Tuesday morning in the office, it’s a miserable morning. I am still hung over and there is only fifteen minutes until noon. Why did I do shots last night with Rene, why did I drink those car bombs? Why is there a “Candy Was Here” written on my chest with what I suspect is a sharpie marker? I can’t be sure because I haven’t taken a shower yet. That’s disgusting you say. I say fuck you, based on my last text message threatening Rene with bodily harm if he tells my girlfriend the truth, I think I got about two hours of sleep. It’s been that kind of day.

The coffee I was so sure would make everything better, burnt me like I wronged it. Who is to say I didn’t, last night is really fuzzy. The last clear memory I have is leaving my buddies house to get more beer. I really hope I am not a favorite on YouTube again.

Here is the thing you need to understand about Rene. His mother is a very sweet and loving woman, however she mated with the devil and produced offspring that is more imp than man and named him Rene. He is my best friend and the reason God is laughing at my misery today. I hate that bastard.

I am sitting at my desk and the asshole next to me is droning on about golf clubs and his dogs. Normally Stan is a pretty good guy, however today he is the enemy. I try to politely nod and offer the occasional grunt to show that as a member of the same species I recognize his right to breath. I like to think my occasional UHHG and ERRRR get my point across is sufficient.

Evidently I ERRR’ed when I should have UHHG’ed, because Stan returns to his desk with an air of fuck you buddy. This is the least of my worries though. My stomach has decided it wants to mate with a fucking brontosaurus, and begins making mating calls that have not been heard since before the meteor sent those fuckers back lizard hell. Translation I’m gonna puke. I run to the bathroom and make it there just in time to ruin my tie and scare the hell out of the new guy. Stupid fucking coffee, and cheese puffs I had for breakfast. Please tell me I am not in hell and that God does indeed love me.

It's almost lunchtime, I made it despite all of nature’s attempts otherwise. I feel a little better knowing I will be able to get a little bit of sleep in my car. I hear angels singing ever so softly. All I have to do is punch out and walk out the door. All I have to do is walk past the manager’s office. Any other day this would not be like Frodo walking through Mordor. Unfortunately Sauron is in her office with The Lackeys, Loudmouth, Fat Ass, and The Goat. If I walk past her with my head up smiling and farting rainbows, she won’t smell weakness and attack me like a shark feeding on a wounded baby seal.

I make it halfway past her door before she notices me not wearing a tie, my eyes bloodshot and my miss matched shoes. Shit how am I going to run in these? I am doomed, goodbye cruel world. Tell my girlfriend I love her. Fuck you Rene.

Her voice is nasally as it cuts through me like Jason does to horny teenagers. “Eric, can you come into my office?”

I can feel the disgust in her voice, I can see The Lackeys smirking. Her office is tastefully decorated. I thought it would be more like Vlad the Impaler's dungeon. I really have to quit being so judgmental. I bet she is into bondage. Not hardcore gimp suit, just some light paddling and stepping on your balls in her heels.

If she wasn’t so evil and her voice so annoying I might actually think she was attractive in a plain sort of way. Brown hair, brown eyes, nice cleavage, but no ass to speak of. The kind of girl you would fuck and never call back. I bet that’s why she hates me. Some guy who looks like me gave her some great pillow talk and never called back. I hate him as much as I hate Rene. I wish I could tell her I would never do that to a woman. I am a gentle soul totally enthralled by a woman’s spirituality and her intelligence. I don’t care about what my friends think or how she trims her bush. Unfortunately I am in her lair, there is no escape, and no quarter will be given.

She starts the conversation with “Just what the hell do you think you are doing looking like that?

I try to explain myself, but she cuts me off.

“This is a professional environment, or haven’t you noticed”.

I try to explain I had noticed, but she cuts me off again.

"Are you going to explain yourself or just stand there?

And suddenly I was fed up. This is total bullshit, I am hungover, I smell like vomit, there is permanent marker on my chest that I will have to explain to my girlfriend, and on top of everything I was pretty sure I left my credit card at the strip club. So much for plausible deniability.

"LOOK HERE MOTHERFUCKER!" And I stopped right there. Oh shit Oh shit, shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck.

Everyone’s jaw is on the floor, including mine. She is staring at me like Mike Tyson did to the little bitches in the ring with him for all those fights before he bit that dude's ear off.

I blurt out “My Grandmother died this morning, I can’t handle this right now”.

Now everything changes, I touched a nerve, suddenly she says to me in the soft and gentle voice of Fran Drescher, “Eric what are you even doing at work today? Go home and be with your family”.

I look around the room at the Lackeys. Fat ass and Loudmouth have nothing but kindness in their eyes just like Sauron. The Goat's has what looks like admiration in his old eyes. Silently he says well played sir. Well played. I may have been wrong about him. Maybe he understands what it’s like to be taken advantage of by a stripper named Candy. Does he have a Rene? So many questions I need answers too. Before I can get these answers to my questions, a familiar feeling returns. I guess my stomach still needs a good rogering. I run out of the office and this time I make it to my destination before I puked on the car next to mine. Take that Stan.