Pack Up The Babies And Grab The Old Ladies

It was just a matter of time before the menace-festation returned.

 

Now atop the frame which steadies the decoupage loaded sneeze guard which presumably separates me from the rest of the world in Cubeville (but really not), sits the one malcontented being bent on being the bane of my existence.

 

He brandishes a new weapon.  Two of them in fact.  The plastic knife has been removed from the base of his skull and discarded with a vast quantity of apathy, and even less empathy to boot.

 

Instead, a black handled pair of scissors much like the ones your 3rd grade teacher used to taunt you with as she made a more precise cut along the lines drawn on the thick red construction paper in a sadistic display of how to cut out the shape of a hand for the bulletin board Christmas Tree correctly.

 

The razor sharp scissors aren’t all though.  Indiana Jones had a whip and a revolver.  Along with his crossbow-looking thing, Chewbacca carried a pair of nunchucks and other office supplies in his satchel which did little to cover his big furry oaf Wookie junk and probably more to prepare him for a tedious day in the office.

 

Attached to that black handled pair of scissors where the oils from the aforementioned teacher’s hand collected and bonded with the metal in an exercise only an alchemist would love, a small keychain comprised of a small chain and a laser pointer round out his arsenal.

 

The enhanced armaments are enough though.  For it’s that very piece of Mylar donned in electric blue sporting the message of “Happy Birthday” that was attached to the ribbon which facilitated his temporary demise in a garrote like fashion now serves as a saddle for his blood thirsty tuckus.

 

Even still, the damn thing doesn’t blink.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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