Saturday — 22 Ramazan 1425 — 15 Kartika 1926 — …

Saturday — 22 Ramazan 1425 — 15 Kartika 1926 — 06 November 2004

So, it’s a normal day at the office. I am working. I am going to my bosses office every half hour. He is telling me that there are at least as many mistakes as sentences in what I have written. It is all going very well. Better than my three-mistakes-per-sentence days.

Then we have tea. We are all drinking tea and having fun. Suddenly another guy from a different department pops into our office and casts a spell on my boss. I can see that my boss has lost all control over his senses and is in the guy’s control.

Then, under that influence he ends up saying that the-guy-from-the-other-department is the best writer he has ever seen. At this I rise up and declare “Die! Infidel Scum!” and chop his head off with my sword.

Actually, that is what I would have wanted that to be. In reality I just sat there with a completely artificial smile while desiring to spill the tea on that guys lap and kick his ass all the way out of the office.

That did not happen. Instead, I just poked two red hot pokers into my brain through my nose and died a horrible horrible death.

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