I walk into work yesterday morning and in the middle of the office is a board. Just a big piece of plywood. Nothing on it, just plain plywood. Interesting. I look around, and seeing no one there (I usually arrive at work an hour early so I can make the office coffee and pee in it, and so I can pull various other schemes that vary with the time of year), I pull a permanent black marker from my desk and run over to it. I then give that board the best handlebar mustache it has ever received. “Thank you,” it seemed to say. No wait, it actually did say that. Or so I thought at the time.

Later on, when everyone walked in all at once, I was sitting at my desk, typing a business proposal by making my right arm limp, extending my right index finger, and lifting the dead arm up with my left, dropping it on the key I wanted to press. Naturally, this method did not yield a very solid proposal, though I did accidentally type the word “buns” a few times, so not all was lost. Anyway, everyone walks in simultaneously, and I hear a collective gasp. I think someone fainted, because I felt something go THUD on the floor. Either that or it was some fat dude walking. I turned to them to see what was so shocking. They were all staring at the board – the women in horror, the men in jealousy. I donned my paper-plate mask with the eyeholes cut out and started a new business proposal. I hit the caps lock key by accident, so I ended up screaming throughout the business proposal.

Finally, the CEO came in about 15 or 20 minutes later. He demanded to know who drew the mustache. His face was as red as an angry tomato. Everyone looked around, myself included. I also shrugged. The CEO produced cleaner and paper towels from his coat. “I want that gone by tomorrow morning – I don’t care who did it, but I want it gone.” He put the products down on the table in front of the board. Obviously, I wasn’t cleaning that shit. I had better things to do, like write business proposals. So I went on my coffee break. The coffee I brewed was terrific.

Later that day, around 4, I decided it was time to get the hell out. So submitted my business proposals and left. I figured, 8 hours is 8 hours. I went home, and on the way I ran over a squirrel. Skidded to a halt, picked it up, made hot dogs out of it later that night for dinner. Charles and I both thought they were delicious. Phenomenal!

So I go into work this morning, and the mustache is still there. “Obviously,” I say aloud. I do the usual stuff. Five minutes before everyone is scheduled to walk in, my mind wanders. I think about what is going to happen when the CEO walks in and sees that mustache still there. I can see him trying to pull it off the board and stick it on his face, and when that fails, I can see him turning that shade of red again, that red that’s normally reserved for firetrucks and period blood. My morning smile sags. Then I think about his turning to me when he hears me laughing at a funny video of a pizza online. The rage fills his body, and suddenly I am reminded of the situation with the postman. I yelp in fright, realizing I have to get rid of that damn mustache before I get sent back to the hospital. I scramble from my chair and spray some cleaner on it. No dice. It won’t come off! In a panic I throw open my desk drawers in an effort to find something to clean off the ’stache. White-Out! PERFECT! I paint over the beautiful upper-lip ornament, but that just succeeds in making it white. Great.

I hear a couple doors close outside. It’s almost too late, everyone is outside!!! I grab the first thing I can find from my drawer – a pack of playing cards. “This’ll have to do,” I say to myself. I grab my stapler and rip open the box, spilling red-backed cards everywhere. I start getting very nervous. I am sweating. I grab cards at random and staple them over the mustache. The whole thing looks like shit. Cards are turned this way and that, front and back, no regard to order. I staple up the last card just as the door is opening. I collapse, panting and sweating.

Everyone walked in and went to their work, seemingly unaware that on the day prior, someone had desecrated the board. The CEO followed closely behind to see if the job had been done. He examined the board for a minute, first from a distance, then up close, then said, “Well done. Whoever cleaned this board gets my pocket change.” He rifled through his right pocket and extracted his hand, full of coins. He dropped them in front of him, and they bounced and rolled all over the place, including all over me. The feeling of the coins on my back was like an invigorating rain, and I soon regained my vigor and slithered to the market where I hid in a wicker basket until some stupid customer reached in, when I bit the hand, sending poison surging through his body.