I sat down this morning and leaned back in my chair. The office is quiet, I'm all caught up, why not have a snooze? Then my nose got tickled. I twitched it. Tickle tickle. I wiggled it. Hey, that's a mighty tangy tickle. Then sour. Holy shit, that's actually pretty disgusting. I shuffled myself upwards into good posture and began tracking the stench.

Some mean bastard stashed an open container of ruby red grapefruit juice into the crevice between my desk and the garbage can. I doubt it was an accident. Garbage got swapped on Tuesday, so it's taken mere days to form that white fuzzy old sweater coating on the surface. It's probably only hours away from a circle of green against the plastic, the first step in a transformation from a once-pulpy juice into a sodden tumor.

Yum. I just wanna throw it into traffic. I want to hear the sick squelching sound when it suctions itself to a windshield. I want to hear the honking and the squealing brakes. I want to see the sudden stop fling the mass from the glass to a second wet plopping sound as it strikes the pavement, losing loose moldy chunks as it cascades away from the perplexed and angry driver. I want her to hear giggling from the bushes, and I want her to run towards me, screaming "you damn kids." I want to witness her shock when a full grown man stands and flees.

Strike that. I don't like getting arrested in my home state. Crime is for vacation. I'll just move it somewhere else in the office. It's too precious to throw away. 7:00 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm