Situational posts are short stories that randomly pop in my head when I am out and about. Some of these ideas are gonna be really out there… while others might be a bit more grounded. But all of them hopefully you’ll find interesting. Enjoy!
“This One Time After Work”
Juan Vargas’ tyrannical reign over the office would put any despot to shame. He had a way of tearing you down, bit by bit, piece by piece. His talent was uncanny, he could disassemble whatever sense of pride one thought they had in a matter of minutes. The new hires always mistook him for a kind person, his charm had the desired disarming effect. But after a few days of chumming, the mask erodes, revealing a man of much less substance. A stout man who was unusually proud, his belly pertruded over his waist line, turning his shirt and tie into some kind of stopgate.
His suit pants were pulled rather high over his waistline (or as far as they could go). His red ‘power tie’ and black suit were drowned out by his pronounced waddle and heavy breathing. He reeked of cigarettes and morning breath and his laugh was overtly obnoxious. He had a bad habit of laughing at his own jokes, almost as if it were a cue for his subordinates to do the same. I hated the way he loomed over me in particular. Most times he wouldn’t say anything, but I could tell that was only because he didn’t have anything critical to say. I hated the man. With every part of my soul. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.
But today.. the universe wanted to reward me. After another shitty day of reprimanding and condescending, I had the honor (the privilege, luck, blessing etc.,) of running into the ever proud Juan Vargas on perhaps the lowest moment of his life.
I was the last to leave the office, I had a mountain of backed up work to do and not enough time to do it. After beating my head against the perverberial wall, I still found myself drowning in an endless stream of obituary paper work. I’m not going to get into specifics about my job, but let’s just say it’s boring and it pays the bills. I get a cubicle, a desk neighbor who keeps relatively to herself, and an hour lunch that becomes the days saving grace. Anyway, the office is pretty much empty. I’m ready to throw in the towel. As I’m packing my bags, I hear a thump from one of the walls in the vacant conference room. Suddenly it gets quiet. Deathly quiet. I can hear faint panting, like someone quietly trying to catch their breath. First I pay it no mind, it maybe a cleaning crew or something. Then it happens AGAIN. “Hello?”
I carefully stand up, suddenly alert to every bit of movement in that office. Not sure why I felt threatened, but I did. First few steps I took towards the conference room I spent desperately trying to talk myself out of going. I pleaded with my curious self. Every far fetched scenario of me some how not making it back from checking that room played over and over again in my mind. Halfway there, I heard another thump and I quickened my pace. Didn’t give myself time to think this descision through. I’m at the door, and I’m checking to see what’s inside.
And man was it worth it! Vargas was sitting in one of the twelve lush leather office chairs with this pants undone. He was unconscious, leaning over towards his right. I’m not sure what was stopping him from falling over. But it was glorious! His forehead glistened as strands of his froppy hair stuck to his head.
Immediately go for my phone. Moments like this are why they invented camera phones! I go crazy and take like ten pictures. And I got creative too. I was coming up with angles you wouldn’t even believe! After I had enough pictures on my phone, the thought dawned on me that his life could actually be in danger. And I didn’t want to be the guy that’s getting bothered by police because this asshole died. So I nudge him.
It took a couple of tries but eventually he comes too. “W-what… Joeseph?!” I’m quite sure I was the LAST person he expected to see. And for good reason. The first question was obvious, and it was pretty clear that wasn’t going to get a straight answer, but I just figured I’d ask just for the record. “What happened?” Vargas notices his pants are undone and quickly adjust. “Look, I didn’t know anyone was still at the office.” He said. He adjusted his shirt accordingly, somehow convincing himself there was a way he could look dignified in this situation.
“Listen to me. You don’t know what you saw here, not a word of about this to anyone!” Would you believe this guy had to nerve to point his finger in my face? Full on teacher student, father son shit.
“Juan, I don’t think you understand what’s going on here.”
He quickly reigned himself back in, realizes that I wasn’t a scared little pussy. I had every intention of milking this. “Tell me what happened, and these pictures I have on my phone get deleted.” Vargas took a deep breath. He buttoned up the rest of his shirt (except for the top button) and fixed his hair a little bit. He stood up, reminding me how short he was. “Delete those pictures Joeseph and I’ll forget this.”
“How are you in any place to say that to me?”
He took a step towards me, I cautiously took a step back. “Juan, we’re gonna talk about my future at this comp-” Vargas lounged at me, tackling me to the floor. He went for my phone in a mad scrambled, climbing over me to get to it. Just as he gets past me, I grab his foot, preventing him for going any further. He then kicks me square in the face and crawls towards my phone. Now in my defense, it wasn’t the pain of the kick that hurt me. It was the fact that this man kicked me at all! We’re actually having a full on fist fight! I get up and tackle him just he reaches for my phone (which is now under the door way of the conference room). I spear him into the adjacent wall, actually making an indentation. This fat piece of shit knees me in my lower chest, then throws me on the ground. Standing over me, he puts his knee on my stomach and his then his hands around my throat. His grip is ironclad. I can literately feel my throat closing up. A struggle for a bit, scratching at his eyes and face. I feel my body getting weaker. But I’m not going to go down as the guy who got killed by Juan Vargas. He already has ruined so much of my life, I refused to give him the power to end it.
My second wind kicks in, I successfully flip him off of me. I quickly get to my feet and kick him right in the face (payback bitch). He flies backwards, drawing blood from either his upper lip or his nose. I grabbed my throat, trying to catch my breath. But I quickly regain my focus. I kick him again, this time putting a little more torque into it, landing one square in the middle of his oversized belly. I hear a popping noise but that doesn’t stop me from giving him another one. He curls up on the floor in a fetal position, holding clutching his stomach.
“You’re not making it out of this office alive!!” He screamed in between coughs. I try to kick him again, for good measure, but he catches it. This guy was every bit of the super villain I thought he was! We struggle for a bit more, me trying to take my leg back and him trying to rip it off. We eventually run into someone’s desk, knocking some stuff over. I take a swing and connect, but it doesn’t effect him much. He pulled me towards him again and goes for my throat.
This guy was a lot stronger than he looked. And on top of that he was heavy. Regardless, I wasn’t some prized fighter myself, but I was proud at how long I’ve lasted so far. I swing again, this time connecting right on this nose. The blow stuns him, I look to hit again but my arms feel like spaghetti at this point. I miss badly, almost falling over. Vargas is leaking blood, covering up his face with one of his hands. He screams something at me in Spanish, but even if I spoke the language, I’m sure I wouldn’t have understood what he said. He spit in my direction, blood sprayed all over my face. I wiped it off and rested on the nearest desk, a feeling bit of relief washed over me.
Vargas was out of breathe, He looked as if he were about to pass out. “What do you want Joeseph,” he eventually said. I didnt quite have an answer for him. “I want a raise,” I said, gasping for air. Vargas was still clutching his stomach, not worried about the steady drops of blood falling out of his nose. His smashed upper lip seemed to blur with this thick moustache. Sticky dark red over chunks of skin and hair made this ugly man unbearable to look at.
“You’re not getting a raise. You’re a worthless nobody! You think you’re unnoticed at that desk? You’re there for a reason! You don’t have what it takes to be somebody who matters! This is you’re ceiling! And I’ll be damned if a piece of shit like you makes demands of me! I don’t care what you saw here, you will never move in this company! You would be shoveling shit in New Mexico if I had had my way! You should be grateful! I gave you purpose! I gave you a reason to exist! And this is how you thank me?!” Yep. Vargas continued his Shakespearean monologue until I threw a a stapler at him. Enraged, he charged at me again, only this time I grabbed a pair of scissors. He tackles me over another desk and we both hit the floor. We’re rolling around, punching and choking one another. Vargas’ white Button down shirt is covered in spots of blood. I’m bleeding too, but I don’t look nearly as bad as he does. Then the moment of truth happened. Moments like these are rare in life, but when they happen, it’s like a whole new level of living opens up. As if you were living in this sedated half existence, and all it takes is one true act of passion to wake you up. And you may think Passion is a weird word to describe this, but I think it’s the only word that’s comes close. Passion. I took those scissors and I Jammed them into Vargas’ chest. They jutted as soon as he hit him, releasing a curling scream from his mouth. He looked at me with shock and dismay, I feel like he knew this was going to be the end. I pulled the scissors out, sitting firmly on top of his and then brought them down again, this time hitting around his collar bone area. The blood was really starting to flow now, but this fucker was still alive. I stabbed him again, he grabbed my hand trying to pull the scissors out of his chest, so I punched him in the mouth. A few more stabs, and it was over. The scariest part was, it didn’t feel like I doing this to a person. The way those scissors went through him, was as if I were stabbing some castaway coach cushion on the street corner next to the garbage. I stood up and looked down at my work. A sense of pride washed over me. How many people would kill (no pun intended) to be in my position? I never did find out what he was doing in the conference room. But luckily for me, I wasn’t pressed to. I left everything I owned in my shitty apartment, booked a flight to China and never looked back. Roast in Peace Vargas, I hope you’re looking up from that fiery pit with all kinds of envy. Hope you enjoy the show you fat fuck.