The worst thing in the world happened to

The worst thing in the world happened to me today. I got stuck in the elevator with Fred. You know what I'm gonna say next, dontcha? 'Cause everyone knows about Fred & how he farts

I am fairly certain Fred hates me with a burning passion. The whole time we were on the elevator he was purposely farting in my personal bubble. He is such a skeez.

The first lesson I learned at Duble & Trubhorn was never get in the lift with Fred from accounts. He farts & has hands which are less wandering & more Siege of Stalingrad. The oxyg

en displaced by his malodorous flatulence, I had fainted and fallen into his arms, only to come to consciousness with Fred from accounts' grubby hands down my shirt and fondling my

dog tags. "Are those real?" asked Fred as he saw me coming to once more. "Of course they're real!" I declared. "Now get your stinking paws off me, or I'm gonna get medieval on you

r cuticles." Fred let me go but he didn't look worried. He was a large man, dressed rather strange. He wore an animal skin. His feet were rough from using them as brakes.

His car was very primitive, to say the least. But it was 5,000 years old or so. Well built, I said. Fred agreed. I was struggling to tweak my comfort zone by folding more stories.

another folding story and couldn't find my way back to where I had begun. So now I had no car, no story lines, and no ideas. So I climbed into a trash bag and threw myself

upon the mercy of a man who had no wife, no horse, and no mustache. He showed me his borrowed boots and the borrowed murder he now had to return. He returned it with my corpse.