A Tale of Boredom
Check the emails section in the “stories” tab to give you a background on why you’re reading these emails.
| From: | ---- (--------------@hotmail.com) |
| Sent: | June 29, 2009 4:37:21 PM |
| To: | The Real Deal |
Sitting at my computer desk, browsing the internet like an assassin, undetected by all who walk past, I fall upon a Red Light District website in Amsterdam. Curiosity becomes my ally as I plunge into the seedy information and pirated pictures of the legendary district. I furiously search the site, trying to absorb all the lewdness without being bothered by halfwit customers and some of my defective coworkers.
As I pillage the site, I feel a presence behind me. To my horror it's -------, the inbred manager, who somehow went past my cunning Ninja sense and lumbered her overweight self right to the back of my chair. The air filled with fat as my body temperature rose to an alarming rate, thanks to her planet like size. In broken English she clumsily asked me what I am doing. I turn to her, slowly, trying desperately to think of something witty to save my ass. Before I have time to blurt out some kind of half assed excuse, she says what I am looking for can be found in the Special Order catalogue.
I paused for what seemed like an eternity before thinking about questioning her mental health. "Are you fucking retarded?" was what I was trying to muster the courage to say but instead, I thanked her for the advice and watched this horrifying hippopotamus lumber down the aisle to ruin someone else's day.
These are pretty much my days at work...surfing the net and battling stupidity.