Monday, February 12, 2007

TheBoss Is Unappetizing; ThePeach Eats Anyway

At noon today, just as I was about to eat the lunch I’d been dreaming of ever since breakfast, TheBoss whirled into my office and delighted me with the following conversation:

ThePeach: *sings* luuuunch time! Luuunch time! ME SO HUNGRY…laaaaaa!
ThePeach’s Stomach: laaaaa!
TheBoss: *explodes into office, collapses into chair, doesn’t blink for duration of conversation*
ThePeach: Ummm…hello. I was just on my way to heat up my lunch…*edges hopefully towards door*
ThePeach’s Stomach: RUN, BITCH!
TheBoss: Wait.
ThePeach’s Stomach: Fuck.
ThePeach: Yes?
TheBoss: *giggles* Ask me why I was up so late last night!
ThePeach: *prepares mind for a soul-raping* Why were you up so late…last night…*mutters* fuck I hate this job…
TheBoss: You better sit back down, this is a long story.
ThePeach’s Stomach: FUCK.
TheBoss: So, I was sleeping in bed with the wife when she suddenly starts edging over to my side of the bed and I get all annoyed and ask her why she’s in my space and she said that our kid was in the bed and that he smelled funny. So I left her with him and went to sleep in the kid’s bed and was walking into his room when I stepped in something wet and chunky.
ThePeach’s Stomach: *clench*
TheBoss: It was puke.
ThePeach: Oh my.
TheBoss: There was chunky puke all over the fucking place! The bed, the floor…and then I realized that the damn kid was in MY bed covered in puke! So I went back to get him out of my bed and change his clothes, and as I was walking him back to his room, he suddenly started puking again. I could tell, even though the lights were off, because I could hear the splashing sounds of his puke hitting the hardwood.
ThePeach’s Stomach: *gag*
ThePeach: What a mess.
TheBoss: So I told him to run to the bathroom as fast as he could and puke into the toilet. But what I didn’t realize was that my wife had gotten up to go to the bathroom and she was sitting on the toilet! So my kid runs in there, holding his mouth, with puke streaming between his fingers, and my wife has to jump off the toilet mid-stream to let him through!
ThePeach’s Stomach: *retch*
TheBoss: So, the kid is hurling into the can, the wife is standing beside him with her underwear at her feet, and then she suddenly gets a head rush from standing up so fast and she passes out!
ThePeach: Jesus.
TheBoss: And I didn’t have time to catch her, so she smacked onto the toilet and landed in the spilled vomit.
ThePeach’s Stomach: *groan*
ThePeach: Was she ok??
TheBoss: Oh ya, she’s fine. Just damaged her collar-bone a little. Anyway, that’s why I was up so late. All that fucking puke.
ThePeach:…wow. So your wife passed out from a head rush?
TheBoss: Ya, luckily I know a trick to combat head rushes.
ThePeach: Oh?
TheBoss: When you feel one coming on, you have to bear down really hard like you’re trying to squeeze out a massive crap. Like this: *lifts leg, squeezes*
ThePeach: Ya, I get it.
TheBoss: You really need to clench the muscles around your anus.
ThePeach: Seriously, I get it.
TheBoss: Just like you’re pushing out of your anus.
ThePeach’s Stomach: Why, god?
TheBoss: Anyway, go eat your lunch now. *trips out of office*
ThePeach’s Stomach: You heard the man.
ThePeach: But…all the vomit…and anus…
ThePeach’s Stomach: When has that stopped us before?


It didn't stop me this time, either. But I ate my lunch with much less gusto than usual.

Same deal with my 2nd lunch.


ThePeach

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Geez, Peach. He sounds ripe for a little, no make that a lot, of armchair diagnosis!
-ChocoDoc

Cleavage said...

This totally trumps the sandy vagina as the most unappetizing story I presently know. Why? Because there is nothing, not even a tiny iota, of redemption anywhere in that story. No rhyme, no reason, no humour...just your creepy boss cornering you in that windowless tunnel of an office.