That little fucker sits there with his hands rapidly moving and staring into my soul. Almost with the urgency of a speeding train with no brakes, he keeps twitching those feverish hands
"Stop staring at me", I yell but the futile attempt is met with more long....intense...penetrating....intense stares. It's as though he's my boss watching me slyly clock in after a much needed break
Now, as I sit here acting as though it's of no consequence, I plot my revenge. The stares have burned a deep desire in me to end this unfortunate sequence of events. Am I plotting against him or has he been plotting against me? Is he toying with me just about to capture my king? Is he arranging his soldiers to ambush my flank? Well, I am poised for battle and won't go down without a fight
Hmmmm.....I could end all of this right now with one brave and direct approach but what if he fights back? What if he has friends in dark places? Ok, I'll keep planning
This is insane. Why are you staring? Stop motioning your hands. What does that even mean? Why are you torturing me devil?
He shuffles closer and I feel a rush of testosterone. Not sure if I'm losing this precious chemical resource or gaining in strength. As I strategize, mental images of Roman battles plague my mind and why am I on the losing team? Dammit...those stares
Until today, I had confidence in my stature and belief in my ability to defend myself. That's all but gone now. I feel like Luke when Darth Vader was using the force. Yes, I'm Obie Wan Kenobi. I'll stare back. I'll use....the force!!!
I clear my throat and wipe the beads of sweat from my brow. Cautiously, I inch my neck in his direction. This pain is excruciating. My neck has never failed to turn in any direction
Ha. I'll use my hands to gently move my head towards him to begin the showdown. Just as I motion, he walks toward me and I'm paralyzed. I stop. He stops. I motion and so does he. Stop toying with me and let's get it on. Just get it over with. If only I had a weapon like the gunslingers of old I'd show him. I'd point, fire and end this torturous moment
I finally begin my glare into his soul....yeah big mistake. Now, I'm entranced by subliminal messages. Why is he so much more masculine than me? Wow, look at the definition in his arms
Why didn't I keep that gym membership? I could've taken him. If I didn't have to pay those damn parking tickets I could've kept that membership. Dammit, focus man....FOCUS
His staring is so intense. I should just give up but wouldn't that be the mark of a coward? Nope. It's called choosing your battles. Yep, ha...I'm not really scared. I just don't want to fight, not today anyway. Besides, I have to get back to work. It's sunny out and I could just enjoy the day but I'll still see him after work
Dammit, stop staring at me. Ok, now I'm getting pissed. "You want some of me", I say very loudly...in my head. I picture the ensuing battle and this time I'm the victor
I decide to make my move and just as I do, he stands. He's much taller than expected. His stares grow more intense and any preconceived notions of a victory are quickly replaced by the reality of pain and a short hospital stay
Finally, I stand tall and erect but respectful, lay my sandwich down making sure to maintain eye contact then quickly dash in the other direction. Moments later, I peer out of the window to see a terrible and horrific sight. That fucker is eating the very sandwich I proudly prepared during the wee hours of the morning which caused me to arrive to work late
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