So Much For A Little Fun

This mentality is more prevalent that you think.

Today's bark was going to be about the creature from hell that has invaded/reinvaded my office.  A turn of events has made that bark take a back seat.  The creature from hell does factor into today's bark, which is now going to be a two-parter.  The next part will be a prequel of sorts to today's episode. 

First, the cast of characters.  There's me, my sidekick and partner in crime, the creature from hell, and the brain-damaged fundy.  The creature from hell will be referred to as Bob - short for Bitter Old Bitch.  Bob was the receptionist at my firm when I went to work there 14 years ago.  She's been gone for 10 years, and she's back doing some part-time clerical work for one of the guys in the building.  She a fundy, nosey, bossy, bitchy, bitter, has a nasaly voice that sounds like a chicken squawking.  Brain-damaged fundy will factor in later.

A wheel on my chair needed to be oiled and was making a particularly obnoxious noise if I rolled around too fast.  I was getting up from my desk and the wheel squawled.  Bob's office is down the hall from mine, and she started squawking, "what was that?  What was that?"  Her voice is like the sound of someone scratching their nails down a chalkboard at a farting contest.  Gilbert Gottfried!  That's it!  She sounds like Gilbert Gottfried.  She kept squawking "what was that" for several minutes until I yelled out "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, IT'S MY CHAIR."  She squawked out something that I chose to ignore (probably complaining because I say fuck a lot) and I went about my business. 

Later that afternoon, I tell Partner in Crime about it.  I was still annoyed.  I told Partner in Crime that I was half tempted to go stand outside Bob's office and rip a loud one and let her squawk what was that about it.  Partner in Crime gets an evil look on her face, holds up three fingers and whispers in a scary movie voice:  "Three days.  You die."  I laughed until I about pissed myself.  That got Partner in Crime laughing.  About the time we'd quit, one of us would start laughing again, and so it went for the rest of the day.  We decided it's like The Ring, only it's The Fart, and instead of seven days, we only give you three.  We're bitches like that and we like it that way.

The next morning, I walk in and devilishly whisper "two days."  The giggling starts.  Then we decide we want to make a you tube of our juvenile shenanigans.  The Fart comes from the chicken-chokin' Wanker Monkey with a devil's moustache and tail. 

Chicken Chokin' Wanker Monkey

If you hear chicken-chokin' Wanker Monkey rip one, you die in three days.  This was a Friday and the adult supervision (aka the bosses) gone, so we spent the day fucking off on Facebook with Wanker Monkeyshines.  Two grown women who are rather girly spending the day making juvenile fart jokes about a Wanker Monkey who kills off an old biddy with evil, supernatural farts and putting it all on Facebook for others to laugh at, too.  Happy times.

Well, we thought happy times until someone sends Partner in Crime a private message.  The message nattered on that he didn't want to say anything at first, but we're uplifting Satan and there's no innocent fun involved if we're uplifting Satan.  He then went on about skydaddy would do something bad to Partner's child if she continued to uplift Satan.  Yeah, he used that "uplift Satan" language a lot.  Partner in Crime got pissed at the fundy, deleted all of the posts from her wall, and the good mood was gone.  Fundy is a parental unit for Partner in Crime, so that accounts for her fun being ruined.

I held my tongue.  No benefit would have come from talking smack about Partner's parent at that moment.  She was already hurt enough.  However, I was pissed.  I wanted to choke Fucktard and scream at him.  We cannot uplift that which does not exist.  It blows my mind that some people out there are so fucked up about kissing skydaddy's ass that they have tunnel vision.  Chicken chokin' Wanker Monkey with a devil's moustache and tail is somehow "uplifting Satan."  What the fuck ever.  If Satan existed, he'd be laughing his red ass off at our shenanigans.  Then, there's the whole business of skydaddy doing something to Partner's child because he's pissed at Partner.  Who would want to worship a bastard like that?  You've uplifted my enemy, so I'll kill your child.  Fucker. 

I felt really bad for Partner in Crime.  We'd been having fun all day long - a well deserved Fuckoff Friday.  Then she gets that message from parental unit.  To see how it upset her that he acted like that upset me.  It has to suck to have a parent that ate up with skydaddy syndrome.  There is no innocent fun, just kiss skydaddy's ass.  Never mind the fact that she's a grown woman, it's still a tragedy to see a parent shoving their fears and superstitions down their child's throat.  He wrote in his message:  "Think about your child.  Do you want any harm to come to her because you're uplifting Satan?" 

How about this, Fundy Fucktard.  Think about YOUR child.  Do you want any harm to come to her because you're a tunnel-visioned, superstitious asshat?  Never mind.  Don't answer that.  Your actions already have.   

Next bark:  The Story of Bob