The Electric Mayhem.
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.
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.
HRL: Have you anything to say?
Me: Am I right in thinking that this meeting is entirely imaginery? And that it may never occur?
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.