Untitled (2017.10.17)

Friday, October 27th, 2017 – Banská Bystrica, Slovakia – 21:03pm

Despite the burst of narcissistic garbage,

I still looked upon my boss with

Psychedelic reverence.

The shine on his cufflinks,

The crease in his trousers,

The lack of s**t on his shoes.

He had always been

My Christ incarnate

            Y’know… if Christ had actually been real,

            But that’s beside the point…

He was my f*****g holy spirit,

All knowing,

            All powerful,

Unfiltered,

            All in-your-face-put-up-with-no-bullshit,

            King of goddamn Kings

And then SHE came along,

That b***h!

With her serrated stilettos,

Awkward, yet melodious voice,

And that dramatic, post-modern sultriness

That turned the heads of everyone in the office.

So what if she could do the work of three assistants,

For the price of one.

Just her presence in the office destroyed everything,

            My ability to complain about the coffee,

            My cultivated procrastination,

            My secret infidelity with that girl in the copy room who always called me Hank.

And now she had taken my Alpha and Omega

And reduced him to a drooling man-beast

With nothing on his mind but

            Organization,

            Scheduling,

Authoritative tone,

            Managerial competence,

            And - for f**k sakes -

            Clear, measurable and agreed-upon objectives.

So, I decided - with an authoritative tone - that the b***h must die.

I laid out my plans, with clear, measureable, and agreed-upon objectives in Microsoft Word,

Listed my resources in colourfully-themed Excel Spreadsheets,

Presented myself with an amazing play-by-play visual in Powerpoint,

And sent myself reminders, alarms, and posted calendar dates in Outlook

            You know, so I wouldn’t forget s**t.

I knew my attention to detail and adherence to this newfound managerial process, that was instilled in my now false god by this impertinent secretarial succubus, would not be lost upon him, so for the next few days I strutted with pride in the office, even to the point where my colleagues noticed that I was more professional and less lackadaisical than usual. There was even talk me getting that month’s staff bonus for improvement. That was until the Cops showed up and threw my a*s in jail for conspiracy to commit premeditated murder or some s**t like that. Apparently my professionalism (and especially the Powerpoint presentation showing the steps I would take to dispose of that b***h’s body after the poisoning) provided them with an open-and-shut case. Now I lay here on the cold surgical steel of the execution room - I should have known moving to a State where capital punishment was still legal was a mistake - needles in my arm and waiting for the sodium thiopental to induce the first stage of eternal sleep and I can’t help but wonder who got MY monthly bonus.

 

Oh yeah… and my boss married that girl from the copy room that I used to f**k.

 

And the b***h secretary?

 

She is sitting on the other side of the glass, pale-skinned and perfectly made up, with a glass of wine, a cigarette, and the most uninterested half-smile since Apple announced the iPhone 8.

Author's Note

I honestly had no idea where this was going when I wrote it. Keep in mind that it may confuse. ;)