The Electric Mayhem.
Interior. Day.
Human Resourses Office.
HR Lady: Good afternoon Mr.Dad. I assume you know why you're here?
Me: Is it because I've done something good?
HRL:Sarcasm does not go very far here Mr.Dad.
Me: Right.
HRL: Are you familiar with an employee named Dr.Teeth?
Me: Oh for fu-
HRL: We will not tolerate profanity in this office Mr.Dad. This is Human Resources, not some dandy devil-may-care office enviroment that is concerned with real work. So. If you please.
Me: Let's hear it then.
HRL: Very well. You understand that part of our group company policy - as with any employers of calibre -is to ensure a safe and secure working enviroment for our employees?
Me: Ok then.
HRL: Mmm. This extends to physical assualt from co-workers.
Me: Oh the pussy, he hasn't actually put in a complai-
HRL: ENOUGH. This policy not only extends to physical well-being but also includes any psychologi- DO NOT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME OR PULL THAT FACE - any psychological damage that employees may suffer at the hands of co-workers.
Me: Right.
HRL: Have you anything to say?
Me: Am I right in thinking that this meeting is entirely imaginery? And that it may never occur?
HRL: Yes.
Me: Then not really. No.
Two days previously. Previous to this imaginary conversation.
I return to my desk after much important walking around.
MY AFTERNOON CONFECTIONARY HAS VANISHED!
I round on Uncannily Similar and Grotbags. They deny knowledge. I do not bother with Other Colleague as he has previously referred to me as a 'frightening psychopath' and as such I doubt he'd have the courage.
(Note to any new readers. I am neither frightening nor a psychopath but tend to be surrounded by weaklings who are easily intimidated. I do not believe myself to be 'hard' is the point I am making. I'm 5'8" and 8 stone.)
This leaves Dr. Teeth.
Me: Where's my chocolate Teeth?
DT: What? Hahahah.
Me: You fucking heard. Do I look like I'm in the fucking mood for this. Fucking do I?
DT: Don't know what you're on about mate. And what's with the teeth thing-
Me: You're not my fucking mate and you look like the fucking band-leader off of the Muppet Show and where is my fucking chocolate?
Grotbags: Jesus Tired. Why don't you take your face for a shit?
I ignore her. She's a good friend but fuck her. I want my chocolate.
Me: This isn't fucking funny. You. You fucking-Jim-Henson-Creature-Workshop-looking twat, where is it?
Before I recieve an answer I lose my peripheral vision, grab the nearest thing to me and throw it.
Fortunately it turns out to be a half-full bottle of mineral water. (Actually it is a mineral water bottle filled with tap-water. This is because I like to Keep It Real and Stick It To The Man.) It glances off his chin and hits the floor with a satisfying 'flopple' sound.
He got off lightly. It could have been a hole-punch. I knew someone who threw staplers without looking at the potential target so I think I'm fine.
Dr.Teeth: You fucking twat. I've fucking decked people for less than that.
Me: Yeah? Big words, especially coming from a medical man. You're not even looking me in the eye.
Uncannily Similar: I wasn't sure when I saw that it said 'Not For Girls' on the wrapper. But I think you deserve it back. Here's your Yorkie bar. It was me.
Me: You cocking fucking cock.
US: How's it going anyway? The whole 'quit smoking' thing?
Me: Fuck off.
Human Resourses Office.
HR Lady: Good afternoon Mr.Dad. I assume you know why you're here?
Me: Is it because I've done something good?
HRL:Sarcasm does not go very far here Mr.Dad.
Me: Right.
HRL: Are you familiar with an employee named Dr.Teeth?
Me: Oh for fu-
HRL: We will not tolerate profanity in this office Mr.Dad. This is Human Resources, not some dandy devil-may-care office enviroment that is concerned with real work. So. If you please.
Me: Let's hear it then.
HRL: Very well. You understand that part of our group company policy - as with any employers of calibre -is to ensure a safe and secure working enviroment for our employees?
Me: Ok then.
HRL: Mmm. This extends to physical assualt from co-workers.
Me: Oh the pussy, he hasn't actually put in a complai-
HRL: ENOUGH. This policy not only extends to physical well-being but also includes any psychologi- DO NOT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME OR PULL THAT FACE - any psychological damage that employees may suffer at the hands of co-workers.
Me: Right.
HRL: Have you anything to say?
Me: Am I right in thinking that this meeting is entirely imaginery? And that it may never occur?
HRL: Yes.
Me: Then not really. No.
Two days previously. Previous to this imaginary conversation.
I return to my desk after much important walking around.
MY AFTERNOON CONFECTIONARY HAS VANISHED!
I round on Uncannily Similar and Grotbags. They deny knowledge. I do not bother with Other Colleague as he has previously referred to me as a 'frightening psychopath' and as such I doubt he'd have the courage.
(Note to any new readers. I am neither frightening nor a psychopath but tend to be surrounded by weaklings who are easily intimidated. I do not believe myself to be 'hard' is the point I am making. I'm 5'8" and 8 stone.)
This leaves Dr. Teeth.
Me: Where's my chocolate Teeth?
DT: What? Hahahah.
Me: You fucking heard. Do I look like I'm in the fucking mood for this. Fucking do I?
DT: Don't know what you're on about mate. And what's with the teeth thing-
Me: You're not my fucking mate and you look like the fucking band-leader off of the Muppet Show and where is my fucking chocolate?
Grotbags: Jesus Tired. Why don't you take your face for a shit?
I ignore her. She's a good friend but fuck her. I want my chocolate.
Me: This isn't fucking funny. You. You fucking-Jim-Henson-Creature-Workshop-looking twat, where is it?
Before I recieve an answer I lose my peripheral vision, grab the nearest thing to me and throw it.
Fortunately it turns out to be a half-full bottle of mineral water. (Actually it is a mineral water bottle filled with tap-water. This is because I like to Keep It Real and Stick It To The Man.) It glances off his chin and hits the floor with a satisfying 'flopple' sound.
He got off lightly. It could have been a hole-punch. I knew someone who threw staplers without looking at the potential target so I think I'm fine.
Dr.Teeth: You fucking twat. I've fucking decked people for less than that.
Me: Yeah? Big words, especially coming from a medical man. You're not even looking me in the eye.
Uncannily Similar: I wasn't sure when I saw that it said 'Not For Girls' on the wrapper. But I think you deserve it back. Here's your Yorkie bar. It was me.
Me: You cocking fucking cock.
US: How's it going anyway? The whole 'quit smoking' thing?
Me: Fuck off.
posted by Tired Dad at
11:01 pm
12 Comments:
*empathises wildly between unladylike guffaws*
sounds like reasonable behavior..
I mean jesus christ, we're talking chocolate here!
And it was a Yorkie bar too. What is this world coming to?
A flopple doesn't sound too serious - not that he didn't deserve much worse.
I think i hurt something, laugh so hard while trying to breath.
Nicking a mans chocolate is a capital offence. Nothing short of a knee in the gonads. He got off lightly - which is just as well as it wasn't him.
Smoke dope mate. It'll chill yer out and you could be the Pete Doherty of blogland and get to bonk Kate Moss.
I'm pissed.
I had a boss once that looked like the Muppet, Bald Eagle. But he never nicked any of my chocolate. So the similarity ends there.
Oh no, hang on...he was a cock too.
Flipping muppets....
About that "Yorkie is for guys thing" -- will they actually refuse to sell it to me at the local off license? Or would I need a fake ID?
You should probably take up smoking again, lest you end up doing time.
It's the NHS' fault. I've seen their adverts encouraging people to quit smoking... yeah, but how many people die from being hit by staple guns, hole punches, Yorkie bars and so on each year... they don't share those figures with us, do they. Bastards.
People steal chocolate bars and bystanders are gonna get hurt.
And usually people who have decked people for less than that or could've decked you if they weren't such a nice guy or think you betta watchit sunshine, usually they've never so much as stuck their foot out in a crowded restaurant to trip over that really obnoxious person that really ought to be tripped over even if said obnoxious person wouldn't have even known it was them that tripped them over.
Uh.
Yeah.
Good shit.
Right. Sorry. I've had my head up my arse.
Ang: I like a lady who laughs without fearing herself un-ladylike.
C: Quite.
Grax: I know.
Me: No-one laughs that hard. But thank you.
Dinners: Clearly if your daughter gets hold of this. I don't think you need any additionals. You sound ok though. I'm glad, and glad the she sounds good too.
Missy: Myself and Uncannily Similar are often compared to the two old guys in the balcony. Grr.
C: You just cannot buy them. Marketing genius.
Franki: A very real possibility.
Shane: The tax I'm not paying the government by quiting will grind the NHS to a holt. Who's sorry now?
Pie: Welcome back. Apallingly, I getcha.
Tired, have you seeeen the new mars ad?!
Made me think of you, and now I think you could use those ropes to strangle the f*cker who nicks your chocolate!
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