The Roach

There was a deliberate attack on my life today.  It was obviously premeditated, because there is no other way it could have taken place.

So there I was, reaching into my desk drawer to get tea.  The individually wrapped bags still sit in their box, set apart from the pens and the only pencil sharpener in the office.  I began to pick up one of the bags...and saw it. It was small, red, and had tiny demon wings on its back.

I couldn't help it--I squealed, tossed the box so the bug fell out onto the floor, and then began laughing.  Who wouldn't?  It's not like the bug was any bigger than my pinkie nail.

From the room next to me, He Who Shall Not Be Named yelled at us to be quiet.  We hushed.   I went to the kitchen to make my tea and when I returned to my office, I put the mug down and went to see if the bug had escaped from under my desk, making it easier to squish him.  Moving a box from behind my desk, the bug leaped out at me, scaring out another squeal and more laughter.

He Who Shall Not Be Named came to our door and yelled again for us to "shut the f*@# up" because he "has people working here." 


Oh, yes, he's in a grand mood today.  Huzzah.