Post by larissamurderface on Feb 1, 2009 4:26:53 GMT -5
-Don't mock me, stapler kingdom, I said while poking at the king of the staplers. I had those fake googley eyes set on him so that he could have a face. It's creepy talking to something with no face. I upturned my nose and got a whif of what the guy in the cubicle next to me was having. Chicken Soup. It was heavenly, but he would't share because he thought I was creepy, like the things without faces I was talking about earlier. So what, I made all of my office supplies some sort of heirarchy in my cubicle. I was like their God, giving them faces and staples and tape rolls and whatever the hell else they needed that was office supply related. I actually just stole a bunch of it from the guy in the cubicle next to me, but that's a different point. He thinks I'm weird because I constantly talking with my shoulder angel and my shoulder devil. I haven't named them yet, which is sad, but oh well. The first time I met the guy in the cubicle next to me, I had an argument with my shoulder angel and shoulder devil about stealing his tie. I really liked this tie; it was a stripey blue and pink tie with little hearts on it. I thought he was gay, and this is where our argument started. The devil didn't think he was gay, he thought the guy in the cubicle next to me just had a girly fashion. My angel thought he was gay and I sided with her. Well, to make this shorter, I was insulting him without letting him in on the whole situation, and when I did let him in on everythang, he just looked at me and wondered what I was doing in this office.
I wonder the same thing. I had a cool job once as a wrestler. Dude, I was awesome, wrestling in a place called TSWL. It closed down and I've been inactive since. I went to a place called UPW, but it sucked. They never placed me on a card or anything, so I was like -Psh. Fuckkk this nigguh. And I left. Now I work for some company in Phoenix, for like, advertising or something. Which explains my cubicle. I actually just do a lot of paper-work for their taxes and money situation right now, since America is going down in the shits again. People need to stop buying fucking houses, fer sher. -Miss Taylor, for the last time, the copy machine is not a sasquatch to your office supplies, so stop filling it with gas fluid and leaving a lighter nearby, my boss said while I choked down some of my strawberry Poptart. I look at him like he's an alienated species, because that's how my small little kingdom of office supplies would see it. Basically, I looked like a retarted squirrel who's been caught stealing your nuts. And I don't mean the nuts that are in the nut catagory. Get my drift? He rolled his eyes at me and walked away, complimenting the guy in the cubicle next to me as he departed. Once again he had called me 'Miss Taylor,' when my name is in fact 'Tyler.' Some people man. I shake my head in disproval and notice that my office supplies are in a quarrel. -ZOHMYGAWD! The Pen Army CANNOT be attacking the Construction Paper Dynasty without crossing the GOD DAMNED OCEAN FIRST! I said this in a frenzy, and quickly moved the pen away from the paper. Office supplies have no grasp of like, the world and stuff.
Very ninja like, I went back to the copy machine and spritzed some hairspray on it. Normally, this was used on my hair since it's like, hairspray, but today it had to replace the gas stuff I used before. I didn't think that my boss would sniff it out last time. The King of Staples confided a secret to me: the copy machine was out to destroy their culture. And copy machine's are very big compared to staples, so I have to get rid of this copy machine. I left a lighter around every time hoping someone would get curious and start the lighter, resulting in a huge explosion. It worked in my blueprints all the time, but never in reality. -Better not do that, Airica. I turn around and look at him, the guy from the cubicle next to mine. -Mind your beeswax, Tom, I'm on a top secret mission. He was holding a cup of coffee, sipping it about every 3 seconds. I crossed my arms at him and heard the buzzing of the office; phones ringing, stupid conversations about peanut butter, keyboards clicking and staplers trying to apply the concept of the sociological paradigm, Positivism, to their staple-people. I try to ignore all of this and realize Tom has been talking to me for the past 2 minutes. -...And that's how I got employee of the month. My shoulder devil pops up. -Yeah, I bet that's how he got butt-fucked too. My shoulder angle pops up and shakes her head. Tsk Tsk.
-Chyeah, and I bet that's how you got butt-fucked too! Only, I don't say that. -Uh. Radical, I say, and pass his figure in the doorframe and head back to my cubicle. My little clusters of office supplies are plotting a war, I find out as I arrive in my comfy twirly chair. I sigh. As God, I must fix it before the Apocalypse. -Who spilled coffee here? Tom asks while holding his coffee mug and staring at the spill. He was referring to the spill in front of my cubicle. -THE BARBARIANS CANNOT PASS MY ALMIGHT MOAT MWUAHAH! I laugh like a madwoman, grabbing a few pens and chucking them at my cubicle entrance. -Pen Army, ATTACK! The construction paper gets jealous and gives me a papercut
I start to write down office supplies in my heirarchy that need to be offed, since they think they are more powerful than me. I'm in the middle of doing this when I hear a huge explosion. At the exact same moment, the fax machine I have connected to my telly starts printing out a paper. Everyone starts freaking out and I run out of my cubicle, careful to avoid my moat when I see the cause of it all. The copymachine. -Uhhhh. Shit. Oh. I mean...Beep. Sorry, I have to stop saying bad things or my shoulder angel will tell all of her friends about the time I poked my nose and tried to feed the booger to a dog. And shiz. Yeah. With a Z.
-You do realize you have to pay for this copy machine, right Miss Taylor? My boss asked. We are in his office. By now, my Paperclip Clan invaded the Pencil Colonies in the Staple Kingdom. I was missing out on some important events. -Juh?
-You will also be fired. Do you understand?
-Capice, I say, hoping to confuse him. It's Italian for 'understand. And bitch, yes it is spelled right, go translate it. -Go pack your things, Miss Taylor, and get the hell out of my building! I stand up. -It's TYLER. T-Y-L-E-R. Get it straight, trick. With that, I leave the office and go to my heirarchy. I was right. Paperclips were all over Pencils, doing some sort of weird metal form of karate. It is just a mess. And the Staplers decided to staple the Paper People, and now they were profusely bleeding in white-out form. I sigh again and smack my forehead. And then I notice the fax I got earlier. I picked it off of the machine while the Tape Patriots stuck it the Eraser things. HAHAHA. Get it? STUCK it to them?! Ah whatever, you suck. I read the fax.
Airica Tyler,
This is a formal welcome to our newly opened federation, Anarchy Wrestling Coalition. We understand that you have previous wrestling exprience and we have accepted your contract. We have the best of the best here at AWC--
And then he began listing some people that I don't know. I smile and pack the only office supply I like.
Mr. Stapler King.
You know. With the googley eyes? We were bound to do great things together in this new industry. Even though I don't know how my application got submitted in the first place.
I wonder the same thing. I had a cool job once as a wrestler. Dude, I was awesome, wrestling in a place called TSWL. It closed down and I've been inactive since. I went to a place called UPW, but it sucked. They never placed me on a card or anything, so I was like -Psh. Fuckkk this nigguh. And I left. Now I work for some company in Phoenix, for like, advertising or something. Which explains my cubicle. I actually just do a lot of paper-work for their taxes and money situation right now, since America is going down in the shits again. People need to stop buying fucking houses, fer sher. -Miss Taylor, for the last time, the copy machine is not a sasquatch to your office supplies, so stop filling it with gas fluid and leaving a lighter nearby, my boss said while I choked down some of my strawberry Poptart. I look at him like he's an alienated species, because that's how my small little kingdom of office supplies would see it. Basically, I looked like a retarted squirrel who's been caught stealing your nuts. And I don't mean the nuts that are in the nut catagory. Get my drift? He rolled his eyes at me and walked away, complimenting the guy in the cubicle next to me as he departed. Once again he had called me 'Miss Taylor,' when my name is in fact 'Tyler.' Some people man. I shake my head in disproval and notice that my office supplies are in a quarrel. -ZOHMYGAWD! The Pen Army CANNOT be attacking the Construction Paper Dynasty without crossing the GOD DAMNED OCEAN FIRST! I said this in a frenzy, and quickly moved the pen away from the paper. Office supplies have no grasp of like, the world and stuff.
Very ninja like, I went back to the copy machine and spritzed some hairspray on it. Normally, this was used on my hair since it's like, hairspray, but today it had to replace the gas stuff I used before. I didn't think that my boss would sniff it out last time. The King of Staples confided a secret to me: the copy machine was out to destroy their culture. And copy machine's are very big compared to staples, so I have to get rid of this copy machine. I left a lighter around every time hoping someone would get curious and start the lighter, resulting in a huge explosion. It worked in my blueprints all the time, but never in reality. -Better not do that, Airica. I turn around and look at him, the guy from the cubicle next to mine. -Mind your beeswax, Tom, I'm on a top secret mission. He was holding a cup of coffee, sipping it about every 3 seconds. I crossed my arms at him and heard the buzzing of the office; phones ringing, stupid conversations about peanut butter, keyboards clicking and staplers trying to apply the concept of the sociological paradigm, Positivism, to their staple-people. I try to ignore all of this and realize Tom has been talking to me for the past 2 minutes. -...And that's how I got employee of the month. My shoulder devil pops up. -Yeah, I bet that's how he got butt-fucked too. My shoulder angle pops up and shakes her head. Tsk Tsk.
-Chyeah, and I bet that's how you got butt-fucked too! Only, I don't say that. -Uh. Radical, I say, and pass his figure in the doorframe and head back to my cubicle. My little clusters of office supplies are plotting a war, I find out as I arrive in my comfy twirly chair. I sigh. As God, I must fix it before the Apocalypse. -Who spilled coffee here? Tom asks while holding his coffee mug and staring at the spill. He was referring to the spill in front of my cubicle. -THE BARBARIANS CANNOT PASS MY ALMIGHT MOAT MWUAHAH! I laugh like a madwoman, grabbing a few pens and chucking them at my cubicle entrance. -Pen Army, ATTACK! The construction paper gets jealous and gives me a papercut
I start to write down office supplies in my heirarchy that need to be offed, since they think they are more powerful than me. I'm in the middle of doing this when I hear a huge explosion. At the exact same moment, the fax machine I have connected to my telly starts printing out a paper. Everyone starts freaking out and I run out of my cubicle, careful to avoid my moat when I see the cause of it all. The copymachine. -Uhhhh. Shit. Oh. I mean...Beep. Sorry, I have to stop saying bad things or my shoulder angel will tell all of her friends about the time I poked my nose and tried to feed the booger to a dog. And shiz. Yeah. With a Z.-You do realize you have to pay for this copy machine, right Miss Taylor? My boss asked. We are in his office. By now, my Paperclip Clan invaded the Pencil Colonies in the Staple Kingdom. I was missing out on some important events. -Juh?
-You will also be fired. Do you understand?
-Capice, I say, hoping to confuse him. It's Italian for 'understand. And bitch, yes it is spelled right, go translate it. -Go pack your things, Miss Taylor, and get the hell out of my building! I stand up. -It's TYLER. T-Y-L-E-R. Get it straight, trick. With that, I leave the office and go to my heirarchy. I was right. Paperclips were all over Pencils, doing some sort of weird metal form of karate. It is just a mess. And the Staplers decided to staple the Paper People, and now they were profusely bleeding in white-out form. I sigh again and smack my forehead. And then I notice the fax I got earlier. I picked it off of the machine while the Tape Patriots stuck it the Eraser things. HAHAHA. Get it? STUCK it to them?! Ah whatever, you suck. I read the fax.
Airica Tyler,
This is a formal welcome to our newly opened federation, Anarchy Wrestling Coalition. We understand that you have previous wrestling exprience and we have accepted your contract. We have the best of the best here at AWC--
And then he began listing some people that I don't know. I smile and pack the only office supply I like.
Mr. Stapler King.
You know. With the googley eyes? We were bound to do great things together in this new industry. Even though I don't know how my application got submitted in the first place.