Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Today at work I stepped on a "bug". That term is a euphamism, because that thar varmint was a cock-a-roach. A person in the same room freaked out on my head for stepping on said "bug". "Everybody around here knows not to kill anything around me". She said it in a very snotty way and I didn't like it at ALL. I mean come on, I am the person that has been trapping flies in the house to let them back outside for gawd's sake. But when it comes to lunch rooms and cockroaches? I don't feel like having to hermetically seal my lunch, thank you. Having seen fridges invaded by said icky things, the best policy is to kill on sight. I explained why I did it, and she snarked "That is impossible. This place is constantly being sprayed. I should know, because I sent a petition around asking them to stop the senseless killing". Okay lady, you need to up your dosage a bit. I know what a roach looks like, and I am not talking a smallish doobie. Several boxes had been delivered and were stacked in the corner, it is possible it came from one of them. What is the point of staring a squished insect in the eye and denying it's very existence? "Next time, THINK before you do something" she tossed back at me as she was leaving the room in disgust. I had to stop for a moment and wonder if maybe I was in a parallel universe or something. Later in the day I walked past her desk, and noticed a number of little items on display. Namely those little sleeping critters, kitties and kittens, curled up, about palm sized, and made of FUR. Yes, ladies and gents, she was displaying items on her desk made from the skin of dead animals. Most likely rabbit, but who knows where they came from and what they were really crafted from. Out of shock I blurted "Let me get this straight. I can't stomp a roach in the lunch room, but you have a desk full of dead animal skin? How is that right?". She argued that they were not made from real fur. I begged to differ. She continued to state "No they are not". Apparently, saying something over and over as loud as you can makes it become true in her world. But I could tell as the moments ticked on (as she was petting them and turning them over and looking at them closely) that she was beginning to realize that they WERE made from real fur. I could see it in her eyes. And I know she is the type that just may sit up all night, rocking back and forth and possibly even gagging at the thought of what she had done and feeling very very very guilty. And I am just evil enough that when I picture this, the words "My job is done" pop into my head. Tomorrow I might let her in on the fact that the "beef" listed on her frozen dinners just might be veal. Bwa-ha-ha-haaaaa!