Walter Miller's Homepage

Page 5 of 6

Yes, just try and guess. You know what happoned.

The whole partey was a hoax.

I am not kidding, NO ONE was suposed to dress up: Only me, and they planned it that way. The e-mail i got did NOT go to the whole office just a few people as an inside joke. I have suffored some humilliations in my life but i think this was the worrst yet. The whole place was laughin at me all day. Boy did i feel like a horse's ass.

For abbout an hour i was in my cubicol tryin to concentraite on my work, but it was hard. I cannot prove it, but i beleive the hoax was done on me as revenge for errasing those files of that spoiled baby of a programmer. But annother time he erased MY files off the network server without askin ME first, so its tough crap if the same thing hapenns to HIM.

For a breif moment i atcually thuoght of going through with Granfathers plan of bringin home a stiff for him to drink blood off. Mabye the old vampire bastord was right....Nah, Id really bettor not.

This nice girl who works there (who was NOT in on the joke, and at some point i was hopeing to inpress and mabye even ask her out) came by to comfort me. It seems that people there thought i dressed up on my own to be a show-off.

She spoke to me in this low voice tellin me that she knew i had personol emotionnol problems of wanting to atract atention and eagerness to earn the approuvol of others, but that THIS was not a good idea. And that instead it made me look like a fool.

I told her i did NOT do this for atention. I tried to find the e-mail messege about the costoume party they sent me so i coud show it to her, but like a jerk, I had errased it. She was nice enuogh to loan me coldcream to take the danm makeup off but i wasnt alloud in the ladies room so she coud help show me how to do it.

back at my desk...

I coud hear whispors and giggles from other cubicols. i even heard a voice that might of been Granfather but it was too soft:


It was indeed the old bloodsuckor; and he was right nearbye. He was shrunk down to the size of a Happy Meal Toy, dressed in the proverbbial devil outfit with the little pitchfork, the handle of which he pokked into my temple.


Have you ever seen the cartoon where there is a little devvil on one side and a little angel on the othor. Well it was just like that. The little impish demon contineud in eerie, almost elloquent detail on ecxatly how i shoud dispach my victims, and bring them home for his consumption of thier crimson nectar which vampires needed to survive...


Then he ramboled on, (while i was tryin to do my cgi-bin coding, which alwayes throws me off if somone is talkin to me as i type), givin me all the details on how to committ murder: Which side of the chest the heart is on. Make sure i use the dropcloth in the trunk so's not to mess up his danm car. And stick a $50 bill in my wallet in case i get pulled ovor by a cop for any suspicsious leaks drippin outof the trunk.

"Hey Granfather," I said, "Isnt there suposed to be a little angel on my othor shouldor?"

He made a mallignent smirk, and held up the tiny fork, on the tongs of which i coud see small white feathors matted to it. "I DONE KILT IT AN DRUNK ITS BLO-O-OOOD."


Despite my cruel public enbarassment i just suffored, I firmley set it in my mind NOT to relattiate by facilitating the old beast...

...Until it hapenned once more:
Provokked AGAIN by mean co-workers!!!

Do you remmember in my last update how i wrote abbout how these people at work made me go out to get fancy flavoured coffee at the place across the freeway? WELL THEY MADE ME DO THAT AGIAN TOO except this time i was dressed like a friggen pink ballarina in a leppordskin top.

"Will that be all, Madam?"

That is what the smartass people at the cofee place said. I was too dejected to fight back and too angrey to cry. I went straiht to the Bugle Boy outlet a few miles down and got some normol clothes, (talk about gettin some funney looks in the changing room), and came back to work 45 minuts late and they complained that i took too long and also because all the cofee was cold but you know what?


When i got back to work once again i was told to report to the conference room. And this time insteadd of scraipin labels off demo disks my job for the whole day was to put peices of scotch tape in the uppor corner holes of these old 3.5" disks and then erase and reformat them all so they coud be used again. Some cheap bastord who works there found thuosands of them in a dumpstor and now they were being "repurposed" as a danm cost savings. This is what i am redduced to in this frikkin online industry.

I get some ideas for "Reppurposing" of my own

Later in the the mens room i was takin a leak and who sidels up next to me but the big crybaby programmor from the other day; the POOOOR baby who works SOOO-O-O-OOO hard...

He said he is not suposed to talk to me because he got in trouble too, but he talked to me nonetheless. He called me allot of mean names and openly bragged that he was the one who concocted the Pink Ballarina Hoax and that the bogus e-mail that looked like it came from the network was the expert work of his office mate, this pain in the ass creepy guy.

He was extremly creepy, this ofice mate. He was commonly known as "the Creepy Guy."

I hate when peopple talk to you when your tryin to pee because i get nervous and cannot pee. The doctor says i suffor from an emotionol condition called Bashfull Kidney.

The Creepey Office mate

This creepy guy he spoke of, the ofice mate was somone i hated too. Yes anothor independent programmor wiseass consultent. He was the kindof person who always asks you what kind of PC you have at home, and demands to know ECXACTLY what you payed for it. Even if you dont know him well, or dont WANT to tell him, he begs you till you answor. And when you do, he says, all haughtey abbout how stuppid you were for spending that much, and how he always builds his OWN system for just pennies from parts buoght over the web and at Radio Shack.

Plus, he is an OS/2 fannatic, and you know how wierd THOSE folks can be.

The Prima Donna and the Creep. Lets get ready to RUMMM-bolll...

...Cause its SHOWtime, folks.

I stayed arround till just after dark. These 2 programmors always whine abbout how they pull "all nighters" all the time and work so hard. Yeah right, at 1 AM on any given night I'd say they were playin network Quake over the company T3 with their pals on the west Coast. Plus i'd seen pictures of their wives. If i was marreid to women who looked like that I woudnt ever go home neithor.

The anger welled within me. I looked at my face in the mens room mirrer for a good long time. Some of the mascarra was still on my eyes. I mihgt of looked like Boy George but i felt like Rambo: Houmiliated and ready to kick som ass.

A cowardley attack.

I descided then and there NOT to go thruogh with it. Yes i chickoned out. But suddenley the little Granfather devil apearred once more on my shouldor. It leveled the pitchfork at me jabbin it into my neck while hollerin in my ear, "GEEK BLOOD! KILL THE GEEK!"

Oh allRIGHT...

...Pushey devvil bastord.

OK, I admit i was to scared to make frontol assault so I snuck up on the Prima donna from behind while he ate cold pizza at his desk. His computor screen was caked with dust and streaked with dryed snot. Sureley you too have worked with peopple like this.

And all about the screan, the edge of his PC monitor was encircled all around with emptey Alka Seltsor packs, the yellow kind, taken from the infirmery and scotch taped all arround the perimetter of the screen. Also taped there were emptey yellow caffeinatted gum wrappers. Dead soldiors they were, emblems, war tropheys and blatant selfish self-servving advortisements of ALLLL the hard work this POOOR baby does SOOOOOO well.

The screen looked like a danm giant yellow sunflowor. There is some sort of geek symbollism here but I dont know where.

I had in my hand the fire extingouisher from the kitchennette and wacked him with it very hard from behind. I tell you it sounded and felt like hittin a cocconut with an ax handol. I thuoght he woud be knocked out imediatly but he spun arround lookin at me dazed; he'd bit his tounge and looked pained, and bled from his moulth and head. I felt a twinge of pity, then reallized the mortifyeing experrience of comin to work dressed as a ballorina wearing both Granfather's ex-girlfreind's makeup and also my desceased grandmother's old Cat Womon rinestone eyeglasess, to the ridicule and hummilliation of my peers. Not to mention the peoplle at the cofee shop and the Bugle Boy outlet. I raised the fire extingouisher aloft and bruoght it down onto the bridge of his nose and this time he was uncouncsious.

And Now: The othor one....