The Dark Passenger

 This morning I woke up in shock, I had dreamt about Philip Focker.

In the dream I was at work, and Focker, this guy in my team, was refusing to send me his timesheet, pretending he was busy*.

*Define busy:  busy is the partial or complete wasting away of a part of the body. [...] Causes of hands and fingers atrophy include masturbation and sucking asses in the workplace.  

Source:  the internet.

Ok, so the guy is busy, it is a terrible medical condition, I understand. But yet, I need to send the bloody timesheet to Petra Xanax, my boss, who needs to send it to Jamie La Ceinture, her boss, who needs to send it HR, who needs to print it on toilet paper for Peter Superman, our respected CEO, who will use it at home for entertaining guests who come for dinner parties.

This is what happens in the dream:

Me: Focker, would you be kind enough to send me your timesheet before EOP?
Focker: Sorry Miserable Middle Manager, I can’t, the deadline is too tight, and I am busy.
Me: it is the same deadline every week, I understand you are busy, but still you need to organize your time to be able to do your timesheet.
Focker: I see. Well I have 5 tasks to perform before I can even think about the timesheet. Which one do you want me to drop?
Me:  Drop the attitude
Focker {grinning}: don’t be rude.

Suddenly, I take the baseball bat hidden under my desk, I jump across desks to reach him and hit him hard on the forehead.
He fells unconscious, so I pull the fat bastard from his chair, drag him to the toilet. On the way I catch a butcher knife which had appeared by magie (remember, it’s a dream). I close the door so that no one sees us, however no one is around. I start cutting his body into pieces, and stack them in the toilet, flushing each part.
But the bastard is bigger than expected, and the task takes ages. The head cannot be flushed so I put it in my computer bag. Also, I keep flushing, but the body parts are crawling back up the pipe.
I hear noise, it’s Xanax at the door, she breaks in and realises what I have done. She takes a hand towel and tries to smother me to rescue her protégé, but I am strong with rage and I escape!  
Then, I am not sure how, she brings back all of Focker’s body parts and starts casting a spell to make him come back to life.....

Suddenly I hear : London Heart 106.2....it is 7am...my radio alarm is on – time to go to work.

It was a dream.

Focker is alive.

I am the zombie.

And I should stop watching TV series.

Happy Wednesday ladies and gentlemen!