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Slam! Another horrible day at the office, another yell from the people in the apartment next to mine, telling me not to slam the door. Shit, with all I put up with, I deserve to slam a door once a day. I don’t bitch about their fucking dog barking all night. Anyway, let’s just check if anything’s on TV. Seen it, hate it, hate it… fuck it, why do I even pay for cable? I don’t remember the last time that I was satisfied with something on television. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember the last time I was satisfied with anything. I haven’t had a steady girlfriend for three years, and I put up with the boss’ shit every fucking day to keep myself fed, and pay for the rent on this pile of shit I live in. The fat fuck has it all: a beautiful wife, a nice house, a nice car… well, he has it all with the exception of maybe human decency or an ass that’ll fit through the average door. How does he get a wife like that, anyway? Last I heard, women aren’t attracted to men with clogged arteries or tempers shorter than their dicks. It’s gotta be the fucking cash the man has, and all his toys that go along with it. Ah well, I need some dinner… what’s in the freezer? More microwave-convenient shit that probably tastes better if you’d just gnaw on it when it’s frozen so your tongue goes numb and you can’t taste it at all. Fuck it, I’m going to bed. Slam! Yet another horrible day. Yeah, shut the fuck up, I’ll slam my fist into your face if you tell me how to close my door again. Maybe I’ll slam a baseball-bat into your fucking dog’s head to shut the little bitch up. God damnit, nothing on TV. Why do I even pay for cable? Not that I have time to worry about that right now, I have work to get done tonight for Mr. Fat-fucking-pig tomorrow. I can only deal with his rank breath and spit in my face so much in one day, and I can’t imagine how long he’d go on if I didn’t get this done. Maybe he’d pass out from not getting enough oxygen to his already overworked heart if he yelled at me for that long. But it’s not good enough of a possibility for me to rely on it, so I may as well get this shit done. Slam! “Hey, fuck yourself, I’ll slam the door all I fucking want, unless you wanna try to stop me, you inbred redneck piece of shit!” God damnit, I hate my boss. I work all fucking night for him, and I get chewed out even more than on a normal day. I am impressed by him, though. I mean, no other man of that size can fit into my cubicle, especially not when they’re puffing up like a hot air balloon, bursting full with their own bullshit. I hope something’s on TV. Oh, this looks good… wait, should have known, a commercial. Why I do even pay for cable? Ugh, I’m so tired, I need some sleep… can’t go to bed yet, though… the boss’s wife will be in tomorrow, and I need to iron my shirt. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, bee-! Fucking alarm clock. The first of many annoyances in my endless cycle of misery. Better get to work, before Jabba the Dick notices I’m late. God my car’s a piece of shit. Hope it starts today… ah, good. “Good morning, boss”. Hmm, at least he’s attempting to act civilly, as his wife’s watching his every move today. “How nice to finally meet you, ma’am… oh, I can call you Veronica? You’re too kind!” Too kind to be fucking a man whose waist circumference is probably 10 times your age. “Well, I’d better be getting to work.” You know, before your asshole husband holds a lighter to my next paycheck. I hope it’s almost time to go… fuck, two hours left! I swear, time passes unnaturally slowly in this building. “Oh hi, Veronica. How can I help you? I’m wanted in his office? Okay, I’ll be right there.” Wait a minute, is this woman making a pass at me? Her hand’s in my pocket… well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten this kind of attention! Wait a minute… don’t go! *sigh.* Wait… why is my pocket so heavy? What did she leave in there… a gun? Holy shit, why did she leave this on me!? There’s a note, too… what’s it say? For him? She wants me to kill her husband! I’ve never dreamed of doing something like this… but it seems so right, now that it’s in my grasp. He deserves a bullet in his head, anyway. Let’s just have this meeting in his office now, no better place, since no one will be there to witness it. I just hope that there isn’t too much fat in his head to cushion the bullet. Show time… “you called, bo…” that’s not my boss. That’s Veronica, in her bra and panties! Finally, a day of work I’ll enjoy! I better keep the gun in my hand in case the boss comes in soon. Oh, god, it feels so good to have a hand on my dick that isn’t my own. Now to get her out of those panties… this is the best day of my life! This is power! A gun in my hand, ready for the boss, my dick inside his wife… nothing can go wrong! The door’s opening! “Time to die, pig!” Wait… just a second… a cop? “No, officer, I didn’t mean you… Veronica, stop yelling rape, I… no, I haven’t even seen my boss since this morning… then who’s in which chair?” Oh, shit. The fat fuck already has a bullet in his brain, and the body has conveniently been turned away from sight in the black leather swivel chair. Slam! Here in jail, no one tells the guard not to slam the cell doors. This is a big misunderstanding… I was set up… the fat fuck has stopped ruining my life one day at a time now, and has now ruined my life permanently, as I will be having poison injected into my veins in 3 hours. This private room isn’t so bad, though… no sweaty, fat bastards screaming in your face, no yappy little dogs to listen to, and it even has television. I wonder if anything’s on?