Suddenly Osiris realized that up until that infinite moment he had been entranced deep within a daydream. Reality was going to be much worse.
The office was animated this morning – Loony Ham, VP of Not Very Much was bouncing around like a pin-ball stuttering commands while her face contorted and leapt around like a bag of frogs being electrocuted.
Suddenly she screams, her hands thrown up into the air as she loses all control in an ecstasy of pleasure – the XML message had successfully posted to the database. “Wow!!” she says in total amazement that it had actually worked and confused as to why it had. She screams into the DBA’s ear “Only 400 more message errors to correct!” Her body shivers in anticipation while her face drops into an agony of depression punctuated by a nervous laugh. Her hands shake the papers they hold as if to force an answer out of them – but they only respond by trashing around.
The noise of her falling apart does not go unnoticed by the DBA, Mr.Chang-Bar sitting in front of her – his eyes narrow and move imperceptibly as the glowing monitor spews out the result set of his latest SQL script, he turns ever so slightly and his dead stare takes a moment off from the screen to penetrate, like a cold knife into Loony Ham’s being. “What the fuck was she doing, if only he could grab that stupid neck and throttle the life out of this nitwit – maybe he would get some peace. After 60 hours in front of this fucking screen he would love to slice those eyelids off and watch her eyes dry out – oh what a pleasure that would be – instead he announces to her that the stored procedure would have to be changed again to insert a table join to allow the carrier view of associated equipment to work properly.
For a moment, the waving of thousands of Little Red Books held in thousands of hands marching passed a giant poster of the chairman, revolves in Chang-Bar’s inner mind. A thought like a pop-up window forces itself upon him. “The flattery of the bourgeoisie may conquer the weak-willed in our ranks”. The window closes and the screen flickers <SQL Error Line 4050 “missing expression’>. He turns to catch a figure looming ahead puffing and panting a fixed stare on the face – dark black holes where fleshy eyes should be.
At that moment Mr.Mazoid Man, the Senior VP of Bugger All sales, speeds past – “Hellooo!”, “yes – wonderful”, “amazing,” “awesome”, “marvelous” the words fall out of his mouth like bricks, sounding a hollow thump as they hit the uniform bland gray office carpet. His mastoids, like a regiment of soldiers goose-stepping around his lean frame, “What a great day!!” he sings, little does he know that his mind is held together only by the underlying psychological problem that he keeps deeply hidden from everyone. He glances at the DBA whose body, for a split second, begins to morph and pulsate. Mazoid moves on, there is no time to waste he has to make a sale, somewhere in this global market; he has to ‘Sell! Sell! Sell! Kill! Kill! Kill!” The rhythm set up by his internal mantra pushes him forward and upward. He is truly an International Asshole.
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