boss gets a dollar n i get a dime so i suck his dick on company time

nnggh kane do u like it

Another wretched morning, he woke, drenched in a cold, guilty sweat. With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself from the bed, his weary limbs protesting each step as he read the 4:00 on his phone's clock. Another wretched morning, he paced his apartment, grappling with that familiar tinge of nauseating dread. He'd check his phone, groaning at some posts he'd scroll through mindlessly. Every post, every annoyed rant, every time he'd see rich people complaining how unfair their life is... it all fell on Norton's deaf ears. Why would he bother wasting time on their misery? He had enough of it himself. With that thought, he stepped outside for a smoke.

The only solace he allowed himself from the suffocating weight of bitterness was scrolling through posts complaining about work. Shit, could he relate to that. With each drag of his cigarette, he nursed fantasies of his pristine boss meeting a swift and well-deserved demise, perhaps at his own fists. He'd scroll through, the glow of his screen illuminating the grim satisfaction that twisted his features. Yeah, it was likely all fabricated stories or embellishments of the truth, but he felt a sense of vigilantism, standing as a soldier against the oppression of his proletariat fellows. Right, not just a keyboard warrior with minimal knowledge of economics.

With each tale of corporate cruelty, Norton's resentment boiled over, his fingers trembling with the urge to lash out against the tyrant who held him captive in this soul-sucking job. Oh, how he longed to see that despicable excuse for a human being brought low, to watch him suffer. He'd envision stomping his face into the curb, or sending him reeling with a strong punch, or perhaps attaining his bank account information and running him broke. But for now, all Norton could do was take another drag of his cigarette and silently curse the fact he was about to spend the day with the embodiment of his daily torment.

It was another pissy morning. The sun was hardly visible through the rain clouds polluting the sky, much to Norton's annoyance. His car, as old and shitty as it was, tried its best to make it through the puddles and dead animals lining these windy backroads. He felt particular jealousy towards the most maimed of the bunch, or envisioned the rusted blood decorating the pavement as belonging to another. His radio's quality was probably worse than his phone's, yet his music still poured through those speakers at a volume criminally high for this hour. He sighed as the ding of a "check gasoline level" alert came through his dash. He had no time to grab gas anyway, so what good did the reminder do? What good is a sign when you ignore it?

Under his breath, Norton cursed his car. He'd complain of the smell of burnt rubber that seemed to be eternally plaguing him, the shitty radio that had started glitching yet again, and the rumble-squeak that it let out every time he pressed the breaks. The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting long shadows across the landscape. His headlights, at least, were doing their job. Despite the early hour, he could see just enough to dodge those suicidal raccoons. It was a good reminder that he was yielding a very deadly machine, yet he was very much alive in the steering wheel. Maybe it wasn't fair, that those poor wild animals had no clue what would happen when they scurried onto the street. However, life has a funny way of thrusting you into pain you had no ability to comprehend before experiencing.

He despised this daily routine, this obligatory pilgrimage to a place he loathed. But something compelling, something irresistible drew him here each morning, even before the office lights flickered to life. Despite his best efforts to deny his excitement and participation in this daily routine, Norton was all too eager to wake up so early for a mere enemy.

As Norton pulled into the towering building's parking lot, his stomach churned with a familiar mixture of dread and longing.

Orpheus, the epitome of everything Norton detested, awaited him inside. The very thought of seeing his smug face, adorned with an overly expensive monocle that he'd wish he could crush, that was enough to emit a growl from Norton. Still, he found himself roaming the parking lot in the dark, looking for the familiar white car that he'd never afford. It wouldn't take long to identify it, right in the manager's spot in front of the door. Wouldn't it be unsafe to put such a tyrant's car in the most identifiable spot? He'd ask his question on Reddit soon, after he'd finished his task at hand.