I wake up in my office chair.

I tongue the scratch on the roof of my mouth.

My mouth is dry, and my tongue feels like a raw piece of meat. Charred. I taste burns under my tongue.

This never stops happening.

My boss walks up to my cubicle. I just know that bastard has got something to say to me. To complain to me about something.

Complaining.

Before he even opens his mouth, I tiredly throw him my best “don’t f!ck with me” look. He talks anyway.

He says something about production reports. Then he tells me that my hair is getting a little too long and I have to shave the scruff off of my face.

Me mentioned production reports. He always mentions those three days in advance. Reports are due on Tuesdays. Today must me Friday.

I tell him as politely as I can to lay off and I’ll get the reports to him by Monday.

He tries to bargain, saying he’ll lay off if I get them in by tomorrow.

Punch Him….

No, I say, I bust my ass here every day and all you do is badger me.

And I used to be such a nice guy.