floor copy room to make copies of a book I don’t want to have to pay for. I stole it from this chick at work for a bit so I could make copies. It’s time consuming, but what else am I going to do at work?
While in the copy room, this guy, who I assume is from the third floor, came in to make copies. I stopped what I was doing, and let him take over the machine. He thanked me, and started making his copies. He only had three. He said the book I was copying was pretty bad, and told me I could have his copy. He was on to me, and I hadn’t said a single word to him. I locked the door to the small room and pulled out my cigarettes. I looked at him and he put his hand out, signaling that he wanted one as well. After realizing I forget my matches, I threw the small box on the table next to me and grabbed the guys tie to pull him closer to me. Our lips touched and there was a lot of tongue before he picked me up and threw me on top of the copy machine. We fucked for like, ten minutes, and I give the guy credit, because I came, and that rarely happens with the lights on. Then we smoked those cigarettes because, as it turns out, he had a lighter the whole time. I still hadn’t said a single word.
I went back to my desk and waited for the day to end, avoiding eye contact with the ginger as much as humanly possible. Eventually, this plump brunette invited me to her bull shit candle pressure party, and I declined by way of a massive lie, as usual.
I punched out five minutes early and lit up on the walk home. Now I’m here.
How was your day?
