05/23/01

“It’s “Bring your daughter to work day” and the Wacky Office Prankster is getting his ass laid!”

Or at least that’s what I thought, as today began.

“I never knew there would be a plus to working with so many annoying, fat, middle aged housefraus, but today,” I thought to myself, “there may finally be some retribution.”

Every day, I sit and listen to these douchebags all day long, blabbing about their stupid lives and their dopey husbands and their near-retarded children. It’s almost too much to take. There’s one woman who is particularly bad, who we’ll call “Douchebag #1″. She’s constantly telling “cute” stories about something her kids did to anyone who will listen. She’s got twins, one boy, one girl, both freshmen in high school. I think their names are like Elmer and Sissy, or something.

“Oh, I gotta tell you. Elmer and Sissy did the funniest thing this weekend. You see, their prom was this weekend, and they didn’t want to go. So, they got together a bunch of other kids who weren’t going and they had an anti-prom! Oh, it was so funny. I let them have it at the house, because all the kids know I’m the cool mom because I let them do coke. . .” or something like that. It’s endless.

Understand that I have taken some small measures of revenge against Douchebag #1, like discretely placing bumper stickers on her mini-van that say, “I take it up the ass!” and “I like to suck black cocks”. These were very well received by the other soccer moms, as she sped young Elmer to practice. She would never notice them, because she always backs that fucking mini-van into her spot. (You know the type.) These acts have been satisfying, but never totally satisfying. I needed more.

Then one day, a couple of weeks ago, Douchebag #1 called me into her office. I’d never been in there before, and she seemed pretty nervous about having me there. She started rambling on about some task she wanted me to perform, but I was too busy surveying the place to listen. She had all these fucking plaques on the wall that said gay things like, “Is it Friday yet?” I also noticed that anything in her office that wasn’t a plaque was knitted. I think she had actually knitted her desk. As I was scanning around the office, I came across a framed picture. I interrupted her.

“Are these your kids?”

“Uh, yeah. . .that’s them at Halloween.”

She seemed extremely nervous at this point. I grabbed the picture and was inspecting it closely. They were dressed up as a cat and mouse, and Sissy, the girl, was the cat. I couldn’t believe how adorable this little kitten was. After hearing about her all this time, I’d never actually seen her until then. And, since her mother is so disgusting, I never thought that she could be beautiful, but she was.

I have a weird cat thing, too. Maybe it dates back to the fact that I was physically attracted to Courageous Cat from the Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse cartoons. Now, I have defended myself many times on this topic, and I don’t care what anyone says. That is not gay. Courageous Cat was much more feminine than masculine, and you know what? Fuck it. He was a piece of ass.

Anyway, I asked to be excused, and took the picture with me to the bathroom. I proceeded to do horrible, horrible things with it.

Later that week, I was flipping through my calendar, and noticed that “Bring Your Daughter To Work Day” was coming up. It was on. I went though a rigorous training regimen for the next few weeks, which consisted of exhausting enemas, application of self tanning creams, and lots and lots of masturbating. This was all done while “Eye Of The Tiger” blasted on my stereo. I would be ready for Sissy The Cat Girl.

When today finally came, I had a rush of thoughts flowing though my head. I wondered if this would be the ultimate revenge, after all. I knew I would charm her, and ultimately pummel her into erotic ecstacy, but then she would, no doubt, fall in love with me. I wasn’t sure if that was what I wanted. I mean, she didn’t even drive a cool, cat-shaped car. Actually, I don’t even think she drove at all. Plus, if we became a couple, I’d have to do all the usual boring couple things and I’d have to see Douchebag #1 all the time and we’d probably have to hang out at her house (which was probably knitted) and before you know it we’d be married and I’d be backing my fucking mini-van into my parking spot. I was very confused. I spent the morning pacing back and forth in front of Douchebag #1′s office, but she didn’t show right away, so I went back to my office and took a nap.

I was awakened by the sound of that douchey cackle, so I jumped to my feet, put my pants on and ran out of my office. There she was. It was Sissy The Cat Girl, and Elmer was with her. They were in Douchebag #1′s office, and a bunch of other housewives were in there oohing and ahhing over Elmer’s soccer camp stories. I stood and stared.

I began to drink her in, but then noticed that a few things were very wrong. First of all, she wasn’t even wearing the cat outfit. Then, seeing her next to Douchebag #1 really drove home the fact that she was related to her. They even had a similar douchey cackle. As I was absorbing all of this, I heard someone yell, “That’s him!”

The next few moments are kind of a blur, but I think what happened was that Elmer furiously and thouroughly kicked my ass. I fell on the ground, and he was stomping me as the other housewives cheered him on. Now, it hurt to get beaten to a bloody pulp by a fifteen year old boy, but the thing that hurt the most was that Sissy was kicking me too. I mean, despite my fear of commitment, we did have something. For her to do this to me? It’s changed me, people.

You have witnessed the last romantic moment in the life of the Wacky Office Prankster. Never will I love again. I will cherish the feeling of Sissy The Cat Girl’s sweet, perfumed, sandaled feet repeatedly crushing my throat, but never will I love again.