Enemies

It's hard to believe I've yet to rant about mine enemy, my arch nemesis, the vile cloud of C02 that fuels my explosive rage, (name removed to protect myself), the resident of Cubicle **** (I camp out in cube two). Nameless is the most disgusting and disturbing union of fat and flesh I've ever encountered, ever, and until he is eternally removed from existence, or moved to a different part of the building, I will be unable to focus on my job during the (thankfully) few hours he decides to come into work.

I describe Nameless as looking like Humpty Dumpty, because he is completely egg shaped and rocks back and forth when he walks b/c of some hip surgeries he's had. He is a chain smoker and his voice is a grating, whiny, nasal sort of awful with a hint of gruffness from the cancer I hope is growing in his throat. He is the type of diabetic who buys an entire pie from a bake sale (I wanted to hand him the spoon and tell him to dig in). He phones his wife numerous times throughout the day, and calls her momma and mommy. "Hi mommy. Did you wash my undershirts today?" "Hey momma, yeah, I'm eating carrots today." (So I can blame her for the godawfullyechoingloud crunching and munching?) "Mommy, my stocks went down today, yeah, I don't know what's wrong with this country" (watch the news?) "Hey mommy, can you come up to NASA and change my diaper, I'm not sure how." (Ok, I made that one up).

Every time he is present, he speaks so freaking loudly EVERYONE in his vicinity (and many who aren't) can hear his conversations verbatim. In fact, last week I learned his checking account number, routing number, password, and the total amt. of money in the account. Nothing is private for this man. His wife wears XL. I figured. His daughter's boyfriend hates him (who wouldn't?). He likes to drive around in fat-people carts when he goes on vacation (he didn't call them fat people carts, but that's what they are). The details abound. But I'll spare you, my imaginary reader, from what could be a novel-length list of facts and figures about the monstrosity that is Nameless.

Nameless is also really good at one-liners:

"It's because I drank too much lighter fluid as a kid" (No doubt)

"I used to ride the short bus" (I figured as much)

"When you squeeze the turkey's neck an onion pops out its but" (what? what what? omg)

The point is, Nameless is an abomination that must be stopped. I'm by no means the most philanthropic individual on earth, I'm regularly over-critical of the vast majority of my species, but Nameless really stands out from the masses of ignorance and filth I'm used to being surrounded by. I've written a list of grievances against him, and I hear it might actually lead to results. Others in the building have complained about him as well, so management knows I'm not just hyper-sensitive to abrasive personalities. But Nameless must not be permitted to continue his assault against my senses, he must not be perceived as an accepted member of a species that is capable of DaVinci's and Descartes. He must be forced to wear a dunce cap and a scarlet "I" for idiot. He must be segregated from the rest of us trying to improve existence for ourselves and others, those of us who are not chain-smoking, twinky-addicted, pig-trough-munching, beverage-slurping, pre-Oedipal, fat-cart-driving, whiny, obese pigs.

Sorry. I had to expel this filth from my head. He's a slow-working poison.