I’m best at being mediocre, sitting in this drab air-conditioned office, in a dead end job.

Going nowhere, sitting at my desk with a can of Red Bull and a pot of toffee-chocolate mousse; a dessert oasis in the never-ending storm of my existence, the pit of mass darkness that spreads from dawn till dusk despite the bright sunlight and the foetid warmth outside of this air-conditioned building.

What can I do but dream…and while away the time by using the key to the universe, the search engine, to look for the appropriate category of porn.

What would my boss say? That I’m an errant star?

She wouldn’t even notice me, though I’m in awe of her; just look at how much she’s achieved.

Go hellz bitches. Fucking girl power.

So here I am, sat at my desk, fucking damp patch of sweat spreading from my panties to the base of my spine. I doubt that she so much as glows. Meantime the air-con is literally a con, a broken promise which leaves me sweating out of every orifice.

I bet she wouldn’t let it show though.

Fucking bitch whore cougar, with her perfect fucking nails.

She’s probably got varicose veins, that fucking ancient prostitute. Hair in a steel bun; yeah, and I bet she only let’s that fucker down at Christmas.

Never mind.

I’ll fix her wagon.

…and now for that memo to appear, the one that you never saw but cannot blame on anybody else…



About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
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3 Responses to Admin

  1. The restless venom in this is potent. It just makes me think all the people in that office need a cold drink!

  2. Pingback: Inspiration Monday: Follow the Follower - bekindrewrite

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