Feeling Cranleigh*

I’m having a bad day.

It’s not the kind of bad day that simply makes you want the hours to fly by, but the kind of bad day that makes you want to to punch others indiscriminately in the face as hard and as often as possible.

Maybe a swift kick in the dick too; gender permitting.

I can’t put my finger on why it’s a bad day, it just is and I can’t shake it, no matter how many times I’ve gone to the toilets for a poo.

Now, for clarity, I don’t actually need to poo as often as I’ve been to the toilets today – because I would need some serious medical attention if I did – but it’s the only place in the building I can guarantee I won’t be disturbed as I sit on my porcelain throne, trousers and lacy thong around my ankles, playing ‘Flow Free’ on my phone. To add a little more joy to the proceedings, the toilets have music piped in.

Perfect splash concealment.

Thanks Ed Sheeran.

I look around at the fresh faced people I work with (at my desk, not in the toilets), buzzing away like bees in a hive, happy to simply go through their day like any other and I realise it’s the sort of attitude I usually have pretty much every day, except for today. Today I feel the overwhelming urge to yank people’s hair as I walk past them, dish out the occasional – yet unnecessarily brutal – Chinese/Indian burn (depending on whichever outdated, oddly racial description of this cruel childhood torture is your preference) and kick away office chairs just as people trustingly begin to sit down.

Actually, let’s be honest here….kicking away a chair is always funny, bad mood or not.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have depression nor do I crave sympathy or attention like so many baited Facebook posts.

#grammarpolice

Nope, I’m just simply in a shitty mood. This might be because it’s Monday, or maybe it’s because I’ve had too much/not enough coffee [delete as appropriate] or maybe…just maybe…it’s because I’ve only had 4 hours sleep the last two nights.

Yeah, it might be that.

Does it diminish my desire to choke passers by, just for passing by?

Nope.

So here I sit, marinating in my deep seeded desire to push over children and people on crutches, using this post as an outlet for the pent up rage bubbling somewhere in the depths of my soul.

I think I’ll go for another poo….and maybe a nap.

Zzzzzzz…..

Thrrrppp!

Excuse me.

 

 

*Look it up in ‘The Meaning Of Liff’.

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It’s all good fun until someone loses an eye.

So this happened a couple of days ago at work.

One of my close friends at work came up to our department to say hi, bringing along with her a girlfriend she was showing around.  Her friend had her young son in tow; I’d say he was about 5 or 6 years old.

Now, for context, everyone in our department owns a Nerf gun for any impromptu gun fights that break out.

It happens.

It’s brutal.

It’s also possible you can see where this post is going.

Anyway, they walked into our department, said hi and then handed the 5/6 year old a Nerf gun and he started firing at us, indiscriminately.  He was loving it; shooting and laughing like a boy possessed.  Hey, as long as there’s no nudity or swearing, some mindless and unprovoked gun violence is always welcomed here in America.

(ooh, controversial)

A few of my colleagues pulled out their guns (he he) and retaliated with friendly fire; it was a fun moment.

Then in came me.

I pulled out my massive weapon (sorry, couldn’t resist), cocked it (seriously, I can’t stop) and aimed at the child (OK, I’m going to get arrested).

Now, I’m a terrible shot with these things so I wasn’t worried.  I couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with a banjo. So I aimed at his general head area and fired.  The dart hit him full on in the face; his left eye to be precise.

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There was a pause in time and everyone held their breath.  We were all thinking the same thing.  Will he:

A) Laugh and fire back more enthusiastically

….or…..

B) Cry.

 

He went with B.

Great.

He put down the gun and buried his face in his mother’s embrace, sobbing profusely while everyone turned to me and said things like “Nice one Dan!” or “What were you thinking?”.  It was all slightly tongue in cheek, but the kid didn’t know that.  If only someone had said something like “Right, he’s going to get you now!” and boosted his primal urge to retaliate, he wouldn’t have felt so embarrassed and may not have cried.

Alas, that wasn’t the case.

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I genuinely felt bad for injuring this poor kid, and because he was now weeping in front of all these adults (loose term), but I was undergoing an internal conflict between my brain and my mouth.

Mouth – “Oh my god, I am SO sorry!”

 

Brain – “Ha ha, YES!  In the face!  IN.  THE.  FACE!!!  Boom!  Did you see that?  Right in the fucking eye.  Crack shot! (self high five)”

 

Mouth – “I really didn’t mean to hit him in the face!”

 

Brain – “I TOTALLY aimed for the face and I can’t believe I hit him!  I am the Nerf master!”

 

In an attempt to explain my actions, I tried to explain to his mum that I was usually such a bad shot and that I wasn’t aiming anywhere near him.  Then, to prove my lack of accuracy, I fired in her general direction.

As the dart bounced off her head with the most satisfying ‘Doink!’, my brain went into overdrive, but my mouth (thankfully) took over the situation.

Mouth – “Oh my god, I am SO sorry!”

 

Brain – “Ha ha ha, straight off the noggin!  Did anyone see that?  Bam!”

 

Mouth – “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!  I’m going to put down the gun now.”

 

Brain – “I TOTALLY aimed at your head and hit it!  I really thought I’d miss this time, but I didn’t!  I’m putting the gun down now as I’m two for two!  Booyah!! (air grab)”

 

She looked at me with a mix of angry surprise and ‘WTF!?’.  She literally couldn’t believe I shot her a mere 10 seconds after blinding her son.

Maybe this is why guns aren’t legal in Britain; it appears we’re TOO good, by Jove!

darts