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Judson tried hard but failed to hide his unease. He always thought it best to give off an air of unflappability when starting a new job but it was only 10 AM and his composure left him like a young Egyptian boy fleeing the advances of a portly colonialist. It wasn’t just that the man he was supposed to be working for was barking at him so early in the morning. Nor did he find it especially unsettling that the man spoke through some sort of voice synthesizer that rendered his voice unnaturally stentorian and made everyone around him wince. No, what really bothered him was that his new boss was also wearing the mask of a member of the band Gwar.
“I AM THE PRIME MINISTER OF SINISTER, ODERUS URUNGUS! YOU ARE THE REJECTEMENTA OF A PUTRID, BILGE-RIDDEN PLANET. WITHOUT PREVARICATION YOU WILL PROVIDE ME WITH CROSS-TABULATED, CUSTOMER SEGMENTATION REPORTS AND CC ME, MR. URUNGUS, ON ALL CORRESPONDENCE EMANATING FROM YOUR SCUM FILLED BEING!”
Oderus turned on his heels, unsteadily, and waddled off. His belly stretched out his burgundy and mustard checked shirt that tucked into pleated khaki’s from Eddie Bauer. Judson immediately turned to his cubicle mate who was pretending to type while reading a copy of Redbook that rested in her lap. She may also have been diddling herself. Wearily, she explained to him that the firm had given up forcing Oderus to remove the mask and jettison the character after he flooded them with discrimination complaints. Leery because of previously successful discrimination suits against them, the firm not only allowed him to keep his alter ego but also promoted him for good measure.
Judson continued working throughout the day and at 5 PM he went into a toilet stall to mull over the day’s events. Soon, he heard the restroom door open and through the crack in the stall door he could see Oderus bent over the sink running the water. The mask was off. He wet his hand and ran it through his thin, limp hair while staring at his pallid complexion in the mirror. He rubbed his temples and looked hard into his bloated, time sunken eyes. He was tired, so very tired.
Date Written: July 16, 2003
Author: Dylan Danko
Average Vote: 4