walk back from the kitchen with your cup of joe (black, half a
Splenda), as you pass that endless lineup of desks with all those
faces you've been seeing every day for almost eight years, the urge
has grown progressively stronger and more undeniable.
They all look up and acknowledge you as you pass. As if they need to
confirm with their own eyes: 'Yup, he's still here. But where would
he go?'
The silent prayer to your higher power starts its frantic refrain in
your head as you try to keep your eyes on the ground and averted away
from that vast sea of poorly shaven and overly bejowled coworker
visage:
"Don't throw hot coffee in someone's face don't throw hot coffee in
someone's face they'll start screaming and clawing at their already
bubbling and peeling skin and they'll fall on the floor and you'll be
dragged away babbling wordlessly and oh dear God it's just got to
happen one morning! But not today. Don't throw hot coffee in
someone's face do NOT THROW HOT COFFEE IN SOMEONE'S FACE OH JESUS
THERE'S JUDYYS FACE IT TAUNTS ME SO!!!"
Looks like you're gonna finally throw a cup of hot coffee in a
coworker's face. Cross that one off the to-do list I guess. By the
way, you'll be charged with felony assault.
Happy Uh Oh. Looks Like You're Gonna Finally Throw A Cup Of Hot
Coffee In A Coworker's Face Day!
