G is for Glasses
This was highly inappropriate behavior for the workplace; so, what else was new?
Timmy groaned internally as he looked up towards his boss, who lingered just over his shoulder, interrupting his work with a suspicious grin. "Sir?"
"I should have done this years ago."
"Done...what?"
"Yoink!"
And so it was that Russell removed Timmy's glasses from upon his face, placing them upon his own.
Oh, dear lord.
"Who-o-oa! How the heck can you see in these things?"
"They're prescription glasses, and I need them to see, I really don't appreciate..."
Oh, for heaven's sake, Russell was acting as if he were intoxicated with his new compromised vision, turning a slow circle with a soft, "Whoooa..."
"Sir, may I please..."
Nope, they'd moved on to mocking. "Look at meee! I'm Timmy, I wear glasses and I'm British!"
"South African," corrected Timmy in the most frustrated voice he could muster. Truth be told, he was more bored than angry.
Let him play his little game so work could carry on, as per usual.
You know, Timmy's brain said, other places are hiring.
"Hey, do your nerd glasses make me look smart? Think I could land nerd chicks with these things?"
"Not in the slightest, and no. You would still require a certain level of oh, I don't know, intelligence."
"Whoa, mean! Who harshed your mellow, man?"
There was a bit of consolation in this madness; Timmy, being far-sighted, couldn't see the idiot standing before him quite so clearly for the duration of this stupidity.
When at last he stood, walking directly towards Russell and snatching his glasses back from upon his face, Russell pouted a bit before retreating into his office, muttering a small, "Eh, you're no fun."
Timmy cleaned his glasses thoroughly before returning them to his face. "I'm fun...I'm all kinds of fun..." He groused for some time at his desk, pouting quite childishly.
Oooother places are hiring, his brain repeated. Ad nauseam, as it always did.
"Oh, shut up," he told his brain at last, and set back to work.