Larry's Journal

Employee of the Month

You know, I wouldn't prank Jim so much if he didn't make shit so easy.  I also wouldn't do it if he wasn't such a thundercunt.  I loathe him.  I got his ass good today though, let me explain:

7:30 a.m.

Everything went normal with the kids and the bus.  What the fuck, right?  I'm just waiting for disaster to strike.

9:30 a.m.

I've been screwing off for an hour in my office.  I read some funny ass shit on Reddit about a dildo recall and a beached whale with a 10 foot dick.

Jim walks in and it's a gift from heaven.  You see ol' Jimbo titty bags is a go getter.  He's wearing khakis today and has some piss dribbles on his pants.  Obviously, he was in a hurry to piss because he wanted to get back to being a shit cunt and bossing people around.  So he shook in a reckless manner at the urinal.

I'm trying my hardest not to bust a gut when his fat ass is talking about work shit.

"Walter wants everyone to start tracking a few tasks during the day and rating them on how they make them feel and their enjoyment level."

Oh bullshit, Walter is in his office counting down the seconds until he gets to take potential clients to the titty bar.  Those piss dribbles are staring right at my face.  I reach for my phone.

"Sorry, I need to send a message to my wife, it's about the kids."

"No personal stuff at work."

"Sorry it's an emergency."

He's got me pissed with his bullshit assignments and diva attitude.  I am not taking this.

I pull out the phone and pretend to be sending a message.  In reality I'm turning the flash off my camera so I can get a pic of the dribble dots.  It's fucking beautiful.  I use the rule of thirds and everything.  I'm like the Ansel Adams of piss pics.

"Ok, sorry about that.  I'll make sure I get that info to you."

Please get the fuck out of my office, you smell like a fish ridden vagina.

10:30 a.m.

My masterpiece is almost complete.  I've been photoshopping the khaki pic and readying it for a priceless email blast at the hands of Wyatt Johnston.

I've got the image centered on a flyer that reads "EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH" at the top and at the bottom has the tagline "JIM, PISSED THAT HE CAN'T WORK HARDER".

It has all kinds of other pictures forming a collage around it.  One is Jim pointing his finger with a dialogue bubble that reads "synergy" and another that says "teamwork is key" and another that says "Walter said..."

I hit send and then I wait two minutes and hear the laughter building.  Walter sounds like he's giving birth to a polar bear.  Jim is nowhere to be found.

Hah, the rat fuck went to lunch early.  Probably to tell his mom how everyone picks on him.  This shit is spreading quickly throughout the company.

11:00 a.m.

Jim returns to the office and immediately receives a standing ovation.  I have nonchalantly printed the email and posted it in various places around the office.  He is on fire.  Walter personally congratulates him.  Jim is apologizing profusely.  Bet that fucker checks his crotch like a normal person from now on.  If you have the dribbles you dry that shit in the hand warmer or sit in the stall until it's no longer noticeable.  Everyone knows this.

11:45 a.m.

Jim walks into my office acting like we're buddies.

"Hey, what can you tell me about Wyatt Johnston?"

Other than he's made up and hilarious?

"Never talked to him, couldn't tell you.  Congratulations by the way, you get a bonus or anything?"

He's turning tomato red.

"No I didn't get a bonus.  That was fake!"

"Those stains looked pretty real to me buddy, keep up the hard work."

I'm about to piss all over the floor I want to laugh so bad.

"Well, if you know anyone who knows him, tell them I'm looking for him."

"Ok Miles Davis," I whisper.

"What's that?"

"I said will do sir.  Did we get Cherry Coke in the soda fountain?  I'm thirsty."

He storms out in a fit of rage, god damn sleaze bucket.

2:00 p.m.

I return to the office from my usual two hour lunch that goes unquestioned every day.  Susan is still off work on disability so she's blowing up my god damn phone with chores I need to do.  Stupid cunt.  She hurt herself at work a week or so ago.

She says she fell.  It's common knowledge she was banging a coworker in the closet and had a mishap.  She's now milking it for all it's worth, not that I can blame her.  But she doesn't go out of town anymore so I never escape her.  I need to take Kaley to ballet.  Fine, I'm hitting the bar anyway and it won't interfere with that.

3:30 p.m.

I've been reading online about time travel paradoxes for the last hour.  It's interesting shit.  There's this one called the grandfather paradox that blew my mind.  Like what if you went back in time and murdered your grandpa, it would ripple back through time and erase you, but then you wouldn't be able to go back in time to kill your grandpa.

I wish I could kill Jim's whole family tree, greatest paradox ever.  It would be a gift to the world if you ask me.

Jane walks in.

"Jesus, did you see that picture?  I can't stop laughing."

"Yeah, ol' Jim is pretty pissed off."

I chuckle at my clever world play.

"I can't believe that Wyatt guy, and someone hung the pics everywhere, hilarious."

I sit back and admire my handiwork.  Jane leaves.  She has work to do.  Me too, counting down to happy hour.

4:30 p.m.

I'm sitting at the bar and Susan won't quit fucking up "me time".  I'm Googling how to submit a photo to those meme sites.  Jim is going viral across the world.  I'm on a mission.  Susan finally calls, god damn it.  I have to cut bar time 15 minutes short, ruined the whole day.  Oh well, Jim got made my bitch.  I'll take it.

Larry