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« Independence Day | Main | Fashingbauer Can't Quit His Job »
Tuesday
Jul012008

Setting Traps Around the Office

When I say "setting traps" around the office, I'm not speaking metaphorically as in a political reference;beartrap.jpg I'm being literal.

Fiona the Cunt has been fucking with Conklin's head. Now that she knows I started the rumor about conference room 3402 being haunted, she's using it against Conklin. She told him that she was up there preparing for a meeting for Mulhausen when she heard a voice. At first, she thought it was someone outside the conference room, but then she realized that it was her sister, Conklin's dead slutty wife, trying to communicate with her.   

Conklin was about to go up to the conference room and apologize to the ghost of his dead slutty wife for causing a truck to accidentally kill her because of his failed attempt to murder her. Luckily, I intervened. Fiona the Cunt most likely has the conference room bugged, ready to record any such confession.

That bitch.

So I put a couple of bear traps around her desk this morning. That's right. Bear traps.

I found them at an army surplus store. Cheap and all rusted up. I also laced her coffee mug with Drano. Sometimes you just have to send a clear message that you're not fucking around.

So I was sent to HR today for trying to trap a vice president's assistant. Oh, and also for trying to poison her.

I told Triplet, the VP of HR, that I was not the culprit. I told her that I have had several anonymous death threats myself, including finding a jug of Drano on my desk, which sent a very clear message to me at the time. It appears that I'm not the only victim of these anonymous death threats.

I also pointed out that nobody gave a shit when I complained. Now I'm being blamed? I hardly think I threatened myself...

Triplet did remember my complaints and also that she didn't give a shit. Surprisingly, she also saw the similarities in the death threats and concluded that even I would not threaten myself.

I stopped off at Fiona the Cunt's desk to gloat. She had this real unemotional, stone cold look on her face. Those piercing blue eyes said all she needed to say to me... 

I used to believe I would be killed someday by a jealous and temporarily insane man, one of half a dozen husbands whose wives I fuck on a regular basis. I now believe I will be murdered by Fiona the Cunt. It's just a matter of time.

Well... Speaking of time. It's time to go fuck one of those wives. Have a good night.
   

Reader Comments (3)

If you're gonna die, best to do it AFTER you get your rocks off. So keep lining them all up and knocking them down if you think Fiona is gonna eventually get you. On the other hand, you might be too tired from all that sex to see her coming. Hmmmn. Bit of a dilemma there... aww fuckit. Just keep fucking. There's a reward in there somewhere I'm sure.

July 3, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterWinter

See what I'm saying? But in the end, I agree, "fuckit" is always the best answer...

July 4, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterJason X

Yeah, you really can't argue with an orgasm.

July 4, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterWinter

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