Ock storms into my well lit and cluttered office, inky black hair flying behind him, and wearing a glare so strong that you can see it through his dark lensed glasses. A glare that burns a hole into your soul.
"Curse you!", he roars, pointing at me.
I look at him more than a bit surprised and ask, "What? What did I do"
"You... you... you got those insipid SONGS stuck in my head!", he stammers, obviously so angry he can hardly talk and spitting out the word songs as if it were something vile.
I look at him and can't help but start to chuckle. "Which songs?" I can't help but ask.
He snarls and speaks at a normal tone, but with an edge of a dangerous barely contained malice in his voice. "YOU know the one"
I still can't help but be amused at this. "Actually, no, I don't. Please enlighten me though"
"It was that one stuck in your head earlier. That horrid techno remix of California Dreamin"
At this I snicker again. I know the song of which he speaks. And, in many ways, horrid is truly the only way to describe it. The only reason I have the song is because I downloaded all the songs from that group, and this was one of the one stuck in there. It starts out with the overdone darker man's voiceover saying "hold me close, hold me God, hold me love..." Think every overdone, cheezy, just plain BAD techno remix you've ever heard. That's it.
I'm snickering a third time. Imagining this great, dark, dignified, inky man having really bad techno stuck in his head is more than I can handle.
He glowers at me, still spitting out his words like venom. "And the WORST part is... the WORST part is that I caught myself singing along"
Well, at this, I just lose it. I bust out laughing, nearly falling off my chair. He continues to glower at me, twice as hard this time, breathing hard, doing everything he can not to totally lose his cool here at my workplace. I look at him and can't help busting out laughing even harder at his barely contained rage. I know he's a dangerous man, one who's prone to lashing out when he feels his ego is being threatened, so then why does he have to look so humorous when he's angry?
"It's not funny." he says in a lowered voice, words still dripping with seething rage. Turning abruptly on his heel, he storms out of my office, a blur of muted color and darkness and anger.
And at this point, I do fall out of my chair. :)
"Curse you!", he roars, pointing at me.
I look at him more than a bit surprised and ask, "What? What did I do"
"You... you... you got those insipid SONGS stuck in my head!", he stammers, obviously so angry he can hardly talk and spitting out the word songs as if it were something vile.
I look at him and can't help but start to chuckle. "Which songs?" I can't help but ask.
He snarls and speaks at a normal tone, but with an edge of a dangerous barely contained malice in his voice. "YOU know the one"
I still can't help but be amused at this. "Actually, no, I don't. Please enlighten me though"
"It was that one stuck in your head earlier. That horrid techno remix of California Dreamin"
At this I snicker again. I know the song of which he speaks. And, in many ways, horrid is truly the only way to describe it. The only reason I have the song is because I downloaded all the songs from that group, and this was one of the one stuck in there. It starts out with the overdone darker man's voiceover saying "hold me close, hold me God, hold me love..." Think every overdone, cheezy, just plain BAD techno remix you've ever heard. That's it.
I'm snickering a third time. Imagining this great, dark, dignified, inky man having really bad techno stuck in his head is more than I can handle.
He glowers at me, still spitting out his words like venom. "And the WORST part is... the WORST part is that I caught myself singing along"
Well, at this, I just lose it. I bust out laughing, nearly falling off my chair. He continues to glower at me, twice as hard this time, breathing hard, doing everything he can not to totally lose his cool here at my workplace. I look at him and can't help busting out laughing even harder at his barely contained rage. I know he's a dangerous man, one who's prone to lashing out when he feels his ego is being threatened, so then why does he have to look so humorous when he's angry?
"It's not funny." he says in a lowered voice, words still dripping with seething rage. Turning abruptly on his heel, he storms out of my office, a blur of muted color and darkness and anger.
And at this point, I do fall out of my chair. :)