Yes finally liberation… the shoddy- subeditor is leaving this hallowed shrine - the only sanctified establishment in the universe where a group of uniquely crafted, pieces of crap work together in good will and harmony and rejoice in each other’s venerated company.
Battered, bruised, paranoid, depressed… she has over come all the stages even the last stage - a state of sluggish numbness and now she’s in the pinkest of health and joy that ‘lazy bones’ referred to her as an obese penguin.
The readers would like to know how things are 1 year later – lemme inform you nothing has changed – it still maintains its untainted reputation of hording a group of most revered ass-licking, timid, ball scratching, spineless herbivores.
The gloomy spinster is hornier than ever – so horny that she actually gets multiple waves of orgasms if any one or any being with any slight resemblance to the male species happen to pass by, even a mannequin can set her on fire. Her new sex accessory is a desirable pair of white slippers that makes a wet, sucking noise whenever she comes out of the loo. And her reports still remind me of my 8th standard economics classes.
The fatso is still the walking encyclopaedia here and people seek his valuable counsel for everything under the sun. Ah… who can afford not to give ear to his precious opinion on the ‘how to expand your butt in 5 days with 10 easy moves’? He even flaunts his big lumpy ass as the perfect example. He’s also become an accomplished voyeur – you can see him gazing through the glass door, his tongue hanging out watching the spinster’s phone conversations with palpable relish.
The ice maiden has lost that intense ‘I-have-rotten-bananas-up-my-ass look’, now she has a ‘Someone-just-released-a-fire-extinguisher-into-my-ass’ look and dresses like a starlet from a 50’s horror movie. She still consider herself as the epithet of feminine beauty with that exquisite long nose, so long that I wonder why she doesn’t rent it out as a dildo to some frustrated women and make some pocket money out of it.
Her reports get drier and drier, so dry that one of then actually reminded me of fossilized shit from the Jurassic era.
There is but one unique specimen that I have not introduced to any of the readers so far. Folks, meet the great Stuffed owl, who literally resembles a badly embalmed monstrous owl from the Stone-age.
He’s the personification of all manly virtue, the most eligible bachelor with looks that could launch a thousand girlish sighs and even make the most unimaginative nanny have incredibly erotic, wild fantasies about him (at least that’s what he believes). His fascinating character has made him the chief topic of discussion among the four paparazzis along with the talks of the enviable sex life of Ms Big B, Mr. Lilly’s extraordinary talent of saying the most incredibly long boring stories; Mr. Scum’s amazing eating habits etc.
But compared to all the other captivating characters the Stuffed Owl has certain exceptionally unique talents of gossiping, backbiting and a ravenous interest to know the private affairs of the other colleagues [it is even rumoured that he actually asked our boss if he wears polka dotted underwears and if his wife waxes her underarms with fevicol]. He claims to be the tech god in the office and really made me demented with boredom with his long explanations on his weird theories and opinions. Unlike the spineless, opinion less, soggy shrimps in the office, Mr Stuffed Owl is practically jam-packed with his own opinion on everything under the sun and he makes it a point to catch you unaware and shove it down your throat and rattle your head until you have completely swallowed it.
He has scary schizophrenic tendencies and hordes the uncanny idea that there is a hidden book of secret codes somewhere in the office which the officials are hiding from him. [If he had any sense he’d have already realised how incapable it is to hide anything in this place, it is like trying to hide a cup-cake in the loo, it would at any time be flushed away or eaten up considering the unappeasable appetite of the inmates here – remember Mr. Scum??]
He carries the hopeless delusion that he is the sexiest man in the office, though the popular opinion is that he has the sex appeal of an earth-worm.
Of course our darling little Lilly cannot be left out! The precious little lamb went to Paris and was so overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of that fascinating city that he closed his eyes and kept jabbing the button of his tiny digital camera while holding it as high as his tiny frame would allow him. The results were two dvds full of innovative, artistic picture with such profound depth and symbolism that we mere mortals could only make out vague dark shapes with impossibly white eye balls and teeth that seem to double itself, crazy lines, a few Eiffel towers swimming in a galaxy of paper clips and plenty of Lily’s own pictures blurred with such skilled precision that it was difficult to make out if it was Lilly himself or a undersized albino camel.
Battered, bruised, paranoid, depressed… she has over come all the stages even the last stage - a state of sluggish numbness and now she’s in the pinkest of health and joy that ‘lazy bones’ referred to her as an obese penguin.
The readers would like to know how things are 1 year later – lemme inform you nothing has changed – it still maintains its untainted reputation of hording a group of most revered ass-licking, timid, ball scratching, spineless herbivores.
The gloomy spinster is hornier than ever – so horny that she actually gets multiple waves of orgasms if any one or any being with any slight resemblance to the male species happen to pass by, even a mannequin can set her on fire. Her new sex accessory is a desirable pair of white slippers that makes a wet, sucking noise whenever she comes out of the loo. And her reports still remind me of my 8th standard economics classes.
The fatso is still the walking encyclopaedia here and people seek his valuable counsel for everything under the sun. Ah… who can afford not to give ear to his precious opinion on the ‘how to expand your butt in 5 days with 10 easy moves’? He even flaunts his big lumpy ass as the perfect example. He’s also become an accomplished voyeur – you can see him gazing through the glass door, his tongue hanging out watching the spinster’s phone conversations with palpable relish.
The ice maiden has lost that intense ‘I-have-rotten-bananas-up-my-ass look’, now she has a ‘Someone-just-released-a-fire-extinguisher-into-my-ass’ look and dresses like a starlet from a 50’s horror movie. She still consider herself as the epithet of feminine beauty with that exquisite long nose, so long that I wonder why she doesn’t rent it out as a dildo to some frustrated women and make some pocket money out of it.
Her reports get drier and drier, so dry that one of then actually reminded me of fossilized shit from the Jurassic era.
There is but one unique specimen that I have not introduced to any of the readers so far. Folks, meet the great Stuffed owl, who literally resembles a badly embalmed monstrous owl from the Stone-age.
He’s the personification of all manly virtue, the most eligible bachelor with looks that could launch a thousand girlish sighs and even make the most unimaginative nanny have incredibly erotic, wild fantasies about him (at least that’s what he believes). His fascinating character has made him the chief topic of discussion among the four paparazzis along with the talks of the enviable sex life of Ms Big B, Mr. Lilly’s extraordinary talent of saying the most incredibly long boring stories; Mr. Scum’s amazing eating habits etc.
But compared to all the other captivating characters the Stuffed Owl has certain exceptionally unique talents of gossiping, backbiting and a ravenous interest to know the private affairs of the other colleagues [it is even rumoured that he actually asked our boss if he wears polka dotted underwears and if his wife waxes her underarms with fevicol]. He claims to be the tech god in the office and really made me demented with boredom with his long explanations on his weird theories and opinions. Unlike the spineless, opinion less, soggy shrimps in the office, Mr Stuffed Owl is practically jam-packed with his own opinion on everything under the sun and he makes it a point to catch you unaware and shove it down your throat and rattle your head until you have completely swallowed it.
He has scary schizophrenic tendencies and hordes the uncanny idea that there is a hidden book of secret codes somewhere in the office which the officials are hiding from him. [If he had any sense he’d have already realised how incapable it is to hide anything in this place, it is like trying to hide a cup-cake in the loo, it would at any time be flushed away or eaten up considering the unappeasable appetite of the inmates here – remember Mr. Scum??]
He carries the hopeless delusion that he is the sexiest man in the office, though the popular opinion is that he has the sex appeal of an earth-worm.
Of course our darling little Lilly cannot be left out! The precious little lamb went to Paris and was so overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of that fascinating city that he closed his eyes and kept jabbing the button of his tiny digital camera while holding it as high as his tiny frame would allow him. The results were two dvds full of innovative, artistic picture with such profound depth and symbolism that we mere mortals could only make out vague dark shapes with impossibly white eye balls and teeth that seem to double itself, crazy lines, a few Eiffel towers swimming in a galaxy of paper clips and plenty of Lily’s own pictures blurred with such skilled precision that it was difficult to make out if it was Lilly himself or a undersized albino camel.
He granted us, mere mortals, the privilege of viewing this wonderful series of artistic splendour and so enthralled were we that all the pages were delayed that day and I still get an excruciating buzzing in my ears whenever I remember that day. (I heard that he was abducted and enlisted as a stripper for a gay club from which he had to be rescued)
Scum is still the same ass-licking, food craving and opinionless looser, But he finally achieved a groundbreaking skill – the art of browsing. And dear little scum now loves to show – off his new-found talent by browsing the news websites and playing the audio clip so loud that even the peacocks in the near-by zoo shivered with fear.
And oh – the good old squealing PIG !!!
Well what can I say .. he’s still the conservative, sugar-less vegetable consuming, frustrated mammal taking out his irritation on the Cynic. He burst a blood-vessel when he heard that the Cynic is resigning and almost died of heart failure. Of course, his insane jealousy is quite understandable considering that he’s about 110, spineless, stuck in this shit hole, with a voice like a pig in heat and having a bunch of bleating nanny goats as his subordinates while the Cynic is young, bold and talented.
And of course Comode-face is still his only darling buddy - they have so many things in common that I heared that they even share their tooth brushes and their hand-crafted, organic, 100% vegetarian ass-wipes.
Sigh !! Guess what? I’m gonna miss this enlarged version of a public toilet cum sewage. My eyes moisten with tender remembrance as I look at these computers from the Triassic era that works only when its spanked, dear Scum drooling at the tiny bit of chewing gum stuck on the floor, Lilly spewing his long stories, the stuffed owl snooping around the ladies loo, the Spinster making loud cackling orgasmic sounds, the ice-maiden extending her legs encased in a pair of extremely tight, pink coloured pants that make all the veins and bumps stand out, the Pig shrieking away to glory…. Ah such fond memories of happy moments spend in such lovely company that I cant help those tears of parting trickling down my cheeks.
Bye Bye….. may you rot for an eternity darlings ! I'll miss you all!
PS: There is no news of Mr. Oxford, the last that I heared was that he's gone to Turkey to teach the fascinating art of Grammer to a bunch of mutated cactus trees.
- The Shoddy Sub-Editor
Scum is still the same ass-licking, food craving and opinionless looser, But he finally achieved a groundbreaking skill – the art of browsing. And dear little scum now loves to show – off his new-found talent by browsing the news websites and playing the audio clip so loud that even the peacocks in the near-by zoo shivered with fear.
And oh – the good old squealing PIG !!!
Well what can I say .. he’s still the conservative, sugar-less vegetable consuming, frustrated mammal taking out his irritation on the Cynic. He burst a blood-vessel when he heard that the Cynic is resigning and almost died of heart failure. Of course, his insane jealousy is quite understandable considering that he’s about 110, spineless, stuck in this shit hole, with a voice like a pig in heat and having a bunch of bleating nanny goats as his subordinates while the Cynic is young, bold and talented.
And of course Comode-face is still his only darling buddy - they have so many things in common that I heared that they even share their tooth brushes and their hand-crafted, organic, 100% vegetarian ass-wipes.
Sigh !! Guess what? I’m gonna miss this enlarged version of a public toilet cum sewage. My eyes moisten with tender remembrance as I look at these computers from the Triassic era that works only when its spanked, dear Scum drooling at the tiny bit of chewing gum stuck on the floor, Lilly spewing his long stories, the stuffed owl snooping around the ladies loo, the Spinster making loud cackling orgasmic sounds, the ice-maiden extending her legs encased in a pair of extremely tight, pink coloured pants that make all the veins and bumps stand out, the Pig shrieking away to glory…. Ah such fond memories of happy moments spend in such lovely company that I cant help those tears of parting trickling down my cheeks.
Bye Bye….. may you rot for an eternity darlings ! I'll miss you all!
PS: There is no news of Mr. Oxford, the last that I heared was that he's gone to Turkey to teach the fascinating art of Grammer to a bunch of mutated cactus trees.
- The Shoddy Sub-Editor
