Cubicle Wars
Oh crap! Some dorky new intern has moved into the cubicle next to mine at work. He has a full view of my computer monitor and knows I’m surfing the internet all day instead of working. The little creep will probably rat on me to the boss before the day is out. I need to get rid of him. But how?
Hot Lunch: Instead of my usual bland sandwiches, I am going to start eating bean and jalapeno tacos, fiery samosas and raw herrings. I can use my desk fan to waft the eye-watering aroma straight towards the little twerp. And the effects of all this spicy food on my digestive system will be a bonus. This tactic worked well for my old apartment neighbours who would leave a pot of cabbage curry bubbling on the stove all day. Bastards.
My Friend Ratty: I must let my cubicle enemy know about the office rat. Watch out intern, he’s a vicious little bugger! I’ve seen him pissing on your keyboard once or twice (doesn’t rat piss make you go blind?) And then I shall clumsily drop taco crumbs all over the floor. Maybe I should invest in a real rat.
It’s Raining Spikes: Oh, I’m so clumsy! I’m always tripping over while carrying huge open boxes full of drawing pins. And that towering stack of paper leaning against the cubicle wall – whoops, there it falls! Sorry intern, are you all right under there? I hope I don’t stumble as I carry this large mug of boiling coffee.
Ghost In the Machine: Hey intern, I heard your cubicle is haunted! The last guy who worked there was always complaining about flickering screens, catastrophic data losses and strange voices coming from the speakers. The IT department couldn’t work it out. Strange how the cops have never found that guy’s body…
I don’t know anything about hacking computers or causing electro-magnetic interference, but I’m sure I can inflict some damage with a screwdriver, a handful of drawing pins and a cup of rat piss.
Noisy Neighbour: There’s nothing more annoying than a stream of irritating noises coming from your cubicle neighbour. Maybe I should develop a hacking smoker’s cough, or a severe case of Tourette’s? Or maybe a more sinister noise like a creepy satanic chant? My weedy co-worker would flee in no time. Now, how does that Jihadi suicide attack prayer go?
My office now is a mess of sharp tacks, rotting herrings and rat piss. And the smarmy little fucker is still hard at work, oblivious to my spills, traps and random profane outbursts.
I quit!
