For @mariannewest/day-1067-5-minute-freewrite-tuesday-prompt-working-hard
“Working hard or hardly working?” asked Nigel as he had a cuppa and glanced at me in my cubicle.
“Working hard, Nigel. I really wish you’d stop interrupting me, though.”
“WHOA. WHAOOA, nelly. Take a chill pill you rascal, or I will put you through hell.” Nigel always said the most awful things in the most awkward ways. It was one of the reasons I hated working for him. Another reason was that he smelled awful. I think it was the smell of some strain of marijuana that had no pleasantness and only awfulness.
I was angry and sad and sickened and frustrated. I just wanted to be left alone, but even when he was leaving me alone, that stench thickened the air, gagged me, made me want to douse him with my own cuppa, then spin him in a thick, syrupy sauce until his insides dissolved into his outsides and we could pour him down a sewer grate.
These disturbing thoughts disturbed me. The disturbed the bejeezus out of me.
I should probably have quit when I realized I was having them.
But I didn’t, because quitting would have meant talking to Nigel again. And I didn’t want to talk to Nigel.
