Too Good to Be True?


Hmm. I'm not really sure what to say to you guys right now. You've all been so...pleasant? Is that--yeah, I suppose that's the right word. Pleasant. And hard-working.


You've been so good that I wonder if I've fallen into a coma, or if I've been staring into a snow globe this past month while your kind acts and overall non-butthole-ishness were all taking place in my head. You know, like St. Elsewhere? But less eventful and I don't have autism...

Am I getting Punk'D? Is this one of those things where you lull me into a false sense of security, only to come back with something harder and stronger and stupider than ever before? Because, if so, I feel like you should tell me that. I know that would seem counter-intuitive to your big surprise douchebaggery, but rest assured, if that happens and you DIDN'T warn me, I'll literally cut off all your genitalia, put it in a box, and donate it to Goodwill. Because I don't play. But I do give to charity.

Anywho, hope we can keep this streak going. Because there's something about leaving work and not wanting to commit a serious felony that is so...refreshing.

Your coworker

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