exitstrategy

THE FOLLOWING BLOG IS A DRAMATIC RE-ENACTMENT OF HOW THE NUMBER CRUNCHER LOST HIS MARBLES. . . So I normally do not blog at work, but I had to tell this tale in case I do not make it out of here.  I am sitting under my desk, hiding.  From who, you ask?  From the number cruncher.  You remember him - the one who made me beg for interest calculations.  Well, the number cruncher has always been quite odd.  My friend at the firm and I used to imagine what he did when he left the office.  She imagined that he went he went home to a house with body parts in the fridge.  You get the picture. So, today I was standing in a secretary cubicle with the IT guy trying to figure out how to a get an image to print.  The IT guy was inputing codes of some sort and I was just standing over his shoulder, trying to look helpful.  Number cruncher walks toward the cubicle, and then starts to walk past me.  He pauses, turns, lunges at me, I jump, and he walks away cackling.  I mean it was not a lunge like the dude was gonna attack.  It was more of a fake out.  But it was nevertheless terrifying.  Note: I jump when pigeons fly in my direction from 50 feet in front of me.  You can imagine the jump when a potential maniac lunged towards me.  And, while the lunge may have been a fake out, the cackle was for real.   Not knowing what to do, I went to my friend to seek her survival advice.  I mean he had clearly picked me as his intended victim.  ”Number cruncher lunged at me.  I think he has lost it.”  ”Hmm, interesting you say that because earlier today he let out the loudest belch I have ever heard and then starting singing Super Freak.  Yeah something is off with him today.  Be careful.”  ”Thanks.  You too.  G-d speed.”  I walked back towards my office and I crossed paths with Number Cruncher again as he was going towards his office.  Hover, he had changed from his workplace chinos to a pair of jeans and a baseball shirt.  Right after he saw me he went into his office and closed the door. I rushed back to my office and got under my desk.  The only thing I remember from elementary school was that in the case of an emergency, you should get under your desk.  They called it duck and cover.  It was for tornados, not maniacs on the loose, but it was the safest place I could think of.  I mean if he comes looking for me he will assume I have left for the weekend.   So what does all this mean?  The lunge, the cackle, the jeans and baseball tee?  And then it became clear.  The Number Cruncher had changed into more comfortable clothes so he could move around.  He was in his office with the door closed to get out his bat (or other bludgeoning tool).  He was gonna add me to his collection of refridgerated parts. So, I made that connection hours ago.  I have been sitting under my desk ever since.  I am the only one left in the office it seems.  There are no sounds out there.  Should I leave?  Is it safe?  I mean why else would someone sing superfreak and wear jeans?  Could there be another reason besides it being murder time?  Could he be letting loose on a Friday, aka could it be Miller Time?   I will wait for a sign.  

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