Clipped

Aw no, do I have to!?

I heard a Java developer whine as if something large and hairy was being pushed up their grumpkin.

Aye, you have to.

Uuurgh.

This didn't sound good. Timidly, I peeked up over my screen to see what was going on.

It was El Jefe. He was marching about the office floor with a clipboard in his hands. As he stopped by people's desks, he seemed to be marking their names off against some kind of list.

I wondered where he had gotten the clipboard from. I hadn't seen one of them in years.

It looked quite new. Did they still make them? Were they becoming retro trendy? Hell, had they ever been trendy?

Oh shit. He was heading my way.

I ducked behind my screen.

Hey, what are you up to? You're not hiding, surely? Please tell me you're not hiding from me?

I looked up.

There he was. Standing over me, clipboard held limply to the side as if it were a skipping rope made of penis.

I'm not hiding from you.

I said with the confident air of a Puffin pushing its young out of the nest.

You bloody well were! Why? Why would you hide from me?!

El Jefe looked genuinely hurt as if we were best friends and he had found me drawing love-hearts in my notepad with Ryan in the middle of them.

Um, well, you have a clipboard in your hands. Nothing good ever comes of that.

Jeffers looked guiltily down at his clipboard.

Ah. It's not a bad thing... No, really, it's not.

He mumbled.

It totally is. It's obviously some utter rubbish task that you are getting everyone to do.

It's not! It's really not!?

El Jefe was being uncharacteristically sheepish. Normally he relished the role of pantomime villain which was largely what his job was.

I bet it's utter shit.

I stated, giving him a squinty stare as if peering through thick smoke.

Well, it's not. So there.

El Jefe tucked the clipboard behind him and attempted to move away.

Hey! Where are you going? If it's not shit, I'm in.

He stopped mid-turn from my desk.

His face ran through a gamut of emotions before settling on resigned as if he had agreed to wash a dead man's testicles.

Alright then. You have been selected to go on a Manual Handling training course.

He said with a hint of challenge in his tone.

I shook my head.

Manual Handling?

Yeah, you know. Lifting boxes and stuff?

I pursed my lips and made a pfwoo noise.

Oh that's shit. That's really shit.

El Jefe's shoulders dropped.

Yeah, alright. It is. I will just mark you as having completed it.

I grunted, magnanimous in my victory.

He slouched away with his silly clipboard. I commended myself for resisting the urge to leap up and slap him vigorously on the arse.

Manual Handling...

I pushed my lips harder together.

PFWOOO!