The Plan

"Bob?" Mike asked, sipping his coffee in front of my cubicle. My break wasn't til nine, the bastard. He knew my name. I hate it when he said my name in a question. Sonofabitch. "I'm gonna need you to move your office space to make room for a new employee," he said with that damn-bastard-crapface-smuggy look on his face. "I'm not sure that's going to be a good idea, there, Mike," I said, the smile plastered across my face. I was respectful. He was my boss, the s.o.b. that he was. Mike was still grinning, "Sounds great, I'll tell Ronnie to get his things, and bring em' on over, kay? Bob?" and then he was gone. He didn't have to tell Ronnie anything. Three seconds couldn't have passed when the cup of water on my desk started to shake. ... What was that? There it was again. A vibration. And then the fluorescent light went black. It was enveloped by a giant orb... I squinted, and I saw it, Ronnie's goatee. "Hi, there fella," he gasped - apparently it had been a tough walk for big Ron. I moved my stuff over, but if felt pointless. There wasn't enough room. When he sat down my chest jammed into my desk, my left lung collapsed. And then the Fritos. Ronnie loved the Fritos- all the time. There should be a law. I've got to walk down three flights of stairs, walk around the building, and stand in a friggin' wind tunnel to smoke a cigarette, and this fat ass ruins his health wherever the hell he wants. I wish I could prove I got second hand fat from Ronnie. I gained three pounds in the first two hours. There should be a law. Mike came back to check on us. He laughed. "Bob? Cozy?" he said, hiding a smirk. Ronnie looked up with glassy eyes, he was thinking, "Cozy? C'mon Mike, it's me, Ronnie!" and then the most horrifying sound I have ever heard. Brute Laughter. It was like open mike night at the sci-fi convention. Shatner was killing. Beam me up, fuckers. Ronnie turned to share his amusement with me. I caught a Frito in the eye. It was soggy with Ron's spittle. I turned to Mike, coffee was coming out of his nose. He coughed up, and spat it out on my chin. "Mike?" I said, "Mike? I quit. Got that? Got that, Mike? huh? Mike?" and that was that. Ronnie ate me before I got to the door, though. That had been the plan all along.