Yesterday was the official voting for the Halloween decorating contest at work, but I had to spend the first hour of my shift in an Adobe Acrobat training session, and the BOSS was also in this class, which made it drag on and on because she kept asking questions and for the first time in my life, I honestly knew what Pee Wee felt like in the motherfucking Alamo, with everyone asking stupid questions and all he wanted to do was get to the goddamn basement.
Or, in my case – the ballot box.
I even floated up out of my body at one point. It was so frustrating.
Afterward, I had to sit at my desk and pretend to do work while Barb had a crowd around her as she counted the ballots and everyone was taunting me, making me feel paranoid.
At one point, I was honestly convinced that I was going to lose and I was scanning papers while practicing my best faux-gracious loser face. (Which doesn’t actually exist so I guess the proper thing to say is that I was trying to invent one, not practice it.)
Meanwhile, I used this as an opportunity to steal away to the other side of the floor and plant incriminating evidence in Glenn’s desk locker (a skull with a former employee’s name tacked to it) and then I casually strew a finger and key across his keyboard, which had originally been inside a secret box cut inside the killer’s diary.
Anyway, I wound up winning, but by a very slim margin.
It took Henry AN HOUR to congratulate me and then he MOCKED my winnings by saying, “Yay, cigarettes and gasoline for everyone!” But then he’ll be the first person asking to use it.
“Please! Just let me use it on one stick of beef jerky!” Fuck you, Henry.
(Oh, he just texted me and said “That’s awesome” in response to a card I made. Look at him sucking up already. Anything to fill up the tank!)
Glenn eventually figured out that he was the killer, but not without Sean and I holding his hand and walking him through it. Then he came over to my desk and admitted that he hadn’t really read Ken Lobe’s diary, which—-hello!—-had most of the clues in it. It all started to come together for him though, and what a treat it was to watch.
I guess tonight I’ll start taking my stuff down. I’m going to miss sitting amongst bloodied plastic liners, teeth in a salt shaker, fake skin and a pig mask. Goddammit, I’m getting all choked up.
I’ll probably at least keep my pictures of Lizzie Borden and John Wayne Gacy in the frames. Who needs pictures of their children on their desk, anyway? I see my kid every day.