You came in slow, stealthily, acting almost as though we were friends. The song on the alarm clock radio was "What I Like About You," by The Romantics, the coffee was particularly delicious, the sun was smiling brightly at the cool, comfortable temperature, and the whole thing seemed like a Friday.
Soon, though, you showed your true nature, the nasty, despicable side. Somehow, even though my coffee was on the other side of the counter from where I was making lunch, a Spicy, Tabasco, Fire, Inferno, Devil's brand Potato chip ended up in what had been one of the finest hot drinks of my long, drink filled life. Dang It!!!!
Oh, well, one cup down there are ten more in the carafe.

"That's right, Bob. Crosstown traffic is pure hell, today. Even if you live you will be scarred for life. I would avoid the whole interior of the city and use alternate routes, maybe take the back roads, to a secluded, wooded location that nobody knows about, and make peace with the Lord. Or 5th Avenue, to Main, and go South from there. Updating you on the latest sports news, here is Chip D'Average. How about that game last night, Chip?"
Dang, and I am out of sick leave.
No choice, but to brave the drive, the fog, the demons, and the tornadoes, making it to work, just as the coffee I spilled on my shirt was turning unbearably cold. I noticed the front door to the building was missing.
And, over the weekend, someone had broken in and taken all of the printer paper, even the stuff in the printer. Painted the doors with the scene behind them so they always looked open, causing three broken noses, and a dislocated ring finger. And, changed everybody's voice mail greeting to "Hello, I am too dumb to answer my phone."
It was a good fight, Monday, and you almost won. Finally, around midnight I gained the upper hand, sending you running off, like a thief in the night. Now, you are back, and it is time to lace up the gloves and go a few rounds again. Take your best shot. I'm ready.
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