You head into the office Monday morning, still resentful about having come in Friday.

You sit down at your cube and turn on your computer.   

“How was, uh-uh-uh, Friday?”

Jesus, it’s your boss. Where the fuck did he come from? Did he shapeshift out of that ficus plant that’s usually in the corner?

“Smooth sailing! Nothing to report!” You smile wide, hoping it will shake him off faster.

He narrows his eyes.

“You know, it wasn’t a, uh-uh-uh, half day.”

You can feel beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead. Does he know something?

“I know. I was… here? All afternoon?”

“There was a, uh-uh-uh, server outage at exactly 2:03 p.m. Surely if you were here you would have noticed it.”

You fumble around for words. But really, there’s nothing to say. You’re caught; and for some reason–the karmic hand you’ve been dealt, maybe–you’re the person he’s decided to call out about this.

“You know, around here, uh-uh-uh, we don’t pardon turkeys.”

Your boss sniffs derisively and walks away.

Did he just call you a turkey? Fuck, you’ve been doing under-chin workouts for weeks hoping to trim down your wattle.

You’d thought all your hard work was starting to pay off, but apparently not…

 

THE END.


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